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Casey (Ni­cholas Hoult) is an Amer­i­can back­packer trekking across Europe who finds him­self moon­light­ing as a driver for a drug-run­ning op­er­a­tion. When he at­tempts to get away from his bosses, it leads to a high-oc­tane pur­suit on the Au­to­bahn. Felic­ity Jones, An­thony Hop­kins, and Ben Kings­ley also star. Rated PG-13. 99 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Dream­Catcher. (Not re­viewed)


Aus­tralian di­rec­tor Si­mon Stone has adapted Ib­sen’s The Wild Duck to a back­woods Aus­tralian one-in­dus­try town whose lum­ber mill is clos­ing. Ev­ery­body’s con­nected in a lit­tle town like this. The mill owner is the chilly, pa­tri­cian Henry (Ge­of­frey Rush). One of his laid-off work­ers is Oliver (Ewen Les­lie), mar­ried to Char­lotte (Mi­randa Otto), a school­teacher. They have a teenage daugh­ter, the pink-haired Hed­vig (Odessa Young), who has a soft spot for dam­aged an­i­mals. When Henry wings a wild duck, her grand­fa­ther Wal­ter (Sam Neill) brings the wounded bird to Hed­vig to nurse back to health. Wal­ter used to be Henry’s part­ner. Henry is about to marry his much younger house­keeper Anna (Anna Torv). His es­tranged son Chris­tian (Paul Sch­nei­der) re­turns from Cal­i­for­nia, where he has mar­i­tal and al­co­hol prob­lems. Chris­tian and Oliver were best friends grow­ing up. Chris­tian learns that Char­lotte worked for a time as Henry’s house­keeper, be­fore she mar­ried Oliver and gave birth to Hed­vig. Our ducks are now in a row. One of the ma­jor is­sues with which this story grap­ples is the mat­ter of truth-telling, and whether or not it is al­ways a good thing. Not rated. 96 min­utes. The Screen. (Jonathan Richards)


Di­rec­tor Lasse Hall­ström trains his lens on the life of a dog in this story. Across sev­eral own­ers and rein­car­na­tions, one pup at­tempts to dis­cover the rea­son it was put on this planet. Britt Robert­son, Den­nis Quaid, and Peggy Lip­ton play some of the hu­mans in its lives. It sounds like a harm­less, feel-good movie for dog­gie lovers, but be aware: It has at­tracted con­tro­versy and a PETA boy­cott for al­legedly treat­ing one ca­nine star cru­elly. Rated PG. 120 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Dream­Catcher. (Not re­viewed) Train­ing golden ea­gles to aid the Kazakh hunters of Mon­go­lia has been a tra­di­tional skill, handed down from fa­ther to son, for gen­er­a­tions. The Ea­gle

Huntress tells the dra­matic story of one girl, thir­teen-year-old Aishol­pan Nur­gaiv, who trains with her fa­ther to be the first fe­male ea­gle hunter in her fam­ily. This mov­ing doc­u­men­tary by di­rec­tor Otto Bell, bal­ances a por­trait of Kazakh fam­ily life and cul­ture with breath­tak­ing aerial footage of the Al­tai

Moun­tains. Aishol­pan in­hab­its a harsh, un­for­giv­ing ter­rain, where the Kaza­khs live in sym­bi­otic re­la­tion­ship with their en­vi­ron­ment and hunt out of ne­ces­sity. An in­ti­mate look at the re­la­tion­ship be­tween fa­ther and daugh­ter, the film is a feel­good, in­spi­ra­tional story for all ages, es­pe­cially for young girls. Rated G. 87 min­utes. In Kazakh with sub­ti­tles. Vi­o­let Crown. (Michael Abatemarco)


In the lat­est in­stall­ment of the erotic fran­chise that started with

Fifty Shades of Grey — adapted from the block­buster best­selling tril­ogy by E.L. James — Chris­tian Grey (Jamie Dor­nan) and Anas­ta­sia Steele (Dakota John­son) are up to naughty busi­ness in the bed­room once more. This time, Anas­ta­sia takes charge of the frac­tured re­la­tion­ship as Chris­tian grap­ples with his trou­bled past. Rated R. 115 min­utes. Dream­Catcher. (Not re­viewed)


