The facts of Louie Zamperini’s life are extraordinary, but what truly makes his story one-of-a-kind are the emotions involved. Fear, pain, courage and faith—the kind of all-encompassing dedication that only the strongest survivors possess—these feelings often coexisted in what must be one of the most extraordinary lives ever lived. No wonder Hollywood has been trying to make a movie about his life since the 1950’s.

Director Angelina Jolie’s Unbroken, based upon Laura Hillenbrand’s bestseller, does a fine job with the facts of Zamperini’s life, but struggles in making us feel the deep emotion and empathy a story like his  should evoke.

The film chronicles Louie’s almost unbelievable story of survival: after the WWII bomber’s plane crashed over the Pacific, he was stranded at sea for 43 days before being captured by the Japanese and hustled around to several POW camps, each with increasingly brutal conditions. He survived relentless torture, beatings and immense starvation, as well as the kind of psychological damage it takes a lifetime of recovery to overcome.

Louie’s dramatic struggles during the war are intermingled with stories of his childhood and teenage years; a young Italian-American drifter with no direction, he was convinced by his brother, Pete, to take up running and eventually became a star, breaking records during the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

The cuts between the intense scenes of war and the quiet backstory are sometimes jarring, but set a nice pace until the war scenes take over. The first half of the film is pretty extraordinary; the stranded-at-sea segment, in particular, is absolutely riveting. But once Louie is imprisoned and becomes a merciless target for the brutal camp commander Watanabe, also known as The Bird (Takamasa Ishihara, rather miscast), the movie settles into a workmanlike pacing that really drags the film down. Scenes of quiet power, whispered conversations between POWs as they find ways to steal food and listen in on news about the war effort, are juxtaposed with scenes of increasingly brutal—and numbing—physical and emotional abuse.

Even if you haven’t read Hillenbrand’s book, it’s easy to guess that Jolie and a slew of writers (the Coen Brothers, Richard LaGravenese and Willaim Nicholson) are giving us the Spark Notes version; easily digestible, pretty and rather dull. The plot is missing some crucial links. Louie’s Olympic runner backstory is pretty interesting, until it’s abandoned. How did Louie end up as a soldier, exactly? We’re told Louie misses his family terribly, but we only get one brief scene of them coping with his potential loss during his two-year absence. There are many scenes where the audience is expected to extrapolate emotions that the movie doesn’t deliver on, which leads to a lot of tonal confusion.

Unbroken is a serviceable but hardly gripping biopic.

How are we supposed to feel, for example, when The Bird begins to relentlessly beat Louie with his belt? Are we angry at The Bird? Sure, but there is more to his character than the movie is willing to reveal. Why does he pick on Louie so much? What is his endgame? Is he simply a sadist, or does he feel he is doing what is right for his country? The central relationship in the film is between these two men with unbreakable spirits, yet we can’t get a bead on exactly what their relationship is, other than tormentor vs. captor.

Then there’s the ending, which may leave many cold. The film ends on a nice note, but then come the credits, with more than a few “explainers” letting us know what happened to the characters next. Might we have seen, for example, Louie’s battle with nightmares and alcoholism following the war? His trouble marriage? Or his ultimate redemption, brought about by his conversion to Christianity and his desire to make peace with his wartime captors? There is a powerful story of redemption here, but why did the filmmakers feel the need to bury it? Many war epics are three hours, but this one clocks in closer to two. I’m usually a fan of brevity, but in this case an extra hour could have given us a fuller picture on the scope of Louie’s life.

Despite the film’s myriad flaws, there is brilliance here, and that mainly comes in the form of Jack O’Connell, who does an outstanding job as Louie. O’Connell conveys emotions that would take pages to explain in a book through a simple glare, a laugh or an off-color joke. Where the writing falters in portraying the indomitable spirit of this man, O’Connell fills in the gaps. It’s one of the most physically grueling, effortless performances in ages.

As usual, I have to praise Roger Deakins’ cinematography as well. This is just a gorgeous-looking film, from the translucent blues of the ocean to the black soot of a coal mine, this is as polished-looking a movie as you’re likely to find this year.

Jolie is no slouch behind the camera, either. She makes good use of tracking shots and long takes, letting the movie’s best scenes play out without rushing us along too quickly.

The filmmakers have testified to how difficult making Unbroken was, and the struggle shows in almost every frame. From the writing to the staging to the editing, the film is like a pie with too many fingers in it. Making movies is hard work, but it should never look this hard. I think Louie’s story would actually be much better suited to a TV miniseries, a medium that would allow the emotions of his journey to really sink in. We may get a great filmed version of the life of Louie Zamperini someday. But, while Unbroken is passionate and occasionally stirring filmmaking, we’ll have to keep on waiting.

