Clint Worthington

That sense of community solidarity and immigrant resilience weaves through the fabric of Sehiri’s quiet, observational drama, which tells the story of a tight-knit group of Black immigrant women trying to survive and make ends meet amid Tunisia’s unwelcoming immigration environment.

It wants to be the crowd-pleasing, audience-nudging, Easter-Egg-having ode to the toy line that Mattel clearly desires, while also avoiding accusations of taking the whole thing too seriously. In so doing, it’s a film that tries to serve two masters, and doesn’t have the power to really honor either.

Stolen Kingdom still sits comfortably alongside other very capable docs about the kind of vaguely criminal youth countercultures that spun off in the 21st century, intended to stick it to the man: “Secret Mall Apartment” and the upcoming “Santacon.”

It may feel like damning with faint praise, but “LifeHack” is easily one of the more tolerable screenlife thrillers of recent vintage.

Trees, like people, are deeply connected to the world around them. We, like they, pick up on signals, receive and interpret them, and respond in kind. “Silent Friend” offers the gentlest of those signals to us, in the form of its own hypnotic, mesmeric filmmaking. Pick up on those signals, let them rattle around in your head, and you’ll be richly rewarded.

The combo of Eilish’s stagecraft and Cameron’s filmmaking tools makes for a simply electrifying concert experience.

Structural quibbles aside, “Nuestra Tierra” is a powerful work of reclamation and advocacy for native peoples who have long been disenfranchised and dehumanized by systemic forces in colonial Argentina.

It’s a film whose tranquility and humility sometimes work against it, even in those moments where it overcorrects with didacticism.

As is, “Bunnylovr” feels like a stone skipped across the surface of a pond; we could go deeper, but instead we choose to skim the surface. It’s a glossy, moody surface, mind, but surface nonetheless.

The Super Mario Galaxy Movie moves through you so briskly that you’ll get whiplash by the time the film reaches its deeply abrupt ending. But maybe that’s the point—after all, this is not a movie to be scrutinized, but to allow beleaguered elder millennial dads to sit their tots down for a precious two hours (if you count the trailers) and get some much-needed rest. It’s cute, and breezy, and rock-stupid, and will probably make a billion dollars again.