When a teacher named Camp­bell (Char­lie Day) gets his col­league Strick­land (Ice Cube) fired in this com­edy, Strick­land re­sponds in a star­tling man­ner: by chal­leng­ing Camp­bell to a fight on the school­yard after school. Camp­bell does ev­ery­thing he can to ei­ther pre­pare for or avoid the bout, while also dodg­ing Strick­land’s in­creas­ingly de­ranged be­hav­ior. Rated R. 91 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Dream­Catcher. (Not re­viewed)


The first di­rec­to­rial ef­fort by Jor­dan Peele, of the comic duo Key and Peele, is a hor­ror movie about a black man named Chris (a per­fect Daniel Kalu­uya) who trav­els to the home­town of his girl­friend (Al­li­son Wil­liams) to meet her par­ents (Cather­ine Keener and Bradley Whit­ford, both ter­rific). Once there, he learns that African-Amer­i­cans have been dis­ap­pear­ing from the af­flu­ent white com­mu­nity, only to reap­pear as sub­servient and docile — and he could be the next to go. The cul­tural com­men­tary in this new take on The Step­ford Wives is rich and thought-pro­vok­ing, as fans of Peele’s com­edy might ex­pect. How­ever, Peele’s di­rec­to­rial sense is a sur­prise, as his use of fore­ground and back­ground and vis­ual and mu­si­cal clues draw you in, deepen the mys­tery, and creep you out, re­call­ing (and some­times pay­ing di­rect homage to) such slow-burn­ing clas­sics as Rose­mary’s Baby. Ex­pect a jar­ringly vi­o­lent turn in the third act, but the film is an en­gag­ing de­light, as Peele shows more acu­men for the hor­ror genre than most di­rec­tors who work in it full-time. Rated R. 103 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Vi­o­let Crown; Dream­Catcher. (Robert Ker)


The largest film ever shot en­tirely in China and the first English-lan­guage film by di­rec­tor Yi­mou Zhang (House of Fly­ing

Dag­gers) is al­ready a big hit in his home coun­try, and now it comes to Amer­i­can au­di­ences. Matt Da­mon stars as a Euro­pean mer­ce­nary on a mis­sion in his­tor­i­cal China. While there, he learns the hard way that the Great Wall isn’t there to keep out bar­bar­ians, but rather a race of dan­ger­ous mon­sters — and they’re about to in­vade. Rated PG-13. 103 min­utes. Screens in 2-D only at Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Vi­o­let Crown; Dream­Catcher. (Not re­viewed)


This movie tells the story of three AfricanAmer­i­can women — Dorothy Vaughan (Oc­tavia Spencer), Kather­ine John­son (Taraji P. Hen­son), and Mary Jack­son (Janelle Monáe) — bril­liant math­e­ma­ti­cians who were em­ployed in NASA’s pro­gram in the early ‘60s. Di­rec­tor and co-screen­writer Theodore Melfi uses a tra­di­tional struc­ture in adapt­ing Mar­got Lee Shet­terly’s non­fic­tion book about these pi­o­neer­ing women in the Amer­i­can space pro­gram. There’s noth­ing groundbreaking in his sto­ry­telling tech­niques, but the com­fort­able, movie-mo­ment-strewn ap­proach seems to suit the tale and moves it along in a way that’s ac­ces­si­ble, sat­is­fy­ing, and ex­tremely ef­fec­tive. Rated PG. 127 min­utes. Vi­o­let Crown. (Jonathan Richards)


The open­ing cred­its for this dev­as­tat­ing and in­spir­ing movie read “A film by Raoul Peck, writ­ten by James Bald­win.” The text, nar­rated with sen­si­tiv­ity and feel­ing by Samuel L. Jack­son, is taken largely from the notes for a book Bald­win un­der­took to write in 1979. Re­mem­ber This