Whatever criticisms you may level at the first two films of Peter Jackson’s ambitious trilogy of Hobbit films (and there are many), one thing is certain: they did not lack heart. Amidst Jackson’s increasingly bothersome dependence on over-indulgent CGI and a few too-many side plots and characters, the story, conflict and emotions at the center have remained very engaging.

I feared that The Battle of the Five Armies, the third film in the trilogy (not a word I ever thought I’d use to describe a Hobbit adaptation), would buck the trend, focusing entirely too much on the battle the title emphasizes and foregoing a satisfying conclusion to the journey of Bilbo and the dwarves in their effort to reclaim their homeland.

I’m very glad to say I was wrong. While the film does indeed feature a handful of entirely spectacular battle sequences, it’s the quiet moments of the film I’ll remember the most, the kind of intimate conversations and interactions that elevated Jackson’s previous Lord of the Rings trilogy into legend.

The story picks up immediately after the last film left off, with the menacing dragon Smaug (voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch) set to destroy the city of Lake town and its inhabitants. That threat is dispensed of rather quickly (and anticlimactically) when warrior Bard (Luke Evans) fells the beast with a spear. But even bigger troubles are brewing.

After reclaiming the mountain of Erebor from Smaug, the dwarves hole themselves up in the mountain as leader Thorin (Richard Armitage) attempts to locate a magic stone that belonged to his father. But the others fear his increasing isolation and jealous nature may be the result of “dragon sickness;” an obsession with gold. Things get worse when Thorin refuses to allow the displaced people of Lake town asylum in the mountain as he had originally promised. And others have a stake in the mountain too: the Elves, led by Thranduil (Lee Pace), have jewels in the mountain that belong to them. And the menacing orc Azog the Defiler is amassing his own orc army to storm the mountain, which could act as sort of a strategic military stronghold for the Necromancer, who is on his way to reclaiming his former title of Lord Sauron. These varying conflicts set the stage for a massive battle that could determine the future of Middle Earth.

A big problem with this setup is the lack of a very particular character: a Hobbit. The title refers to Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman), who has accompanied the dwarves on their journey to reclaim their homeland. J.R.R. Tolkien’s original story focused on the perspective of this little Hobbit as he comes to terms with the mighty challenges around him. In this film, there’s so much politics to focus on and so many characters, Bilbo gets a bit lost in the equation. And that’s a shame, because Freeman is a very fine Bilbo, once again striking that fine balance between heroism and helplessness that made Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee such classic characters in the original trilogy.

Despite some missteps, the final Hobbit movie wraps up the tale in a grand and satisfying fashion.

But Bilbo still plays an important part in the story, acting as sort of the clear-headed mediator between the various warring parties. And his relationship to Thorin grows even stronger and more affecting than before. Freeman and Armitage are world-class actors, and seeing them playing off each other in-between the movie’s many frenetic moments is a real pleasure.

Other characters receive a far less noble sendoff. I ultimately appreciate the direction the filmmakers took new Elvish character Tauriel (Evangeline Lily) and her complicated relationship with Kili the dwarf (Aidan Turner). But Legolas (Orlando Bloom) fails to justify his appearance in the movie besides getting to be in some badass action scenes.

A parallel storyline concerning the fate of Gandalf (Ian McKellan) and his struggle against the Necromancer’s forces also falls flat. We get token re-appearances from Galadriel (Cate Blanchett), Elrond (Hugo Weaving) and Saruman (Christopher Lee), but after the extensive buildup these characters got in the previous films, their sendoff seems pretty unceremonious and anti-climactic. Their roles are essentially reduced to cameos.

I expect the main draw of the movie will be the titular battle (or rather, series of battles), and they deliver big-time. Although never matching the scope or scale of the Lord of the Rings films (how could they?), the battles are nonetheless mighty impressive. Despite a large middle section that consists of little more than action, it’s amazing how Jackson and company were able to keep things interesting. Part of this is the changing perspectives as we jump back and forth between characters, but another part is the variety of battles on display. We leave a massive, clashing army for a smaller skirmish or one of several one-on-one fights, and it’s all so thrilling to watch. I saw it in 3-D, and I highly recommend it. The action, much of it set against a gorgeous snowy backdrop, really pops off the screen, and it speaks to what Jackson has been able to do with 10 years of advanced technology since we left the original trilogy.

But I was most grateful for how the film handles the book’s big moments in its latter half. There are a lot of deaths in the book, and I dreaded the moments they arrived on screen. It really speaks to how the filmmakers have allowed us to connect with these characters in a way that even the brief book could never really get around to. Without spoiling anything, I was really pleased with the way these events were handled onscreen (despite one notable exception).

