The film indicts both repression and terrorism, and it showcases marital fidelity in the teeth of challenging circumstances. But the moviemaking is weak.

Those who know the films of writer-director, performer, Elia Suleiman, know that he is an expert at a particular kind of comedy, partly deadpan, partly satire and parody, partly gentle about human nature.

On the whole, this is a very cheerful film though most of the characters are not without their problems.

Howard doesn't like the stigma that dads cannot be caregivers, or that they are blundering caricatures or absent. This was not her experience. So, she decided to present "the media image of dads in a new light, inspired by hope."

Irresistible will change as few lives as opinions. But its warning about the grip the wealthy have on the process and its appeal for civility may prove timely as November looms.

Ingimundur has gone through grief, traumatic consequences, emotional collapse, but also steps towards apology, reconciliation, some possibility for peace in his soul and in his life.

There is the innate desire to be one with the land, to know one’s place, the pain of leaving it, contrasting with the majority of local neat comfortable homes, a life that is only temporary.

Bridget destroys her child, after which O'Sullivan's script insists that any remorse Bridget might feel is misplaced and represents a chink in the armor of her secular feminism.

The audience is plunged into an unfamiliar world, asked to think about contemporary uprisings and revolutions, especially in Latin America, to think about the exploitation of children in war.

It cuts through the complexity and highlights basic truths. It reminds parents and kids alike that the moments when we’re happiest and at our best are often the simplest ones. 

The playing is generally astounding, and that alone makes for an enriching hour of public television.

Racism, after all, comes about through personal ignorance and blindness, sometimes trickling into America’s most esteemed and storied institutions.

This is an intelligently made film, well-acted and directed, exploring a difficult subject, relationships between the experience of pain and sexuality, offering much to reflect on.

Michael Jr. as Ben brings soul and spirit to a role that will feel resonant to any parent of a certain age.

Anyone expecting some kind of righteously indignant, stentorian rant from Ms. Meeropol will be disappointed. In fact, she does something far more surgical: She makes Cohn ridiculous.

Spike Lee makes the point that the burdensome, sometimes crippling, legacy of armed conflict can be equally infernal.

In many cases, those undergoing physical hardship need spiritual consolation just as much, if not more so, than practical solutions.

What enhances nostalgia from a malingerer’s daydream to worthwhile study is the ability to re-evaluate the joy against what soured it—precisely what’s missing here.

It is his and others’ many honest, searing flares of temper that give Lance a rapturous allure. The anguish, both self-imposed and in response to a corrupt system, has built up over decades and finally finds an outlet.

For the most part, it's a very entertaining documentary, but one with curious holes in its history.