A colossal waste of time and the moviegoer’s dollars. That’s the bottom line of Daddy’s Home 2.

A cheerily uneven but enjoyable adaptation of Agatha Christie’s blockbuster novel.

Lady Bird is a joy, from its start...to its finish, when that ever-so-slightly older young woman takes a breath and looks out — hopefully, nervously, excitedly — into a limitless future.

A deeply uninspired sequel to last year’s surprise (and surprisingly sweet) hit “Bad Moms,” this movie was made in a hurry and it shows.

Todd Haynes’ Wonderstruck is one of those films that I wanted to like far more than I actually did.

Blade of the Immortal is a pretty good title for a samurai movie. I’ve got a better one: “10,000 Corpses.”

The fun here is in the little moments the actors find, and in the way that Waititi, within the massive machine that is a studio superhero movie, brings out a looseness and playfulness in the performances.

It’s the kind of movie that you watch with two simultaneous emotions: fascination, and the desire to leave immediately. I’m glad, mostly, that I didn’t give in to the second, but I’m still pondering exactly how Lanthimos pulled off the first.

Forster gets decent performances from Lively and Clarke, but the overall impression “All I See” leaves is of a picture that fails to live up to its filmmaker’s ambitions.

The Coen brothers’ section, derived from a script they sent to Clooney in the late 1990s, is much more impactful, with Damon giving a performance that renders his character downright chilling and Jupe doing heart-rending work as a child emotionally buffeted by the grievously flawed behavior of the adults who are supposed to love and protect him.

Thank You for Your Service is a harrowing, honest and beautifully acted film about lives blown to bits and then put back together; not entirely, not immediately, but piece by tiny piece.

The beauty of The Florida Project is how Baker uses a cast of mostly inexperienced actors to tell a story that feels completely, utterly real: You feel as if you’ve slipped inside of Moonee’s enchanted world, while at the same time seeing the harsh reality of Halley’s.

Despite the twee being occasionally laid on too thick, Goodbye Christopher Robin is ultimately a pleasant enough wallow in British childhood.

Sometimes, all the pieces are there, but it just isn’t worth putting the puzzle together. Such is the case with Tomas Alfredson’s The Snowman.

Neeson’s Felt is deeply conflicted about being a turncoat. He’s also deeply flawed, a man who authorized illegal activities to track down members of the terrorist Weather Underground.

It was a pleasure to become happily lost in this unique film’s world of color and line, and to see two filmmakers’ mad dream come true.

Under the direction of Joseph Kosinski (“Oblivion”), a large cast headed by Josh Brolin and Miles Teller bring great vitality and sensitivity to their performances.

Angela Robinson’s fascinating and surprisingly sweet-natured film is a different sort of superhero origin story, and an appropriate bookend to this summer’s “Wonder Woman.”

Marshall is a handsome, old-fashioned film about a real-life hero, with a message of equality and justice that always bears repeating.

Hilarious, raucous and smarter than it’s likely to get credit for, Happy Death Day is an absolute blast for both horror junkies and those just looking for a fun jolt on Friday the 13th.

[Martin Campbell's] a master at rejuvenating tired warhorses, and he pulls it off again with this one.

In the hands of lesser actors I shudder to think of what a slog The Mountain Between Us might be, with its endless catastrophes and near-deaths and melodramatic declarations. But Winslet — who gets her own superhero moment near the end — and Elba are so likable and charismatic together, they just about sell it.

Perhaps in an effort to tell a PG story about an all-ages storyteller, Te Ata lacks vitality, pulling its punches and sometimes resorting to a cheesy shorthand. (A scene featuring Greene’s reservation leader and a racist senator is especially cheap.) Despite that, Te Ata lingers in the memory as a tale of an artist’s promise — and fulfillment.

It’s a lovely, inspiring picture of a crucial institution; one which, as an employee describes, serves as “a warm, welcoming place that’s committed to education and committed to nurturing everyone’s passions and curiosities.”

It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who already love it, it’ll be just right.

In terms of the imaginative ways it expands on the themes of the first movie, it is the rare sequel that is at least the equal of its iconic original.

At heart, “Kingsman” is a comedy, though granted, one with abundant dismemberments and literally mind-blowing violence. And I mean “literally” in the very strictest sense of the term.

There’s plenty here to enjoy.

An enjoyably lighthearted crowd-pleaser with a serious message at its core.

Cruise and company wanted to make American Made a fun and often funny ride, but there’s something oddly joyless about the whole enterprise. Its overweening cynicism leaves a curdled aftertaste.

Thanks to Dench, Victoria & Abdul is constantly engaging and at times moving.

