AMERICAN MADE

1/2 R, 115 min. Through today only at Lisbon. Still playing at Stonington, Westbrook. As soon as the Universal logo flickers and switches to its retro 1970s look and the disco music starts to play, jazzing up Jimmy Carter speeches and old news footage, we know what we’re in for with the cocaine-smuggling adventure “American Made.” This is a romp and a half. Maybe even three. Director Doug Liman has never been a minimalist filmmaker, and “American Made” just might be his most maximalist film yet. There’s a breezy sunniness to this film, which looks like a faded snapshot reclaimed from a 1980s photo album. VHS lines and time stamps crackle effervescently. “American Made” casts a nostalgic golden filter on what was a rather dark and dramatic period in U.S. history. Drug cartel-related violence plagued the Southeast while the first lady urged everyone to “just say no.” Meanwhile the American government was essentially allowing the illegal import of cocaine while providing guns to the rebels fighting the Communist Sandinista army in Central America. This is all told through the true life story of pilot, drug smuggler and informant Barry Seal (Tom Cruise). — Rafer Guzman, Newsday

THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES

PG-13, 121 minutes. Through tonight only at Mystic Luxury Cinemas. “Battle of the Sexes” shares its title with a headline-grabbing 1973 tennis match between 29-year-old women’s champion Billie Jean King (Emma Stone) and 55-year-old former star Bobby Riggs (Steve Carell). It’s an excellent example of hyperbolic branding that reinforced men’s fears of emasculation at the hands of some imagined bogeywoman — when really, as Stone’s King tells a smug tennis official (Bill Pullman), “We just want a little bit of what you’ve got. That’s what you can’t stand.” “Battle of the Sexes,” directed by spouses Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton (“Little Miss Sunshine”), feels like the right movie at the right time: an upbeat, great-looking and beautifully acted piece of entertainment that also works as a simple request for respect and equal treatment in American society. — Rafer Guzman, Newsday

BLADE RUNNER 2049

1/2 R, 163 minutes. Through tonight only at Niantic, Mystic Luxury Cinemas. Still playing at Waterford, Stonington, Lisbon, Westbrook. Filmmaker Denis Villeneuve has taken on the herculean task of directing the sequel to Ridley Scott’s 1982 sci-fi classic “Blade Runner,” a feat that seems nearly impossible to pull off, considering the reverence with which fans hold the original, one of the most unique and influential pieces of sci-fi cinema. Villeneuve’s film, “Blade Runner 2049,” is a remarkable achievement, a film that feels distinctly auteurist, yet also cut from the very same cloth as Scott’s film. This epic riff on the styles, themes and characters of “Blade Runner” expand the scope and story of this world. Written by original screenwriter Hampton Fancher and Michael Green, “2049” is a meditative and moving film, sumptuously photographed by legendary cinematographer Roger Deakins. To belabor story details is to miss the bigger picture of “Blade Runner 2049.” The style is rich, the themes are complex, but the story is a simple, classically cinematic tale. A man is faced with an existential quandary through which he reckons with his own soul and identity in the face of incredible dehumanization. As LAPD officer K, searching out illegal replicants, Ryan Gosling is perfectly cast as a successor to Deckard (Harrison Ford). His nonchalance reflects the uneasy, distrustful daily existence in this dystopian, isolated future. He is riveting when K’s spirit tries to break through the studiously placid surface. — Katie Walsh, Tribune Content Agency

BREATHE

PG-13, 117 minutes. Niantic. Robin Cavendish (Andrew Garfield) is a tea broker who exudes confidence — a quality that attracts the attention of perkily appealing socialite Diana Blacker (Claire Foy). The two look good together, and their marriage is a foregone conclusion. It’s the 1950s, and the British couple seems destined for a bright, mostly untroubled future. But their bliss is threatened when Robin contracts polio, becomes paralyzed from the neck down and is confined to a hospital bed. Dependent on a breathing machine to survive, he unselfishly beseeches Diana to pursue a life without him — an idea that she refuses to accept. Diana insists that some solution can be found, and Robin has no choice but to do what’s necessary to accede to her wishes. The first step is leaving the hospital and its atmosphere of doom and gloom. The second is fully reintegrating Robin into society — and that opportunity comes when, with the help of his inventor friend Teddy Hall (Hugh Bonneville), he comes up with a wheelchair with a built-in respirator. It’s the beginning of Robin’s life as a “responaut” and as an advocate for people with disabilities. The fact-based “Breathe” is obvious Oscar bait, but its engaging story and appealing cast make that agenda easy to excuse. Working from a screenplay by William Nicholson (“Gladiator”), director Andy Serkis keeps the tear-jerking to a minimum as he focuses on the challenges that the Cavendishes faced in keeping Robin — and their marriage — alive. And yes, it’s the same Andy Serkis who’s better known as a motion-capture actor. Garfield (“Hacksaw Ridge”) brings his usual boyish charm to the proceedings while allowing for the occasional burst of precisely calculated angst. Foy (Netflix’s “The Crown”) arguably has the more difficult role, hinting at Diana’s inner doubts while maintaining a sunshiny demeanor. — Calvin Wilson, St. Louis Post-Dispatch

