But as a movie, as a centralized story where characters grow, evolve and learn things about themselves they potentially did not know, Ball’s second descent into author Dashner’s ravaged world is a good one, and considering my ambivalent reticence to the first The Maze Runner that isn’t a statement I make at all lightly.

Culminating with the 1972 chess championship, focusing particularly on the game six match many aficionados consider the best ever played, [Pawn Sacrifice] is a not-so-subtle reminder about how genius and madness oftentimes go hand-in-hand, and as such is an absorbing drama of psychological deterioration impossible to dismiss.

Brie and Sudeikis shine, and as for laughs they are undeniably plentiful. Sleeping with Other People might be too familiar for its own good, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t entertaining, and as romantic comedies go it’s one of the more enjoyable ones I’ve seen this year.

Bloodsucking Bastards is basically the odd, overlong, fitfully funny love child of Office Space and Fright Night. The story of a corporate office taken over by vampires looking to streamline the workforce and maximize profits while also stockpiling a cubicle full of human-sized foodstuffs, director Brian James O’Connell’s silly little undead B-grade supernatural frolic is happily a great deal of fun.

More than that, though, I just got a kick out of the gruesomely playful tone Shyamalan establishes, things playing like a whimsically knowing twist on the adventures of Hansel and Gretel only with a modern day surveillance age digital bent.

Kerb and Holderman’s screenplay rarely digs all that deep, maintaining an air of erudite profundity that’s more for show than it is anything else. While Bryson and Katz do evolve, while lessons are learned, I can’t say their changes are surprising. More, they’re not passionately presented, their emotional revelations more ho-hum and insignificant than they are anything else.

Acclaimed indie director Alex Ross Perry’s (Listen Up Philip, The Color Wheel) latest Queen of Earth is the idiosyncratic auteur’s best film yet. It’s also one of the better motion pictures I’ve had the good fortune to see so far this year.

For Apple junkies, this is likely to come across as a hit piece. Gibney chooses to take off the rose-colored glasses, show the flaws and the brilliance, attempting to find the wizard behind the curtain, giving a broader insight into a human being so many have tended to look at in awe and with reverence but seldom with understanding.

It’s as if they all collectively shared a bottle of sleeping pills before each scene began filming, the narcoleptic atmosphere so omnipresent I’m a little surprised I didn’t take a nap myself at some point during the proceedings. No, The Transporter Refueled is nothing other than a bad movie, that’s it, and to say anything more is simply a waste of time.