Stronger, ultimately, leaves its audience feeling a little stronger; we fall with Jeff, and we stand with him.

Sadly, Friend Request is not even the first movie to travel that harrowing Dead Girl Who Still Maintains an Active Facebook Presence road.

There is fun to be had here. Adults can appreciate the verbal byplay. For the kids, there’s frenzied noise, and those toys.

Sequelitis has Vaughn in its grip. The follow-up to his 2014 hyperviolent, boundlessly inventive spy-movie sendup gives the impression it’s trying a little too hard to surpass its predecessor.

mother!, for this viewer, felt long and punishing; artful yet self-sabotaging, eventually crumbling. I never looked away — but I never want to see it again.

Jolie draws restrained, naturalistic performances from her all-Cambodian cast, particularly young Sareum Srey Moch. There’s a stillness and a stoicism in her portrayal that makes her an unforgettable figure in this unforgettable movie.

Danny Strong’s film, which stars Nicholas Hoult as Salinger...isn’t terrible; it’s just one of those period films that never catches a spark — you find yourself admiring the elegantly lit rooms and the meticulous 1940s costumes, rather than becoming immersed in the drama.

Director Michael Cuesta and a platoon of credited screenwriters have dutifully checked all the usual spy-thriller boxes but bring nothing new to the party.

It’s all instantly forgettable. Except for the tulips — which, for the record, look stellar.

Nobody’s behavior here resembles that of an actual person, and the directing is often awkward.

Childhood: courtesy of Mr. King. Filtered through the pedestrian sensibilities of director Andy Muschietti, who seemingly never met a horror-movie cliché he couldn’t incorporate into his adaptation of King’s thousand-page-plus mega-opus.

What Warner undergoes in Crown Heights is difficult to watch. Yet in the end, remarkably. there is triumph. And, finally, justice.

The “Trip” movies, like the anchovies Coogan and Brydon happily devour, aren’t to everyone’s taste.... But oh, those impressions.

Bell can sculpt a funny moment to polished realization, but deprive it of oxygen at the same time. It’s not until late in the film’s third act that a different feeling emerges, a looser hand that provides room for characters to be more warm and human than pieces in a constricted design.

Pattinson keeps you interested, even when the movie’s tone and pace wobbles.

There are some fleeting moments of inspiration — the music by Rob Simonsen is a master class in sudsy melodrama, and Nixon turns in a great performance — but The Only Living Boy in New York is rotten to its Big Apple core.

Director Matt Spicer...is dealing with some fairly obvious themes; i.e. everything on social media isn’t what it seems; living your life online isn’t necessarily a good idea. But he finds much wit in the characters, and in the wicked fun the actors are having.

Reynolds is playing what amounts to the straight man to Jackson’s bad boy, and the back-and-forth between the two, with his character stewing and steaming in exasperation at the killer’s taunts, gives The Hitman’s Bodyguard its special fizz.

Soderbergh keeps the action light and playful, and lets the cast members find their own silliness within it.

Whose Streets? marks the filmmaking debut of Folayan and Davis, and it’s charged by its personal touch.

An irresistible NASA instant classic about the conquest of space — via the Voyager missions.

Freidel illuminates the inner struggle Elser goes through as, buttressed by his conscience and his Catholic faith, he finds within himself a strength of character and brave defiance that defines him as a hero in the truest sense of the word.

You have undoubtedly seen many films that cover, generally, about the same territory as Taylor Sheridan’s Wind River.... But you probably haven’t seen one quite like “Wind River,” a movie less interested in examining the crime than in uncovering the icicle of grief at its core.

Filmmaker Destin Daniel Cretton (“Short Term 12”) can’t quite find that magical balance that Walls hits, and tilts the story too far toward sentiment.

The film is inspiring and funny and lovely.

In the vast canon of King-derived movies, “Tower” belongs in the upper ranks.

Kidnap has a tossed-together sameness to it, like a salad made up only of tired lettuce.

Bigelow has a way of making scripted drama feel like an utterly gripping newsreel. That’s not necessarily all to the good — I found myself wishing for more character development — but you can’t deny the power of the filmmaking.

An Inconvenient Sequel is both a rebuttal and a rebuke to the voices who vociferously disparage him and his cause.

Pugh, a young newcomer with just a tiny handful of film credits, gives a performance of rare ferocity.

While it’s still an enjoyable novelty to spend time during an action movie wondering where I could buy the hero’s boots, it’s no substitute for a good story.

Restless Creature isn’t a mere celebration of a great artist; it’s a moving portrait of what happens when that artist confronts the possibility of not being able to make that art any more.

What’s fun here is both the easy charm of the four women (two of whom have a long screen history together; watch for Smith and Latifah in a shout-out to 1996’s “Set It Off”), and the range of comedy styles they display.

