The Boxtrolls and Mr. Peabody & Sherman (both 2014)

What an odd time for animation. Even if we watch a film where the plot only ever hums and characters never pop, we can still marvel at the onscreen techno wonder. Everything looks amazing! “The Boxtrolls” and “Mr. Peabody & Sherman” – the former stop motion mixed with CGI, the latter all CGI – are prime examples. Hum. No pop. “Boxtrolls” comes from studio Laika, who made “Coraline,” an edgy horror tale for cool kids. But “Trolls” misfires with title characters -- tiny ogres live under a Victorian-era city and dress in discarded cardboard -- that fail to spark or overcome their human counterparts, including a status-hungry villain (Ben Kingsley) with a penchant for cabaret. Bummer. Only a fourth-wall-crashing Monty Pythonesque riff on “free will” fired my brain, during the end credits. A remake of the old cartoon shorts about a time-traveling dog and his not-so-bright human boy, “Peabody” is full of a breezy slapstick, bad puns, and warped histories of the Trojan War, Mona Lisa, and more. It relies on poop jokes and greatly underserves a female companion, but it gets in a Mel Brooks cameo as Einstein, and I love Mel Brooks. Boxtrolls: C+ Peabody: B

Nightcrawler (2014)

Imagine a dead serious “Network” written in the darkest pit of humanity, all humor strangled by an utter lack of empathy, with the journalism game run by any dick with a camera. That’s “Nightcrawler.” Jake Gyllenhaal plays Louis Bloom, a petty thief who one night finds his calling: Filming accidents, murders, house fires, and drive-bys, the fresher the gore the better for a top TV news slot. His “employer” is LA’s lowest-rated station, a bottom feeder with the mantra of fear sells. His “boss” is the vampire-hour editor (Renee Russo) who knows her middle age means job death. Bloom speaks in Internet PR babble, product comments, and tweets, using a deflated voice and spouting his love of accounting. He vibes Leo Bloom from “The Producers,” if Bloom had no soul. (Not Joyce Bloom.) Looking starved with bulging eyes, Gyllenhaal is a monster of success as he places civilians and police in harm’s way for a sell. Director/writer Dan Gilroy never judges, he shows us a mirror of journalism endlessly sinking in its race to hit ratings and print money, where cameras are as dangerous as guns. This is the world “Network” warned us about. A-

The Patriot (2000)

“Braveheart” goes Tea Party in “The Patriot,” a three-hour drama/revenge flick starring Mel Gibson as a Very Angry Man that only pretends it’s aghast at the terrible effects of war on one man’s soul and family, but really it’s jerk-off gun worship as every battle and death ups our blood and demand for Gibson to kill and maim. Gibson’s Benjamin Martin is a veteran turned Southern plantation owner – the blacks on his field are (cough) free, not slave – who gets sucked into the Revolutionary War after Brits kill his middle child. Director Rolland Emmerich needs his movie Red Coats -- led by Jason Issacs as a sniveling colonel – to be as evil as possible and commit atrocities that would make Nazis shudder to justify Martin’s blood lust. I get it, it’s a movie and we moviegoers love our Mel in seething Mad Max mode, but the flag-waving propaganda crosses into perversion. More aching is the depiction of slaves. The scene where a black man is conscripted by his cruel master, only to be followed by a comedic ginger 6-year-old boy asking to sign up for battle? Who the fuck thought that was a good idea? Patriotism with no insight. C-

Non-Stop (2014)

“Non-Stop” is not a comedy. I laughed my ass off. Not a good sign for a thriller that stars Liam Neeson in Angry Action Figure Mode and plays on 9/11 fears of hijackings and police state surveillance. Neeson is Bill Marks, suicidal fuck-up air cop with a booze problem and a tragic life who should never hold a gun, much less be issued one by Uncle Sam for work at 30,000 feet. But here Bill is anyway, sweating buckets as he texts back and forth with a psycho who threatens to down the plane unless $1.5M is delivered to a Swiss bank account. One in Bill’s name. Cue drama! Cue the scenes where Neeson’s hero types. And types. And types. And calls his boss. Bill also kills a man, beats random passengers, screams, and waves and fires his gun like a madman. Why? This is “Taken” in the air. A cell phone and a gun, if those are in a script does Neeson just sign on? As stewardesses, Michelle Dockery of “Downton Abbey” and Lupito Nyong’o of “12 Years a Slave” do just about nothing. I’d watch a movie with them as the heroes. C-

Calvary (2014)

Brendan Gleeson plays an Irish village priest who receives a death threat in the confessional box at the start of “Calvary.” “I was 7 when I first tasted semen,” the instigator says, proclaiming that he wants to slay a good priest in the name of revenge as the abuser priest has died. Refusing police help, James seeks out the man in secret among the locals, including a bartender, a butcher, the mayor, the mayor’s gay trick, a pathologist, an American writer, and a wealthy, lonely Londoner. Near all angry at life for its cruelty, or the Church, longtime protector of child rapists. James’ soul is righteous, he having lived as husband and father, his wife now dead, his grown daughter (Kelly Reilly) troubled and haunted. Writer/director John Michael McDonagh’s drama focuses on the trouble and glory of faith, even lost. James’ spirit bends as his week turns to violence, from the same man, others? Rarely is religion treated with such somberness. Alas McDonagh serves up blatant, ugly stereotypes. The trick is a Fox News cartoon. That said, the end broke me as James insists on grace over damnation. That, not the stereotypes, is a notion to live by. B

Trance (2013)

Gotchya films that spin on corkscrew narratives –- “Manchurian Candidate” is my favorite -– succeed only if we care about the characters and only if we dig the deep pit the screenwriters have tossed them into. Danny Boyle’s “Trance” is all crazy turns, pulled rugs, blown loyalties, and bad guys still gabbing after their skull has been shot off. The shocks and surprises hit so often and so outlandishly OTT, it passes suspense and becomes a comedic parade of drunken one-uppers. Numbness sets in. James McAvoy works at an auction house that falls prey to a heist just as a Renoir goes to sale. The work is seemingly lost and our hero is cracked on the skull, leading to memory loss. The heist master (Seymor Cassell) won’t have that and when torture fails, he hires a hypnotist (Rosario Dawson) to peer inside McAvoy’s brain. So to speak. The headachy flash edits are frantic and too hip. The flat characters don’t help. I really could have lived without ever hearing surround sound of vaginal hair being shaved. Boyle, it appears, could not. And if you can get past the firestorm finale without laughing to excess, I salute you. C

Broken City (2013)

An ex-cop PI with a dirty past gets marooned in a FUBAR infidelity case among city elites that results in murder and corrupted land deals. Forget it, Jake, this isn’t sharp dagger classic “Chinatown.” It’s dull spoon thriller “Broken City” with Mark Wahlberg as the dick working for a NYC mayor (Russell Crowe) who’s up for reelection. Mayor’s demand: “Find my wife’s lover,” but he has more in play. Money. The plot is threadbare. Jake Gittes worked for his info. Suffered. Wahlberg’s hero *finds* the bad guy’s plans printed on giant poster board with bold font at a Dumpster. Good actors have saved worse, right? Not this. Crowe plays the mayor in a cartoon mashup of 1970s’ Lex Luther and Donald Trump, with spray-on can orange skin and a dippy toupee. Wahlberg? Autopilot. Director Albert Hughes smart, too a tone for Wahlberg, too brave for the sorry studio? C