THE FOREIGNER

R, 114 minutes. Starts Friday at Niantic. Still playing at Westbrook, Lisbon. Legendary action star and martial arts maestro Jackie Chan gets his “Taken” moment with the terrorism thriller “The Foreigner,” written by David Marconi, directed by frequent Bond director Martin Campbell. Chan co-stars as a man seeking vengeance for the death of his daughter in a bloody London bombing. His counterpart is a grizzled former 007 himself, Pierce Brosnan, growling his way into a meaty and morally ambiguous role as former IRA member and Irish Deputy Minister Liam Hennessy, attempting to politick his way around the aftermath of the bombing, which is claimed by a rouge IRA cell. Adapted from Stephen Leather’s novel “The Chinaman,” “The Foreigner” is only so-titled because the alternative would have caused an outcry. Chan’s character Quan Ngoc Minh is mostly referred to as “the Chinaman” throughout, even though he’s ethnically Vietnamese. Despite its literary origins, the film feels a bit like a writer tossed a few darts at a board labeled with aging action stars and various terrorist groups and just decided to make it work. Jackie Chan vs. the Irish Republican Army? That could work. What’s next: Bruce Willis vs. ETA? Jean-Claude Van Damme takes on Aum Shinrikyo? Chan’s role is brooding, serious and simple. He wants names. Names of those responsible for his daughter’s death. Rebuffed by the police and government, he relies on his old bag of tricks, developed in the jungles of Vietnam, honed by U.S. Special Forces. Chan, now in his 60s, isn’t the energetic tornado of whirling kicks and punches he once was, but he’s still got it. His fighting style in the film is brutish, resourceful and extremely effective. Brosnan is the talker, deploying his suaveness, talking out of both sides of his mouth to British politicians and his cabal of former (or are they?) IRA militants. — Katie Walsh, Tribune Content Agency

GEOSTORM

1/2 PG-13, 109 minutes. Niantic, Waterford, Stonington, Westbrook, Lisbon. “Geostorm” finds ways to draw attention away from an interesting use of weather as a weapon by using a cold front of political jabber. The problems in “Geostorm” were caused by director Dean Devlin and co-writer Paul Guyot as they have taken a passable action film and buried it under a tsunami of political muck. Politics can work – even in an action movie – but each smart twist needs to be followed by an even smarter turn. Both Devlin and Guyot have worked heavily in television and their writing comes across like the half-baked plot lines of a low-grade TV show. Jake Lawson (Gerard Butler) is the creative mastermind behind the development of an interconnected series of satellites positioned around the planet in such a way that can be used to stop severe weather from hurricanes to heatwaves. It wouldn’t be a role for Butler if he wasn’t playing a character who has no time for authority figures. His snippy attitude goes too far and it finally gets him fired as the main man at the International Space Station where the weather controlling system known as Dutch Boy is run. The name comes from the story of the boy who stuck his finger in a damn until repairs could be made. There would be no movie if everything was blues skies and sunshine. After a couple of freak accidents result in major catastrophes, it’s decided that Lawson’s the only person who can make the quick jaunt into space to find the problem and correct it before more bad weather arrives. No one needs another sub-zero event like the one in Afghanistan that turned an entire village into a tribute to Disney’s “Frozen.” As Lawson and his odd team try to find the problem, Max and his secret girlfriend, Secret Service agent Sarah Wilson (Abbie Cornish), must deal with the political elements that are little more than recycled plot points. Is the president corrupt? Who can be trusted? Why is there no security for Air Force One? Are all politicians so stupid they think no one

will be that upset with billions of people being killed by deadly weather patterns created by a system under the control of the United States government? — Rick Bentley, Tribune Content Agency

HAPPY DEATH DAY

PG-13, 96 minutes. Waterford, Stonington, Westbrook, Lisbon. “Happy Death Day,” the story of a woman who’s caught in an endless loop of her own death, follows in the footsteps of “Get Out” by taking familiar elements from the horror genre but delivering the scares with more wit, wisdom and wonder. It starts with Tree Gelbman (Jessica Rothe), a sorority sister in desperate need of some sensitivity training, waking up in a strange college dorm room. Her meeting with the dorm’s occupant, the sweet and naïve Carter Davis (Israel Broussard), is the start of a string of humiliating moments magnified by it being Tree’s birthday. Her suffering comes to an end when a man dressed in all black wearing a baby face mask attacks and kills her. Tree wakes the next morning (that’s really the same morning) with a major sense of déjà vu and, ultimately, a murderous end to her day. It only takes Tree three or four times of being killed before she realizes that until she figures out the identity of her killer, the day will continue to repeat. But each time Tree awakens, she’s a bit weaker. The real killer here (figuratively speaking) is that the suspect list is massively long because of Tree’s lack of caring for anyone but herself. This is where “Happy Death Day” takes a different approach to the genre. Scott Lobdell’s script features many tropes from the horror film world. It starts with the central figure of Tree, a beautiful blonde who always seems to be wearing the wrong shoes to run away from her killer. But in a twist, she ends up being both the victim and savior in this story. — Rick Bentley, Tribune Content Agency

