Mike Scott

Granted, Luca might not go down as one of the more profound entries in the Pixar catalog. Don’t expect it to make you well up the same way Up or Toy Story 2 did. Still, at a time in which international travel is mostly for the bold, it’s an undeniably pleasant summertime trip.

Audiences won’t likely find it Pixar-profound, but it’s not direct-to-DVD forgettable, either — or “My-Little-Pony”-cloying. Plus, it’s got horses. And, if you’re younger than 13, that counts for something.

But the way [Stone] elevates things in Cruella, taking what is a mediocre, fairly formulaic script and making it sing — making us eager for the next scene, just to see what she’s going to do — isn’t something a lot of people can do, and it’s thrilling to watch.

Aside from the “you-got-your-zombie-thriller-in-my-heist-movie” element, there’s nothing here that’s strikingly original, but Army of the Dead is still fun in its overblown, unapologetically violent way.

As effective as it is, The Djinn won’t conjure up nearly as many eyeballs as Spiral, but those who watch it won’t be disappointed — although they might never look at I Dream of Jeannie the same way ever again.

Rarely, however, are such stories as emotionally laden as that told in Lucy the Human Chimp, a documentary ostensibly about a science experiment but which quickly evolves into something both heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once.

From the blow-by-blow ticktock of the efforts of Secretary of State James Baker during Bush the elder’s administration to Bill Clinton’s failed Camp David summit, they push The Human Factor into surprisingly suspenseful territory, even if we all know how it ends.

If your definition of a good story is one that keeps you on the hook, wondering where the heck this particular journey will take you, then French Exit certainly qualifies.

The good news is that when the monkey and the lizard start fighting — which, let’s be honest, is really why we’re all here — brother, it is a sight to see. Between the chest-beating, fire-breathing and general mayhem, Godzilla vs. Kong is, if nothing else, a visual feast.

If nothing else, Cherry proves Holland has a lot more to give us when his web-slinging days are over.

If there’s a knock on the first Coming to America, it’s that its two-hour running time often felt a touch padded. But that’s better than the entirely forgettable Coming 2 America, which is pretty much all padding.

Raya isn’t without its formulaic plot points, predictable turns or lazy dialogue. Still, on the whole, it’s a reasonably diverting family-friendly showcase for Disney’s characteristic blend of humor, heart and artistry.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday presents Holiday as a victim and little more. Ignored is the fact that the self-destructive Holiday bears at least some culpability for the slow-motion tragedy that was her life — and for her all-too-early death at 44 years old. Daniels, who seems to have made the classic mistake of falling in love with his subject, apparently doesn’t have time for such nuance.

This is the kind of movie that will take different people on different journeys. The one common thread is that, for most people who take the time to truly consider it, that journey will be a thoughtful and meaningful one.

Palmer is a tiny film, but it’s got a big heart, and that helps make it a pleasant and uplifting diversion at a time when many of us could use one.

It’s a movie with the sort of resonance, thoughtfulness and universality that audiences of all descriptions will enjoy — and, more importantly, connect with.

Mank is repeatedly brought back from the brink by its uniformly top-shelf craftsmanship, including some wonderful bits of dialogue.

There’s more than enough deranged originality there — and Christmas spirit, when all is said and done — that it gets the job done, in a cheap thrills, guilty pleasure kind of way.

As mesmerizing as the acting often is, Wolfe’s film is imbued with a certain staginess. Even if you didn’t know coming in that it was based on a stage play, you’d realize it fairly quickly.

Admirably, though, Gibney resists the temptation to climb on his soapbox to deliver some pointed political message. He gives his audience more credit than that.

This isn’t just a film. It’s a cultural treasure – and, given its unlikely journey – a minor miracle.

Frustratingly, whenever it begins to get going and pulses begin pounding, Harper brings things to a screeching halt by introducing flashback sequences to tell us the backstory of Jones’ invented character.

Uncut Gems boasts a kinetic energy that, by the time the closing credits roll, will make you feel like you went to the gym rather than the movie theater.

It’s an impressive cinematic accomplishment and a dandy bit of storytelling to boot.

It does enough things right, and generates enough powerful moments, to make it an effective social-justice drama.

A freshly drawn slice-of-life drama inspired by Perrier’s own real-life experiences as an online “cam girl,” it deals with decidedly uncomfortable subject matter — the introduction of a 19-year-old young woman into sex work — but it doesn’t approach any of it with judgment or shame.

Burning Cane is all about Youmans and his uncommon vision, which would be impressive coming from a filmmaker of any age. Making it all that much more exciting is the fact that this is just the beginning.

An admirably full portrait of a film that reflects, with thrilling discomfort, the darker recesses of our minds.