Ben Kenigsberg

While decently absorbing, Unidentified eventually goes way more Hollywood than either of those films, with a plot that defies logic (raising issues of both structure and perspective) and undermines the movie’s message — unless the pulpy swerve is itself intended as a kind of statement.

There is much to be said for [Sehiri's] unsensationalistic approach, and for its specificity of detail, even if splitting the narrative three ways means that each of these stories feels shortchanged.

One need look no further than “Marty Supreme” to see how Mexico 86 might have complicated the audience’s sympathies, but this straightforward crowd-pleaser doesn’t wish to see beyond Martín’s charm.

While there is value in any documentary evidence of this time and place, Aljafari’s allusive approach seems ill-matched with the urgency of his subject matter.

While not everything that Bock does is equally fascinating — a director’s personal connection to a subject can be both an advantage and a hindrance — a fair amount of it is endearing, even inspiring.

While being cynical about a wise-octopus movie is probably unfair, being bored by it isn’t great, either.

Looking for rational behavior, especially in a crucial flashback, is pointless. To the extent that Two Pianos coheres, it is in a way that might be described as musical.

Li, carrying a camera she has inherited, appears to search for inspiration in her surroundings, too. Whatever elusive quality she is seeking, Miyake has found something like it. His film gently balances tidiness and looseness, connection and alienation and artifice and the natural world.

Saleh’s tangled plotting has more verve than his pacing or visual sense. But the movie’s portrait of collaboration can’t help but induce a shudder.

The re-enactment approach may not be as novel as it once was, but it’s still a heady, creative way to excavate layers of buried history in a location that has more than its share.