Tom Keogh

There’s a lot of exposition involved in making all this palace intrigue clear. But Zhang balances the talky sections with breathtaking outdoor scenes. Zhang’s trademark, preternaturally balletic fight sequences also do not disappoint.

The basics of Draper’s story hold promise, but the film derails because Jack and Oliver just aren’t charming as social pariahs.

The unusual but revealing documentary Matangi / Maya / M.I.A., a hodgepodge of old video diaries, music videos, performances and interviews spanning decades, reflects M.I.A.’s passionate efforts to enlighten fans about victims of government oppression — while also getting people around the world dancing to her music.

Cooke presents a case that the war on drugs in America is not only a no-win scenario, it is no longer (if it ever was) designed to be won as much as fulfill disturbing, narrow agendas in the public and private sectors.

Perhaps in an effort to tell a PG story about an all-ages storyteller, Te Ata lacks vitality, pulling its punches and sometimes resorting to a cheesy shorthand. (A scene featuring Greene’s reservation leader and a racist senator is especially cheap.) Despite that, Te Ata lingers in the memory as a tale of an artist’s promise — and fulfillment.

There’s plenty here to enjoy.

Bell can sculpt a funny moment to polished realization, but deprive it of oxygen at the same time. It’s not until late in the film’s third act that a different feeling emerges, a looser hand that provides room for characters to be more warm and human than pieces in a constricted design.

Ripped works best as a middling series of gags about being far too many tokes over the line.

In more careless hands, Middle Man’s deranged farce could have resulted in an unchecked, undisciplined movie with nothing to say. But beneath the roller-coaster madness here is an earthbound terror that art is meant to reveal.

A riveting and illuminating documentary.