Nyong’o’s prodigious talents are sadly wasted in this noisy, pointless movie, which never approaches the cleverness — or the genuine scariness — of the first two in the franchise.

In a movie that reminds us that parenting comes in many forms, it’s touching to learn that the Cayuga word for “aunt” is “small mother.” We almost didn’t need the definition; it’s visible, in Gladstone and Delroy-Olson’s eyes.

Filled with sweetly funny moments, “Thelma” is a perfect showcase for the delightfully wry Squibb, whose character constantly reminds us that you’re never too old to try something new, whether it’s takeout sushi or low-speed chasing after criminals.

Life, as a character in Babes points out, isn’t always like a Nora Ephron movie, but it’s a pleasure to watch these two stumble toward their own happy ending.

Richard Linklater’s Hit Man is one of those movies that just picks you up immediately and sweeps you away; it’s made with an irresistibly breezy confidence.

Sure, much of it follows ground already trodden in the first film, but it finds that same sweet balance of tears and laughter.

This may not be quite the movie that Ederle deserves, but it’s the one that we’ve got, and it’s definitely a story worth telling.

It’s not a perfect movie, but Zendaya makes it a great pleasure.

Benjamin provides just the right balance of sincerity and snark to hold this dark action-comedy together. When combined with bloody good action choreography, the film mostly knocks any flaws aside.

We fall in love with this couple, just a bit, and want them to be together. And Hathaway and Galitzine make a charmer of a pair.

This isn’t a bright tale of Winehouse’s rise to stardom. It’s a tragic story of a once-in-a-generation talent gone too soon.

Beginning with its enigmatic title and concluding with a haunting, strange ending, “Evil Does Not Exist” is filmmaking more interested in creating a mood than telling a taut story — but what a mood it is.

Take-no-prisoners storytelling, the work of a master storyteller.

While Schoenbrun’s film embraces its many influences, it is a distinct work that lingers in the very soul. It’s not just one of the most original American films of recent memory, but the best of the year.

Ball takes his time presenting Noa’s world in detail. Too much time, frankly. There is no real sense of urgency here. Everything is carefully worked out. The visuals are handsome but unremarkable. Consequently, the picture feels dutiful and oddly bloodless.

The Fall Guy isn’t a perfect movie; it’s longer and a bit more self-aware than it needs to be, and not every joke lands. But it has that rare quality in a big-studio film: a sense of fun.

Most important: The volume of bloodletting is undeniably impressive and frequently explosive, and the filmmakers effectively employ a lot of creepy remixes of the “Swan Lake” theme.

It’s an undeniably fun picture but rather too self-impressed. It’s Ritchie at his limited best.

If Civil War wasn’t so utterly horrifying, it could be a superhero movie, with journalists wearing the capes.

Patel’s passion project Monkey Man is a big swing, and a big swerve for the actor. Luckily, it connects, landing with a satisfyingly bone-crunching intensity. And if the movie is intended as Patel’s calling card, he leaves the whole damn deck on the table.

The CGI is off the leash. The manufactured chaos is unrelenting. Monsters punching monsters. The pyramids are peril. Awesome deconstruction there.

Everything about Rose Glass’ violent revenge thriller Love Lies Bleeding is unexpected; you watch it as if strapped into a roller-coaster car, not sure when the next dip or swerve might be.

The fourth time is truly the charm in this long-running franchise.

A knowledge of the novel is helpful as well.

A magnificent work of minimalism, the film is about these minute moments just as it’s about the most existential parts of life.

I.S.S. may be a bit untethered, unsure of what it wants to be and what it wants to say, but it’s worth the voyage regardless.

The funniest element of what vaguely gestures toward dark comedy is how poorly written this story about writers is.

Do yourself a favor and go see The Crime Is Mine, a delicious bit of French froth from master director François Ozon.