Thoroughbreds often feels like a very, very expensive B-movie, but it’s all reasonably watchable, thanks to the elegant cinematography and Cooke’s amusing way of playing teenage amorality.

Its message is of a young woman’s empowerment, and of how love can save a family — and if the special effects sometimes overwhelm that message (such as a glorious field of flowers that takes flight in a colorful frenzy), it rings through loud and clear by the end.

Much as I’d like to love a movie that encompasses ballet, spectacular hotel rooms, a Mary-Louise Parker drunk scene, and Rampling standing grimly in the snow like an unbreakable icicle, the movie’s focus on sexual violence against Lawrence’s character ultimately feels repellent.

Filmmaker Ivan Sen is a quadruple threat as writer, director, composer and cinematographer of this wily Australian thriller.

The Lodgers is never particularly scary, or even logical, but it’s always gorgeous to look at; you can see where it’s going, but you might not mind watching it go there.

The visuals are gorgeous. The mood is unsettling from start to finish. Annihilation is a strong sophomore effort from a very talented filmmaker.

The movie relies rather too heavily on McAdams’ charm, sort of like a limp cheeseburger that’s saved by some really good bacon. But hey, sometimes a fast-food cheeseburger satisfies, more or less.

Most of the movies from the British stop-motion wizards at Aardman Animations are pure delight, full of endlessly replayable moments and the kind of enchanting silliness that seems to transport you, however briefly, to a better world. Early Man, their latest effort, is merely good, which is to say that it’s well-crafted and enjoyable.

The film, directed by Paul McGuigan, is basically a weepie, and it doesn’t do quite enough to show contemporary audiences why Grahame was special. But its performances make it a pleasure to watch.

Coogler is a young filmmaker — this is just his third feature, following “Fruitvale Station” and “Creed” (two fine and very different films) — but he marshals this world with confidence and flair. The action sequences are insanely fun.

The script isn’t great, but the plot turns and visuals can be striking, and Jess Weixler has fun as the bad-girl sister Ben finds.

Filmed with great respect and palpable love for its subject, Big Sonia is one of those documentaries that seems to bring its own light — just like the woman at its center.

Johnson and Dornan’s performances are wooden and their chemistry nonexistent (particularly in the movie’s more-of-the-same sex scenes), but think of it all as ultra-deadpan entertainment and it kind of works.

Cooke presents a case that the war on drugs in America is not only a no-win scenario, it is no longer (if it ever was) designed to be won as much as fulfill disturbing, narrow agendas in the public and private sectors.

Filmed in harsh grays and cruel light, interspersed with warm home movies of the family in a happier time, it’s a terribly sad and often mesmerizing story.

The film has a certain charm, and fans of folk music should be more than happy.

As long as the third and, one hopes, final installment is, it feels even longer. There’s more of it, much more, yet paradoxically, much less.

Its evocation of a specific place, California’s Coachella Valley, is indelible.

It’s a remarkable true tale of great heroism. It’s also an account of a clash of cultures.

Mary and the Witch’s Flower isn’t quite a masterpiece.... But it’s a joy to look at: a visual adventure, and a continuation of a remarkable legacy

In the end, The Final Year can offer only the perspective of time and history as a consolation.

Forever My Girl doesn’t stray from the formula or do anything revolutionary. But for an audience seeking fluffy, escapist, country music-tinged romance, it’ll hit a sweet spot.

The film is both a gripping and timely celebration of the free press, and, in the remarkable hands of Streep, an exploration of what it meant then (and, perhaps, now) to be a woman thrust into power in an all-male world.

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Phantom Thread casts a remarkable spell; it wraps around you, like a delicately scented cashmere shawl woven from music and color and astonishing faces.

[Neeson's] impressive physicality, (a tower among men), his rumbly basso-profundo voice and his impressive demeanor give him a natural gravity that allows him to rise above the most absurd material. And he does exactly that in The Commuter.

n the hands of director Adam Robitel, The Last Key hits all the haunted house markers. Lights flicker, flashlights die at inopportune moments, floors creak, and shadowy figures scuttle across the background. But mood is all the film has going for it.

Helms and Wilson are sometimes a stretch as brothers, especially in the more emotional scenes. But Close is majestic as the mother, a supporting role that feels bigger than it is.

Molly’s Game could have been a terrific movie if Sorkin could have edited out 20-30 minutes; as it is, it’s a good movie overstuffed.