House was to be an ex­am­i­na­tion of Amer­ica through the lives and early deaths — all be­fore the age of forty — of three mur­dered black Amer­i­can lead­ers: Medgar Evers, Mal­colm X, and Martin Luther King Jr. In a let­ter to his agent, Bald­win ex­presses his trep­i­da­tion about this daunt­ing project, which he de­scribes as “a jour­ney … where you never know what you will find.” He never got be­yond 30 pages of the book; but that con­tent, but­tressed with tele­vi­sion clips of Bald­win speak­ing, and with news­reel, pho­to­graphs, and sam­plings from the pop cul­ture of white Amer­ica, paint an im­age that needs to be seen and heard and ab­sorbed. “Not ev­ery­thing that is faced can be changed,” Bald­win ob­serves near the end of the movie, “but noth­ing can be changed that is not faced.” PG-13. 95 min­utes. Cen­ter for Con­tem­po­rary Arts; Vi­o­let Crown. (Jonathan Richards)


In 2014’s John Wick, Keanu Reeves plays a for­mer hit man who is forced out of re­tire­ment when crim­i­nals beat him up and kill his dog. This time around, Wick’s got a new dog, but his guns, his dap­per suits, and the chip on his shoul­der re­main. There’s a bounty on his head, and when he finds out who put it there, that per­son is go­ing to be on the busi­ness end of some dex­ter­ous gun­play. Brid­get Moy­na­han, Ian McShane, and Reeves’ Ma­trix co-star Laurence Fish­burne also star. Rated R. 122 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14. (Not re­viewed)


This story, like so many sto­ries be­fore it, pays trib­ute to the young artist with a dream. Here the young hope­fuls are Mia (Emma Stone), an as­pir­ing ac­tress, and Seb (Ryan Gosling), a jazz pi­anist. La La Land wears its movie in­flu­ences lov­ingly, from the open­ing Cine­mas­cope credit to the Tech­ni­color pas­tels and brights that bathe its scenes in nos­tal­gia. The story moves through love and loss, as Seb’s dream of a jazz club gets beaten down, and Mia loses heart and aban­dons her quest. That’s not the end of it — there are plenty of highs to come, but it’s a warn­ing: Things don’t al­ways work out the way you think, or hope, or dream. La La Land won six Acad­emy Awards, in­clud­ing Best Ac­tress (Stone), Best Di­rec­tor, and Best Cin­e­matog­ra­phy. Rated PG-13. 128 min­utes. Vi­o­let Crown. (Jonathan Richards)


The comedic in­ter­pre­ta­tion of Bat­man as an over­con­fi­dent jack-of-all-trades nearly stole the show in 2014’s The LEGO Movie. In this spinoff flick, the Caped Cru­sader, voiced again by Will Ar­nett, fights nearly ev­ery­one in his rogue’s gallery along with vil­lains across nu­mer­ous other fran­chises. The an­i­ma­tion is daz­zling, and sight gags fill the screen at nearly all times. This over­stim­u­la­tion, cou­pled with a break­neck pace, means it would re­quire mul­ti­ple view­ings to get ev­ery joke. For­tu­nately, a lot of them are funny, and it’s a rare film that chil­dren and par­ents will en­joy for dif­fer­ent rea­sons: kids will rel­ish the col­or­ful Bat­man ad­ven­ture, while adults will be tick­led by the nods to 50 years of Bat­man mythos. It’s got all of this plus a heart­felt char­ac­ter arc about how Bat­man won’t let any­one get close to him, from po­ten­tial wards such as Robin (Michael Cera) to po­ten­tial arch-en­e­mies such as the Joker (Zach Gal­i­fi­anakis). Rated PG. 104 min­utes. Screens in 2-D only at Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Vi­o­let Crown; Dream­Catcher. (Robert Ker)


A five-year-old boy named Sa­roo (Sunny Pawar) falls asleep on an out-of-ser­vice train in a small-town sta­tion in cen­tral In­dia, and when he wakes, it’s taken him a thou­sand miles from home. He is even­tu­ally adopted from a Cal­cutta or­phan­age by an Aus­tralian cou­ple (Ni­cole Kid­man and David Wen­ham) and raised in Ho­bart, Tas­ma­nia. Twenty years later he’s played by Dev Pa­tel, and de­ter­mined to find his way back to his fam­ily, re­ly­ing on child­hood mem­o­ries and Google Earth to find his home. The first half is won­der­ful, with Greig Fraser’s cin­e­matog­ra­phy fram­ing the tiny kid against the enor­mity of the world in which he is lost. The sec­ond half loses steam. But the end­ing will wring tears out of a turnip. Rated PG-13. 118 min­utes. In English, Bengali, and Hindi with sub­ti­tles. Vi­o­let Crown. (Jonathan Richards)


