Sheri Linden

Embracing certain conventions of the rom-com genre, directors (and real-life partners) Bermingham and Rhymer (it’s her first time at the helm; his directing credits include Plus One) have made a movie that often charms, sometimes surprises, and can also feel too neat in its messiness.

Whatever your awareness level regarding the legendary bipeds, Marq Evans’ new documentary is a fascinating exploration of a very specific piece of Americana.

The movie infuses a time-tested genre with the unpredictable energy of real people interacting — and, crucially, the offhand wiseass humor of siblings who know and love each other deeply, brought to messy, magnificent life in two spectacular performances.

It’s the kind of movie you either resist or surrender to. I found the latter approach rewarding: The characters and their relationships grow more absorbing as the story proceeds, and late-arriving twists that might have been mawkish in other hands prove haunting and affecting.

[Eimbcke's] fourth feature unfolds with the warm glow of a memory piece but none of the gooey sentimentality.

Ben’Imana contains whole worlds in one very specific here-and-now.

There’s nothing simple or reductive about the emotional throughlines the documentary traces. It embraces the complexities of a man who turned artifice into a kind of superpower, whether he was dreaming up scenarios for fashion spreads or confronting an America as far removed from haute couture Manhattan as you could get.

More powerful than an argument or a treatise, The Last Interview is an immersive experience. It will be a reminder for some and an eye-opener for others of why John Lennon mattered to people, and why his murder was so shattering.

If at times the dramatic balance feels off, or the passion exasperating in particularly Gallic ways (l’amour!), Desplechin and his superb cast convincingly bring the angsty emotions to a place of unexpected brightness and clarity.

There’s a lyrics-and-melody power to the interplay of sharp observations and visuals that dive deep into archival material — a fitting dynamic for a film about someone with a preternatural gift for infectious tunes. And there’s a playful, irreverent bounce to the film that’s in sync with the Liverpudlian music hall tradition that McCartney, more than any of the Beatles, has held close.