His name was Buster Keaton, and for most of the 1920s he was, if not the King of Silent Comedy, the Grand Duke, creating a string of classic comedies in which he performed physical stunts that the best CGI couldn’t re-create today. 

With too much to say and too many people saying it, and no central narrator driving the story arc, The Spy Behind Home Plate sometimes plods and lacks focus. Still, the guy (Moe Berg) was amazing.

There’s an aerial quality to Lynn Shelton’s quirky, lively comedy, as her characters seem to fly through the air with the greatest of ease, working without a net.

When Luciano Pavarotti died of pancreatic cancer in 2007, many opera lovers had mixed feelings. The tenor was only 71 and it hadn’t been so long since he was the reigning star of his generation, still giving magnificent performances of his core repertoire into the 1990s.

The queen of Late Night is Thompson, whose character’s impeccable timing and dry-as-gin wit makes you wonder why she hasn’t been dominating the late-night TV talk show scene for the last quarter century. 

This film is director Dónal Foreman’s redemptive exploration of the similarities and differences between him and his father, told in three separate sections through voice-over narration, still photographs, home movies, and documentary footage of The Troubles, the bitter dispute between the nationalist Catholic minority and the Protestant government.

Writer-director Frédéric Tcheng (Dior and I) has, by and large, done a worthy job of tracing the rise and fall of the man described as America’s first great international fashion superstar.

Jill Magid’s extraordinary art project, the genesis and execution of which unfold in this strange, almost dreamlike documentary, is like a story devised by Edgar Allen Poe, or perhaps Edward Gorey.

The Secret Life of Pets 2, an animated film about canines (and other domesticated critters), doesn’t quite live up to the standard set by real-world pooches.

A well-intentioned documentary about a couple who chuck it all to start anew with the purpose of minimizing their carbon footprint neglects the fact that most of us aren’t as privileged as the Chesters.

Despite featuring two of cinema’s biggest stars (literally), Warner Bros.’ budding MonsterVerse — a franchise built around the characters of Godzilla and King Kong — hasn’t gotten a lot of fanfare. This, despite the fact that 2014’s Godzilla, a reboot of the classic monster story, earned nearly $530 million at the box office and was generally well received, save for some quibbles about the human story.

The White Crow, a new biopic, should make for a compelling story about the sacrifices we make for freedom and for art. Sadly, it never quite seems to gel.

Directors Robert Bahar and Almudena Carracedo have dug up that past in this powerful, often shocking documentary that has been years in the making, as they follow a group of activists bent on seeing justice done.

Emily Dickinson — reclusive spinster, or madcap, passionate lover? Publication-shy, or publication-deprived, rebuffed by patronizing male chauvinist editors? In Madeleine Olnek’s playful revisionist look at Dickinson, the chips are all in on the latter options.

When you’ve got a near-monochromatic color palette, as in director Yimou Zhang’s phenomenal war epic Shadow, it makes it all the more dramatic when the bright red blood starts to flow. 

A documentary is only as good as its subject, and in Dr. Ruth Westheimer, director Ryan White (The Keepers) has a live one: a 4-foot, 7-inch bundle of irrepressible joy wrapped around a core of impenetrable sadness.

Hungarian director László Nemes follows up his Oscar-winning Holocaust drama, Son of Saul (2015), with this enigmatic character study set in Budapest on the eve of World War I.

In Her Smell, the putrefaction of ’90s grunge rocker Becky Something (Elisabeth Moss) rubs off on just about everyone. As the atomic-blonde lead singer of the all-female band Something She, she’s an echo of Hole’s Courtney Love at the height of her train-wreck allure, complete with blustery bravado, smeary eyeliner, ripped fishnets, and druggy dysfunction. 

The banality of dialogue and incomprehensibility of plot in Tokyo Drifter can wear a little thin, but director Seijun Suzuki keeps things so visually lively that it’s hard to hold the movie’s deficiencies against it. 

A long-awaited, not-to-be-missed documentary based on a 1972 recording of Aretha Franklin comes to local theaters this weekend. It’s the Queen of Soul, singing her soul out with amazing grace and unearthly talent.