Writer/di­rec­tor Ken­neth Lon­er­gan tells a tale steeped in the per­mafrost an­guish of per­sonal tragedy. Casey Af­fleck won the Acad­emy Award for his per­for­mance as Lee Chan­dler, who lives as a su­per in an apart­ment com­plex in Boston when he gets the news that his older brother Joe (Kyle Chan­dler) has died of a heart at­tack. Re­turn­ing to his home­town, Lee dis­cov­ers that Joe has left him with the re­spon­si­bil­ity for his six­teen-year-old son Pa­trick (Lu­cas Hedges). But it’s old de­mons that tor­ment Lee’s soul, and run­ning into for­mer friends and ac­quain­tances, as well as his ex-wife Randy (Michelle Wil­liams), bring them un­bear­ably to the sur­face. Lon­er­gan — who won the Os­car for his screen­play — moves back and forth in time seam­lessly through flash­backs, keep­ing the story com­pelling, some­times very funny, filled with sub­tlety, and al­ways real. Rated R. 137 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14. (Jonathan Richards)


“Au­to­bi­og­ra­phy is aw­fully se­duc­tive,” says the late Maya An­gelou in this doc­u­men­tary de­voted to her life and work. In An­gelou’s case, at least, this state­ment bears out — be­fore she be­came revered as an award-win­ning au­thor, her var­ied jobs in­cluded stints as a fry cook, night­club per­former, sex worker, jour­nal­ist, and ac­tivist. Best known for her se­ries of seven au­to­bi­ogra­phies, be­gin­ning with I Know Why

the Caged Bird Sings (1969), An­gelou con­sid­ered her­self a writer who con­tin­ued a tra­di­tion estab­lished by Fred­er­ick Dou­glass — that of the slave nar­ra­tive. This straight­for­ward film is low on in­no­va­tion and stuffed with celebrity ap­pear­ances, in­clud­ing Cicely Tyson, Bill and Hil­lary Clin­ton, and Oprah Win­frey, but An­gelou’s re­mark­able story out­shines the movie’s some­what mun­dane pack­ag­ing. Not rated. 114 min­utes. Jean Cocteau Cinema. (Molly Boyle)


Writer-di­rec­tor Barry Jenk­ins — Os­car-win­ner for the for­mer job — has crafted a pow­er­ful

story of an African-Amer­i­can boy grow­ing up sen­si­tive and sex­u­ally un­cer­tain in the ma­cho jungle of a Mi­ami slum. We see his cen­tral char­ac­ter, Ch­i­ron, as a child (Alex Hib­bert), a teenager (Ash­ton San­ders), and a man (Tre­vante Rhodes). He has a drug-ad­dicted mother (Naomie Har­ris), no fa­ther, a crack-deal­ing men­tor (Ma­her­shala Ali, who won the Os­car for Best Sup­port­ing Ac­tor), a gang of tor­ment­ing bul­lies, and one friend, Kevin, played in suc­ces­sion by Jaden Piner, Jhar­rel Jerome, and An­dré Hol­land. With up-close vi­su­als and hand­held cam­era work, Jenk­ins en­hances the sense of a claus­tro­pho­bic ex­is­tence with no es­cape. He gets great work from his team of ac­tors as Ch­i­ron moves from child­hood to the adult world. It’s a sen­si­tive, mov­ing story of grow­ing up, com­ing out, and sel­f­re­al­iza­tion in a des­per­ate ma­cho world. This small film won the Acad­emy Award for Best Pic­ture. Rated R. 110 min­utes. Vi­o­let Crown. (Jonathan Richards)


