Téchiné, as always, has crafted a visually sumptuous motion picture, but many of these eye-popping tricks do not serve a purpose, the way he plays with time and how he allows editor Hervé de Luze (The Pianist) to eccentrically tie scenes together equally so. In the Name of My Mother certainly has much to recommend, but on the whole the film just doesn’t cut it, ending up as one of the year’s more curious disappoints I’m more frustrated by then I am anything else.

While not without its missteps, and certainly not going to satisfy the masses, for those knowing what it is they are about to see The Green Inferno is about as terrifying an experience as any that can be imagined. I’m not positive I liked it, but that doesn’t make me any less glad I took the time to give the horror effort a look, Roth’s directorial return a startlingly, efficiently brutal reminder of just how strong a genre impresario he can be when he’s of a mind to be one.

There’s just no reason to care, nothing that matters, and when that’s added to the unforgivable disservice done to the newest character, Dennis, the overall effect isn’t just disappointing, it’s downright horrifying.

The Intern (2015) has great potential, De Niro and Hathaway making a terrific team deserving of a better script. But Meyers lets them all down, and that includes herself, unleashing a cavalcade of old ideas so prehistoric they went out of date around the same time women won the right to vote, making the film a bad candidate unworthy of a permanent position.

Sicario lives up to its title, this Mexican slang for a hitman aiming its gunsights at the viewer, leaving those of us who watch broken and battered into a reinforced shell of regret and understanding we might not be able to emerge from anytime soon.

As an attempt to move into more personal territory, as a vehicle for him to stretch, to leave the spectacle behind, I give him props. But as a movie worth watching? As a story I want people to see? Stonewall is a disaster, start to finish, and the only riots that should be associated with it are those of angry ticketholders who wasted good, hard-earned money to view it.

Wildlike is the kind of simple, delicate, nondescript little independent film that sneaks up out of nowhere and melodiously breaks your heart clean in two. It’s a flower of a film growing to unimaginable heights in the cruelest of conditions, never wearing its emotions out in the open yet showcasing them just enough so they have a searing power that earn their tears with subtle, barely perceptible precision.

I’ve always liked Zathura, prefer it over the other Chris Van Allsburg adaptation Jumanji, director Jon Favreau doing a wonderful job bringing these storybook classic to life. Sony’s anniversary Blu-ray presentation doesn’t improve on the original release which means it’s excellent across the board, and if you don’t already own the previous version picking this one up is hardly a bad idea.

I don’t particularly care for Jumanji. I never have. It’s too frantic, too consumed with the razzle-dazzle, never focusing as solidly on the characters and their respective journeys as it should in order to mean something lasting. Still, Sony’s 20th anniversary Blu-ray, while no huge improvement over the previous edition, should please the fans, and for those who do not own the last disc picking this one up for the collection is worth going into the jungle in order to do.