Mike Scott

It’s a lot of things, but Master Gardener is first and foremost a Paul Schrader film, and a Paul Schrader film can usually be counted on to deliver one thing above all else: a moody story about a tough man, adrift, who is thrust into a tough situation.

As character studies go, Monica is an especially timely one, determined to contribute to the current conversation about acceptance and understanding. At the same time, beneath it all lies a more universal concept.

For a movie about the value of memories, it won’t go down as particularly memorable. Ten or 15 years ago, its visual effects might have been something approaching stunning. Today, they — like the dialogue, the pacing and pretty much every other element of the film — are only just good enough to allow audiences to suspend their disbelief.

In short, this version of Barrie’s classic tale — which is all about the joy of childhood and the pitfalls of adulthood — feels awfully grown up at times.

Tempting though it might be, it’s not fair to say Ritchie’s film gets lost in translation. But by the same token, when it’s all over, it doesn’t quite feel as if it has entirely lived up to its covenant with audiences.

Blending old-school practical effects with computer-enhanced explosions of blood and viscera, Renfield tips its cap to the past without being overly reverential to it. Add in frequent outbursts of meticulously choreographed action sequences, and we end up with a film that is more fun than frightening.

A big-budget crowd-pleaser that avoids the pitfall of taking itself too seriously, it is well-cast, well-crafted and just plain fun, an old-school spectacle that makes a compelling case for sitting in the dark with a hundred or more strangers and just enjoying the show.

An oddly inert and even old-fashioned yarn, one that sleepwalks for long stretches, defusing much of the drama of what is an undeniably fascinating true-crime story.

Jordan manages to squeeze a decent amount of drama from the obligatory third-act showdown, but even then, his reach exceeds his grasp, with a display of misplaced arthouse ambition.

The result is an exhausting and ungainly mish-mash of a movie that pretends to have something to say but doesn’t really. Similarly, it doesn’t know what it wants to be or — consequently — who its audience is.

As outrageous and fun as Babylon can be, it feels even more self-indulgent than happy hour on Mardi Gras. Granted, excess is the point of it all. Even the film’s running time, at a bladder-busting 3 hours 9 minutes, tests limits. Making matters worse is that for most of the film’s first half, it’s all setting and no story. And, yet, I think I love it.

It’s beautiful, but it begins to fade, and fast — until there’s little, if anything worth remembering.

To be fair, del Toro’s “Pinocchio” does, indeed, get a lot of things right. It’s got a nice sense of humor, for example. It is ambitious. It has heart. Where it falters, however, is in its near-total absence of charm.

This is featherweight, family-friendly fare, through and through. But that doesn’t detract from its ability to distract, thanks largely to a fun, fast-moving script, rich production values and director Harry Bradbeer’s willingness to stand back and let star Millie Bobby Brown shine.

A small, wonderfully minimalist film that nonetheless packs an emotional wallop while delivering a beautifully heartbreaking portrait of the power of human connection.

Every narrative twist is telegraphed, every dramatic choice is expected, every character is one-dimensional, and every scene of heightened emotion is built around tin-ear dialogue.

The real reason Zemeckis’ Pinocchio works so well is because it doesn’t forget the emotion and humor.

It’s Buckles’ first film, and it’s an exceptional debut. Blending archival footage, singular animation and a wealth of interviews, he delivers a vital document that is at once intimate, honest, engaging and indelible.

A satisfying and briskly paced blend of creative carnage, strong visual effects and well-conceived action sequences.

Gray Man is colorful, lively and admirably self-aware of its place in today’s cinemaverse.

Pure cinematic fluff, the kind of film that tends to evaporate within a few hours of seeing it. That being said, Manville is so charming, and the rest of Fabian’s film is so well meaning, and so well realized, that by the time it hits its inevitable third-act moment, it’s hard not to be swept up by the joy of it all.

For all of the faults one can find with Kiet’s film, she’s also exactly the kind of hero many American women probably need right now.

Mr. Malcolm’s List, like “Bridgerton,” is a highly enjoyable, low-calorie bit of cinematic frippery.

From a filmmaking standpoint, capturing so successfully the spirit of such a multi-faceted celebration sounds like a logistical impossibility. But here it is.

Charming as it all is, don’t expect A New Era to win many awards or break box office records. But it’ll definitely hit a sweet spot for those eager to visit with these old, familiar characters once more.

Heartwarming, beautifully shot and more English than a basket of fish-and-chips with a side of mushy peas, it’s an easy-to-watch, easy-to-love crowd-pleaser.

As his character’s cognitive abilities decline, Neeson’s repeated on-a-dime transition from killing machine to stuttering, doddering pawpaw — and then back again — feels eye-rollingly, almost offensively contrived.

From “Dazed and Confused” to “Boyhood” to “Everybody Wants Some!!,” [Linklater's] become one of Hollywood’s chief purveyors of nostalgia, mining it for both humor and poignance. What’s more, he does it consistently well. With "Apollo 10½," he’s done it again.