From Lee and Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko and John Romita and many more came the great flowering of ‘60s superheroes, the ones who seemed like human beings in ways that Superman or Batman didn’t

It documents with an incisive drabness the group sessions, garbled sermons and general shoddiness of Love in Action, the program that 19-year-old Jared (Lucas Hedges) gets enrolled in by his parents, played by Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe

It’s one of those biopics where everything significant that happened to a famous person happens all at once, in the couple of seconds of any given year that we see dramatized

… This new Sabrina dives headlong into the dark, weird truths that smart kids — and alarmed evangelicals — always assumed ruled the life of America’s favorite teenage witch, her sorcerous aunts and her black-cat familiar

Finally onscreen after years of legal disputes, Mathew Cullen’s calamitous film adaptation plays like my friend’s hazy recollection of the book, an incomprehensible jumble of misogynistic claptrap

The couple has begun to discover that raw truth that, around 1960, American novelists and filmmakers were only starting to face in their art: that the post-war dream of a little house and a little family just might not be enough to ensure happiness

Netflix has recently offered two modest stabs at this stabbing-est of genres, a pair of animated series, one of which bristles with promise

The teacher in question, played by an excellent Maggie Gyllenhaal, takes an insistent interest in the life and (apparent) art of 5-year-old student Jimmy (Parker Sevak), who occasionally goes into a shuffling trance and mumble-recites evocative verses of his own invention

That impulse — to continually stoke our fury with Twitter takes, cable news shouters and breaking news updates — gets lanced throughout The Oath, which writer-director-star Barinholtz has set in a now just as fevered as ours

Its leads, feminist writer Rachel (Kathryn Hahn) and Richard (Paul Giamatti), a one-time wunderkind of no-budget theatrical productions, find themselves desperate to conceive a child even as the doctors they pay (with borrowed money) thousands to speak frankly of the odds

Bad Times is a much better time in its mysterious middle, which tingles with darkly comic possibility, than in its final 40 minutes, when Goddard’s cards are on the table

Young Anna (Galatea Bellugi), intense and charismatic in the manner of another teenaged French seer, reports that Mary has imparted to her a message calling for the building of a church and caring for the world’s poor

The Hate U Give takes time to focus on the nuances of Starr’s life, on the ways Williamson has split her consciousness, on the effort of code-switching, on the layers of self that Starr must sort through in everyday interactions

Each beat of this plays out with exquisite delicacy, as does the exchange where the crook lays out, with exacting detail, how he’d rob this diner if it were a bank — and then takes it all back, letting her think he was joking

The filmmakers capture Honnold’s 2016 and 2017 attempts to complete the first “free solo” climb of these granite cliffs, and the suspense is thrilling, agonizing, perhaps indecent

Footage of Studio life — the lavish lights, the Broadway-style props and performance numbers, the heaving mass of beautiful people — plays here mostly in chaotic montage, with few shots related to the one coming next

The cameras aren’t even there when the kids officially present their projects, but the filmmakers still wring the big day for all the drama they can, putting off as long as possible the revelation of whether any of their subjects win

As her marriage opens up, and Colette begins to take lovers of her own, Knightley summons up a moving sense of both relief and recklessness

… After a somewhat compelling hour suggesting all the reasons that Borden might be willing to kill, Macneill and screenwriter Bryce Kass tantalize with the possibility of their subject’s innocence

Radner narrates, in a way, through her own audio diaries, plus some snippets of interviews and judicious excerpts from the audiobook of her perfectly titled — and just-barely posthumous — memoir, It’s Always Something

It is to Hawke’s credit that he has invested what clout he has gathered in his industry into this study of an artist who never gathered much clout at all — and that the resulting film has the warm, weary rhythms of Foley’s own songs