IT

R, 135 minutes. Starts Friday at Mystic Luxury Cinemas. Still playing at Waterford, Stonington, Westbrook, Lisbon. Here’s the good news: Pennywise is as creepy as ever in the new “It.” Thanks to a bigger budget and some improved special effects some 27 years later he really gets the chance to spook the kids of Derry, Maine. Bill Skarsgard (son of Stellan, brother of Alexander) has infused Stephen King’s killer clown with a pathological menace that’s more reminiscent of Heath Ledger’s Joker than Tim Curry’s goofily sadistic take on the character in the 1990s miniseries adaptation. It helps that he’s gotten an upgraded makeup job and a more antiquated (and scarier) costume of 17th century ruffs and muted whites. His teeth are bigger, his hair is less cartoonish, his eyes are more yellow and his mobility has become terrifyingly kinetic. Indeed, the new “It” goes all-out with the horror in Part One of the story, which is focused on the plight of a group of children in the 1980s who are haunted and hunted by a clown only they can see. Things that the miniseries only alluded to are depicted with merciless glee. Did you want to see a gang of bullies cutting a kid’s stomach? “It” has that. Or witness a father looking lustily at his pre-teen daughter? “It” has that too. The bad news is that “It” still doesn’t add up to much. — Lindsey Bahr, Associated Press

KINGSMAN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE

R, 141 minutes. Through today only at Westbrook. Still playing at Stonington, Lisbon. “Kingsman: The Secret Service” caught many by surprise when it was released in 2014. On the surface, it’s an updated, cheekier riff on Bond — the British gentleman spy gets an upgrade when a lower-class Cockney lad gets recruited into their ranks, utilizing his street smarts and brute force. It was shockingly violent, soundtracked to classic pop hits, and the one-two punch of director Matthew Vaughn’s dizzying camera work and star Taron Egerton’s crinkly-eyed charm pummeled audiences into thinking it was all “fun.” However, the sequel, “Kingsman: The Golden Circle,” really shows the seams on this franchise. In upping the ante we can see that this whole affair is just a truly cynical, painfully retrograde pastiche of meaningless pop nostalgia wrapped around a nonsensical plot, sprinkled with a dusting of repulsive sexism. Fun. In “Golden Circle,” Kingsman agent Eggsy (Egerton) seemingly has it all together as a gentleman spy, before it all falls apart at the hands of a kooky entrepreneur villain much like it did in the first film. This time, our disruptor of industry is Poppy Adams (Julianne Moore), an intrepid drug lord. — Katie Walsh, Tribune Content Agency

THE LEGO NINJAGO MOVIE

1/2 PG, 101 minutes. Through today only at Lisbon. Still playing at Westbrook. With the wild success of both “The Lego Movie” and “The Lego Batman Movie,” released just earlier this year, it stands to reason that Warner Bros. would strike while the iron is hot and churn out more Lego-themed movies, like “The Lego Ninjago Movie,” which sadly proves that when it comes to the super fun Lego movies, there can be diminishing returns. — Katie Walsh, Tribune Content Agency

LOVING VINCENT

1/2 PG, 94 minutes. Madison Art Cinemas, Mystic Luxury Cinemas. You have, I am certain, never seen anything quite like “Loving Vincent,” which is being promoted as the world’s first entirely hand-painted movie. It’s an animated film, but that descriptor isn’t quite accurate: To tell this story about a mystery surrounding the 1890 death of artist Vincent Van Gogh, filmmakers Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman assembled a cast, found period-appropriate costumes and sets, and shot the film. Then the real work began: Every frame—more than 65,000 of them— was hand-painted over in oil paint in the style of Van Gogh, by a team of more than 100 artists. The result is a curious and often exquisite blend of two art forms. With settings and characters inspired by a number of Van Gogh’s paintings, the film unfolds as if the viewer fell asleep in a museum and dreamt of art that came alive. Blue clouds swirl over a village; a night sky blinks with lacy stars; a butter-yellow sun sinks over a tangerine-colored field; a dim tavern is lit by gold and green rings of light—all rendered in visibly textured brushstrokes. Rain falls in dashes of straight gray lines; a head of blond hair catches a bit of blue from the sky. “Loving Vincent” is almost too beautiful for its own good; I found myself, too often, so dazzled by the form that I quite forgot about the content. If this script had been conventionally filmed and released, I suspect the movie might be quickly forgotten; the story, which moves backward and forward from Van Gogh’s life into events after his death, doesn’t feel fully developed. But that doesn’t really matter; it was a pleasure to become happily lost in this unique film’s world of color and line, and to see two filmmakers’ mad dream come true. — Moira MacDonald, The Seattle Times