A beautiful and proper very British biography, J.P. Devine writes.

The film is ably done with just the right amount of breath-catching moments, splendid performances, and clouds of the dark smoke of mendacity, J.P. Devine writes.

Aretha Franklin documentary gives a primal scream of joy and faith, which only an African American Baptist church can provide, J.P. Devine writes.

The fuse blows out, and the film suddenly flattens and goes stale, J.P. Devine writes.

All players, guards, convicts, visitors and staff are perfectly cast and well placed, J.P. Devine writes.

The film, despite its high-quality production and talented players, is a melancholy matinee movie, J.P. Devine writes.

In Ciro Guerra and Cristina Gallego’s “Birds of Passage” we get it all: gringos, grease guns and greed. Think the “Godfather’s” Corleone family in Northern Colombia. For Sicilians we get the Wayuu, an enormous tribe with all the bells and whistles of a Brooklyn mob family in simpler clothes and family rituals, omertà like codes […]

The final 20 minutes will make you wish the exit sign was brighter, J.P. Devine writes.