I was hoping that Five Armies’ relatively brief running time (compared to the first two anyway) would mean we could avoid being subjected to Jackson’s hackneyed attempts to directly tie the events of The Hobbit into The Lord of the Rings, even though their events are set decades apart. Alas, this just means these pointless diversions were truncated, rather than excised entirely. I already mentioned the disappointing wrap up to the Necromancer story arc, but what’s even worse is the nudge-nudge-wink-wink references to other LOTR characters the writers couldn’t find a way to squeeze in here. There’s also the wrap-around story introduced at the beginning of the first movie, which I found irritating to begin with. It comes full circle here, in a haphazard, almost slapdash fashion. It’s pretty groan-worthy.

Thankfully, the movie has it where it counts. Despite its many diversions, the story wraps up the intimate tale of its source material perfectly. In its best moments, it matches both the intimacy and the grandeur of Jackson’s magnificent original trilogy. This is the closest a Hobbit movie has come to matching it. I have to question some of the director’s more iffy creative decisions, but on the whole I was satisfied with the grand finale of this Middle Earth tale. If you’ve enjoyed this take on the Hobbit tale thus far, Five Armies will not disappoint.

As a big Star Wars fan, I’m always down for a good spoof of George Lucas’ seminal sci-fi saga. But, let’s face it, Mel Brooks’ Spaceballs is really dumb. It’s less Blue Harvest and more Thumb Wars.

It’s strange to compare Mel Brooks’ comedy to any other Star Wars spoof because Spaceballs, refreshingly, is not intent to re-hash the story every movie fan knows so well. It’s more of an original story that uses comedic archetypes of Star Wars’ major characters. But the movie’s biggest sin is that, no matter how badly I want it to be, it’s just not very funny. The gags are pretty tired and the puns are mostly groan-worthy. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth seeing.

The story opens with Princess Vespa (Daphne Zuniga) of the planet Druidia and her arranged marriage to a narcoleptic cad of a prince whom she doesn’t love. She runs away with her robot assistant Dot Matrix (voiced by Joan Rivers) but is soon captured by the (initially) menacing Dark Helmet (Rick Moranis). Under the orders of President Skroob (Mel Brooks), he plans to save the planet Spaceball, running low on air, by stealing Druidia’s oxygen supply.

Spaceballs is a rather sluggish but occasionally funny sci-fi spoof.

The Druidian king (Dick Van Patten) hires mercenary duo Lone Starr and Barf (Bill Pullman and John Candy) to save the princess and ultimately the planet from destruction. Along the way, Lone Starr learns of a mysterious presence called “the Schwartz” as he attempts to unravel his own troubled backstory.

I admire the way Brooks and crew managed to create original, unique characters while still playing off of the major Star Wars players. The memorable characters are more thanks to the acting than the writing. Joan Rivers’ C-3PO knock-off falls pretty flat, but John Candy and Rick Moranis easily steal the show. Moranis is a perfect Dark Helmet, making the dichotomy between his menacing reputation and his stunted, dweeby appearance all the more funny. He gets the film’s best (and really only) physical comedy, which I found to be pretty brilliant. Candy, as Chewbacca substitute Barf, manages to add weight as well as humor to an underwritten role.

The production design is also pretty excellent, from the sometimes imaginative sets (a flying Winnebago rather than the Millennium Falcon) to the music (John Morris’ score is a pretty suitable substitute for John Williams’ famous tunes) to the spot-on costumes. Even in the world of a spoof, Brooks manages to create a universe all his own.

Thank goodness the acting and visuals are generally good, because the writing is not. This is Brooks’ cheesiest dialogue by a mile, and his ever-famous puns are pretty eye-rolling. The pacing of the film is painfully slow, even at an hour and a half, and the stretches that go without a joke that hits can feel interminable. Many of the references to franchises like Star Trek and Indiana Jones feel phoned in for name recognition, like they’re not even trying to get a laugh.

But there are very funny moments here. Consider Pizza the Hut, a marvelously disgusting creation, who melts and oozes cheese and pepperoni while trying to sound menacing (he only gets one scene, but it’s great). It’s incredibly absurd, but so odd that it somehow works (it probably helps that he’s voiced by Dom DeLuise). A great meta-joke involving VHS tapes gets big laughs and also doubles as a Mel Brooks film history lesson. And a clever running gag is a great commentary on the commercialization and rampant merchandising of big-budget Hollywood blockbusters.

Sadly, these great jokes are few and far in-between. The majority of Spaceballs is a bit of a slog. It’s a charming little film, and one of Brooks’ most visually appealing, but this is light years away from the acerbic, groundbreaking wit of something like The Producers. It’s worth seeing, but there’s not much here worth re-visiting a second time.

When judging the success of a franchise “midquel,” such as The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1, I ask two primary questions. Does the movie get me excited for the next film in the series? And, more importantly, does it stand on its own as a complete and compelling work? The third film in the hugely popular Hunger Games franchise answers the first question with a solid “yes.” As for the second question…kind of?