Those fascinated by the art of animation will find much to ponder here — the hand-drawn brush strokes, the lush colors, the way just a few quickly sketched lines suddenly take vivid life.

Compared with Weerasethakul’s acclaimed features, it feels cobbled together and improvised, which for the most part it was.

Dunkirk succeeds spectacularly both emotionally and visually.

The protests that lead to the overthrow of a president carry hard-to-avoid echoes of recent demonstrations in the U.S.

Score, directed by Matt Schrader, breaks no new ground in the art of documentary — it’s mostly talking heads — but it’s an enjoyable walk through the art and history of the film score, with dozens of contemporary composers lending their voices.

The whole purpose of this teen horror movie is to show creatively gruesome deaths. If you prefer your horror flicks with a dash of wit or suspense, look elsewhere.

There is absolutely nothing new under the many suns in Besson’s universe. This is a voyage not worth taking.

Whichever side you come down on, Johns’ and Squires’ low-key performances are impressive (Johns won Best Actor at this year’s Seattle International Film Festival), and the technological/red-tape hurdles their characters face feel stingingly accurate.

The movie works for the reason that all the best rom-coms do: you fall in love, a little bit, with Kumail and Emily, and want them to stay together. Love, this movie reminds us, is often inconvenient; but it does ultimately conquer all.

What shines through is the beauty of Guy Godfree’s cinematography — the light has a lovely, soft stillness to it, like a painting — and a remarkable performance by Hawkins, whose impossibly wide smile seems to bring the sun.

Serkis again proves that in the highly specialized realm of performance-capture acting, he has no peer.

Inside Out movingly but casually plays with our emotions, like a baby walking her fingers across a parent’s face; it leaves you changed, entertained, nostalgic, dazzled.

The special-effects sequences are up to the usual high standards of Marvel excellence, but by far the best elements of “Homecoming” are the writing, which brims with humor, and the performances.

For a brilliant approximation of the man himself, watch Downey in this film. This is a performance created out of equal parts talent, hard work and love. It's uncanny. [08 Jan 1993, p.3]

Patriot Games doesn't set any new standards for its genre, but it delivers the goods, announcing a sequel with a hokey but wonderfully domestic cliffhanger. [5 June 1992, p.24]

It’s a compelling argument, in a film that may well change a few minds — or at least inspire some heartfelt post-screening arguing.

The only trouble with all these parodies is that Hot Shots begins to seem chaotic rather than clever. Too many of the send-ups turn out to be unnecessary detours. [31 July 1991, p.E5]

Bring patience — and a fondness for Malick-ish stillness — and perhaps find reward.

Timely, pressing, important.

Candles illuminate faces in the dark; a curving staircase looms like a shadow. And the actors pitch their roles perfectly: Kidman’s breathy calm; Farrell’s charm, just hinting at something dark within it; Fanning’s way of prettily arranging herself, showing off Alice’s newfound power; Dunst’s quiet melancholy.

Even with deep-seated problems that they may or may not be able to overcome, this is a couple worth rooting for. And — heartfelt, sarcastic and funny; tinged with love, loss and healing — Band Aid is, too.

It’s a standard kiddie cartoon: noisy, colorful and forgettable.

An all-star farce about backstage melodramatics at a long-running daytime soap opera, Soapdish has some hysterically funny moments. Unfortunately, its creators don't always sustain the big laughs, or make the most of such supporting players as Whoopi Goldberg and Robert Downey Jr., whose proven comic gifts are mostly hidden this time. [31 May 1991, p.25]

It’s uncannily choreographed, with gestures and movements timed precisely to the soundtrack’s beat.

It plants its gaze on Lee — and on Elliott, who takes The Hero in his hands and makes something quietly moving from it.

Like all of Kore-eda’s films, After the Storm ends with a jolt; not in the filmmaking, but in the way you realize that you were completely lost in the lives of these people and that, as the lights go up, you’ll miss them.

A profoundly brave film.

Ripped works best as a middling series of gags about being far too many tokes over the line.

The variety of inspirations (not to mention the visual quality of the film clips) is astonishing.

When words fail in The Last Knight, the crunching and crashing and KLANKing of the special-effects scenes take up the slack. Punishingly overwrought in every aspect, Last Knight is a KLANK! KLANK! KLUNKER.

The Book of Henry launches itself into cloud cuckooland and never returns to Earth.

The film starts off a bit rocky, as the story elements are established, but gets better and funnier as it builds, leaning into the craziness as the dominoes fall into place.

Hayek plays her role with such gentle conviction, the movie quickly becomes something else: a sort of tragedy of manners.