Dance is a barely un­der­stood art form. Au­di­ences may re­spond to ar­ti­fice — the pointe shoes and tu­tus of bal­let; they may en­joy be­ing in the pres­ence of beau­ti­ful bod­ies. But see­ing the ex­am­ples of Is­raeli chore­og­ra­pher Ohad Na­harin’s work, through­out the doc­u­men­tary Mr. Gaga of­fers a hint of other pos­si­bil­i­ties — that move­ment can be more than ef­fort­less and per­fect. Na­harin, artis­tic di­rec­tor of Is­rael’s Bat­sheva Dance Com­pany, is fond of say­ing to his dancers be­fore a per­for­mance, “Don’t **** with me. My life de­pends on you.” His work is hu­man, dif­fi­cult, cathar­tic, emo­tional. Mr. Gaga is a rare op­por­tu­nity to wit­ness and taste an artist’s raw, phys­i­cal need and the bril­liant way he has ex­ploded this urge into move­ment. Not rated. 100 min­utes. In English and He­brew with sub­ti­tles. The Screen. (Michael Wade Simp­son)


This movie opens in a men’s room. In di­rec­tor Pablo Lar­ráin’s sly con­struct, the Chilean Sen­ate lounge is fit­ted with uri­nals and wash basins, and the pols con­duct their busi­ness while con­duct­ing their busi­ness. It sets the tone for a witty and fab­u­list ad­ven­ture. Pablo Neruda (Luis Gnecco) was one of the last cen­tury’s great­est po­ets, and also one of his coun­try’s most fa­mous po­lit­i­cal fig­ures, rep­re­sent­ing the Com­mu­nist Party. In 1948 Chile’s pres­i­dent, Gabriel González Videla (Al­fredo Cas­tro) out­laws the Com­mu­nist Party, as a re­sult of which Neruda finds him­self a fugi­tive. He goes on the lam, pur­sued by his own per­sonal Javert, Po­lice In­spec­tor Ós­car Pelu­chon­neau (Gael Gar­cía Ber­nal). As the chase con­tin­ues, we feel an in­creas­ing con­nec­tion be­tween Neruda and Pelu­chon­neau, a sense that they need and com­plete each other. The poet ro­man­ti­cizes his flight, and the po­lice­man finds him­self more and more drawn to the mys­tique of the man he is pur­su­ing. Rated R. 107 min­utes. In Span­ish with sub­ti­tles. Cen­ter for Con­tem­po­rary Arts. (Jonathan Richards)


This an­i­mated movie from Dutch film­maker Michaël Du­dok de Wit, made in col­lab­o­ra­tion with Ja­pan’s Stu­dio Ghi­bli, tells the fa­ble of a man stranded on a de­serted is­land. When a great tur­tle trans­forms into a woman, he makes her his com­pan­ion and the is­land his home un­til the end of his days. With just a few en­vi­ron­ments, vivid an­i­ma­tion steeped in both Euro­pean and Ja­panese styles, and a pa­tient tempo, the film shows us a mov­ing para­ble for life as we all live it. It’s such an ex­tra­or­di­nary ex­pe­ri­ence that you barely no­tice that there isn’t a sin­gle line of di­a­logue. Rated PG. 80 min­utes. Vi­o­let Crown. (Robert Ker)


As­ghar Farhadi (A Sep­a­ra­tion), opens his new movie with an in-your-face sym­bol for mod­ern Iran: a col­laps­ing build­ing. Emad (Sha­hab Hos­seini) and his wife, Rana (Taraneh Ali­doosti), are rousted from their Tehran apart­ment by the pan­icky an­nounce­ment that the ed­i­fice is about to fall. He is a teacher, and the cou­ple are also ac­tors, ap­pear­ing to­gether as Willy and Linda Lo­man in a small pro­duc­tion of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Sales­man. When a col­league of­fers them an apart­ment, Rana is at­tacked there by an in­truder. From here, Farhadi tracks the psy­cho­log­i­cal evo­lu­tion of his two pro­tag­o­nists, as Rana be­comes para­noid and hos­tile, while Emad grows in­creas­ingly bent on re­venge, which seems more rooted in the in­sult to his man­hood than in his wife’s trauma. Like Lo­man, he is a man of hon­or­able but lim­ited qual­i­ties who al­lows him­self to be warped by cir­cum­stances. The Sales­man won the Os­car for Best For­eign Lan­guage Film, but Farhadi did not at­tend the cer­e­mony in protest against Pres­i­dent Trump’s travel ban. Not rated. 125 min­utes. In Per­sian with sub­ti­tles. Cen­ter for Con­tem­po­rary Arts. (Jonathan Richards)


