I’ve been to whole film festivals with less cinema than Steve McQueen packs into just two hours.

Although Bell herself is fascinating, Letters From Baghdad is less so.

Klayman, an increasingly skilled observer as a documentarian, occasionally succumbs to her own curiosity, or maybe incredulity, to ask him a question about these comments, or positions, but mostly, her quiet, unobtrusive gaze exposes his flaws without requiring interjection.

This new DC entry has a lovely lightness, both in the visuals and in its tone.

At an hour and 27 minutes, the film has the feel of an exquisite miniature, succinct and evocative.

If the three main draws are too confirmed in respective talents to deliver a subpar performance or a slipshod composition, their shared billing can never quite deliver this film from listlessness.

By showing the tangled relationship between a mother and her dysphoric child, L’Immensità writes a love letter to the lonely.

The film confidently switches gears into a moving character study of how life passes by while you’re busy looking like you don’t care. More interesting than the growing fissures in their friendship are the increasingly ruinous consequences of thoughtlessness as a way of life.

Lady Boss offers the story of a woman with a lot going against her who struck a blow against the sexual double standard and struck a blow for women seeking pleasure for its own sake. Her fight to achieve that goal often makes for a compelling story in its own right.

The devastation caused by those Russian soldiers is on full display in “Freedom on Fire,” which can be hard to watch. But the film is less a catalogue of horrors than a tribute to the people who look for strength despite those horrors; it continually finds moments of grace, humanity and even beauty that seem almost unfathomable in these circumstances.

Many of the mile-per-minute quips and hilariously biting remarks in Theater Camp will surely enter the collective consciousness once the general public has access to them.

The film makes a good case for [Cohn's] legacy being entirely negative, leading to today’s cutthroat, divisive and lie-packed politics. But it also, crucially, makes a case for Cohn being a fascinating subject, a bundle of contradictions in a slick and soulless package.

With its passionate contributors and lofty ideas, Memory: The Origins of Alien demonstrates that, if nothing else, the study of a film can be as exciting as the film itself.

The Walk is that rare movie that might please practically everyone, from viewers just looking for a thrill to those who might enjoy a story that sounds like a tall tale but winds up being discreetly poignant.

Veni Vidi Vici is like a piercing scream into the void, daring you to truly process what it’s telling you for fear you might fall victim to its apathy next.

Its intensity burns like the sun which makes Neil’s skin blister, peeling off a layer we hope might reveal more. Franco is scratching away at the surface, too, making the sort of movie you come away from with questions, wondering if you’d blinked and missed something.

The whole thing is freaky and funny as hell.

Regardless of your political leanings or affiliations, Fauci is an education on what civil service looks like. And Dr. Anthony Fauci leads the pack.

A superficial illustration of the artist’s allure, interspersed with endless, increasingly comical shots of people watching him perform and smiling beatifically.

Lovely visuals are key for the success of any animated film, arguably more so even than for live-action movies. But a compelling story is also essential, and that’s where “Long Way North” trips up.

Ultimately, Ordinary Love is a celebration not just of this functional, delightfully average relationship, but also of life itself, risking and wrestling with loss not in spite of the fact it’s shared with others, but precisely because of that fact.

Established “My Hero Academia” fans will probably enjoy Class 1-A’s typically endearing group dynamic, even if none of the jokes in the movie are that great. And their big fight with Nine is genuinely well-staged and climactic, thanks to some impressive computer graphics and director Kenji Nagasaki’s thoughtful staging and choreography.

Some films merely offer you a clockwork plot. Others, like Jeff Nichols’ smokin’ cool The Bikeriders, whisk you away with a roar of mood and atmosphere.

Resurrection pushes about as far as it can possibly go, and the incredibly game cast supplies much of the pressure.

Without a strong guiding hand we’re left with a finely acted, but only adequate biopic, which brushes against greatness and then paints over it.

It’s got grit and power, not to mention great fake-band songs by Alicia Bognanno and Anika Pyle. And as a movie about learning to balance youthful creativity and adult responsibilities, it’s leagues better than what Disney did to Perry’s “Christopher Robin” script. Put this one on your playlist.

Basir’s script is ambitious and thoughtful, though flawed. The regrettable characterizations of women aside, some of the dots don’t quite connect.

There’s a tipping point at which comedy goes from black to bilious, and that’s a balancing act that The Nice Guys doesn’t always nail. The laughs from this frequently entertaining action comedy get stuck in the throat, keeping this altogether good movie from being a great one.