Di­rec­tor M. Night Shya­malan takes the split per­son­al­ity of Psy­cho’s Nor­man Bates and mul­ti­plies it by 12, of­fer­ing au­di­ences an an­tag­o­nist (James McAvoy) with 24 dis­tinct per­son­al­i­ties. When he kid­naps three teenage girls, in­clud­ing young Casey (Anya Tay­lor-Joy), they fig­ure out how to get the help­ful per­son­al­i­ties to aid them in their es­cape from the harm­ful ones. Re­fresh­ingly, the movie is nei­ther overly grim nor vi­o­lent. It is also not very scary, as Shya­malan im­plies rather than shows the more grue­some el­e­ments, even in the fi­nal con­flict. In­stead, Shya­malan milks the unique con­cept for all it’s worth and even sneaks in a sur­prise for long­time fans of his work. Rated PG-13. 117 min­utes. Re­gal Sta­dium 14; Dream­Catcher. (Robert Ker)


Ines Con­radi (San­dra Hüller) is a no-non­sense in­ter­na­tional busi­ness­woman, op­er­at­ing in the up­per ech­e­lons of a blood­less, male-dom­i­nated world. Her fa­ther, Win­fried Con­radi (Peter Si­monis­chek) is a high school mu­sic teacher, a rum­pled, ag­ing slacker. He’s also an in­vet­er­ate prac­ti­cal joker. He likes to slip into wigs and fake teeth to tran­si­tion into his al­ter-ego, Toni Erd­man. As Toni, he is ev­ery cor­po­rate ca­reerist’s worst parental night­mare. Wear­ing a dark Neil Young wig and a mouth­ful of buck teeth, he pops up into his daugh­ter’ busi­ness life, and of­fers his ser­vices as a life coach to the cor­po­rate CEO to whom she is pitch­ing a ma­jor deal. She tries to po­litely en­dure him, fi­nally loses her tem­per and sends him pack­ing. But like a bad pfen­nig, he keeps turn­ing up. Ines is made of tough ma­te­rial, but his oafish, of­ten ham-handed prank­ish­ness is a re­lent­less force. Rated R. 162 min­utes. In Ger­man with sub­ti­tles. Jean Cocteau Cinema. (Jonathan Richards)


Armed con­flicts, dis­placed civil­ians, and dis­trust be­tween na­tives and for­eign­ers pep­per many of this year’s Os­carnom­i­nated shorts. There’s also a charm­ing tale about a Swiss woman who yearns to con­nect with a train con­duc­tor (Jane Birkin in La femme et le TGV) and the an­i­mated ac­count of a sex-and-drink-crazed Cana­dian reck­on­ing with the long-term toll of his de­bauch­ery (Pear Brandy and Cig­a­rettes, which is not for chil­dren) — but in the doc­u­men­tary se­lec­tions, the Syr­ian refugee cri­sis casts a long shadow. In par­tic­u­lar, 4.1 Miles, about mem­bers of the Greek coast guard res­cu­ing mi­grants from a choppy stretch of the Mediter­ranean, is a gut-wrench­ing ex­pe­ri­ence and an ex­em­plar of doc­u­men­tary jour­nal­ism. Shown in four dif­fer­ent pro­grams (live-ac­tion, an­i­ma­tion, and two shows’ worth of docs). Pro­grams — live ac­tion: 3 chiles; an­i­mated: 2.5 chiles; doc­u­men­tary: 4 chiles. Not rated. Run­ning times vary. The Screen. (Jeff Acker)

Anna Ken­drick in Ta­ble 19, at Re­gal Sta­dium 14 and Vi­o­let Crown

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