Most of the confusion comes from Lionsgate Studios’ seemingly financial impetus to split the final Hunger Games book into two parts. After the success of two-part splits in the final chapters of the Harry Potter and Twilight franchises, it’s easy to understand the desire to milk a franchise for an extra movie and an extra $800 million global gross. With Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I think the decision made some artistic sense, given that book’s formidable length. But Mockingjay is only 400 pages; does the movie adaptation make an argument for splitting the final chapter in half?

We meet Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) as she continues to be psychologically tormented by the memories of the brutal Hunger Games and the fact that her home, District 12, has been completely destroyed. But she has little time to rest, as her actions in the previous film have inspired whispers of revolution among Panem’s districts, rallying against the vindictive President Snow (Donald Sutherland). The leaders of the revolution, Alma Coin (Julianne Moore) and Plutarch Havensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman, in one of his final roles), want to use Katniss as a symbol to turn the peoples’ rebellious thoughts into actions.

But President Snow has his own weapon; Peeta Mellark, Katniss’ fellow Hunger Games survivor and possible love interest, who was kidnapped by the Capitol and is now telling the districts to lay down their arms and surrender. Has Peeta turned to the dark side, or is there something more sinister afoot?

Much of the film consists of a Public Relations war between the Capitol and the rebels, with each salvo more potent than the last. But humming under the surface is the knowledge that words will only get them so far; the revolution is certainly televised, but it must eventually go beyond that into outright war. Nonetheless, the movie does a good job of conveying the power of words and images in guiding the hearts and minds of people.

Mockingjay Part 1 is an effective sci-fi thriller, but it sometimes struggles to justify the decision to split the final book into two movies.

As most of the book’s action has been saved for part two, there is a lot of talking and crying in this movie, as various characters set up a sure-to-be-epic finale. But the movie isn’t all big breath and no plunge; there’s some real depth here. I appreciate the filmmakers’ boldness to allow the film to be boring, and I don’t mean that in a negative way. This is a slowly paced film, but it’s also shorter than its predecessors. Without worrying about completing a full story, the characters are allowed to breathe and develop with little concern for running along to the next plot point (an issue that plagued some of the earlier Harry Potter films). I appreciate how much screen time is devoted to Katniss’ mental anguish and the psychological torment of leadership.

There is also a distinct lack of Hunger Games in this Hunger Games movie, which is both good and bad. In Catching Fire, I was almost disappointed when we had to go back to the arena after getting wrapped up in the political intrigue of the districts and the ideological tug-of-war between Katniss and President Snow. Here, we get a lot more politics and a lot less sci-fi. The downside is that it makes for a pretty visually bland movie. Without any exotic game locales, we get lots of drab corridors and meeting rooms, with lighting so dim it can sometimes be difficult to see what’s going on. Even the few outdoor scenes have a drab, generic, gray dystopia tone to them, a tired visual aesthetic that Catching Fire wisely avoided.

The movie does feature two major actions set pieces, and they are both excellent. They feel much more realistic and grounded in reality than anything in the arena, and are that much more exciting for it. A tactical espionage rescue effort near the end could have come straight out of a Mission Impossible film.

The standout feature here is the caliber of the acting, which helps to atone for the movie’s sometimes slack pacing and drab cinematography. Jennifer Lawrence has several scenes of quiet anguish that are flat-out brilliant, especially when contrasted with the tightly controlled and manipulated performance she is asked to give for the rebels’ camera. Her ability to show a strange combination of fear, anger and sadness, even without dialogue, is truly remarkable. It’s a performance I can’t praise highly enough. The late Philip Seymour Hoffman, in one of his last roles, shows us what made him so brilliant. When he smiles, we don’t necessarily see happiness, but rather a layer of emotions we can’t quite figure out. His Plutarch is playful yet righteous, determined yet willing to have fun in the process. It’s a complex performance befitting one of the book’s strongest characters. And Josh Hutcherson, as Peeta, is brilliant; I think there was a lot to criticize in his performance in the original Hunger Games, but here he is asked to plumb the dark depths of Peeta’s deepest fears. It’s a performance so good it made me appreciate and connect with the character in a way the books never did. We also get a bit more depth from Finnick Odair (Sam Clalflin, also perfectly cast).

Alas, the unfinished nature of the story leaves several characters with little to do (at least until the next film). Effie Trinket (Elizabeth Banks) returns, as does a now-sober Haymitch (Woody Harrelson), but, while these two were a major highlight of the previous films, they’re now reduced to small parts that almost constitute walk-on roles. Julianne Moore gets very little meat as rebel President Coin; much of her screen time is devoted to giving a series of speeches and looking flustered. Plutarch’s crack PR camera team introduces us to new characters, including film director Cressida (Natalie Dormer), but they seem like little more than background props. And, no matter how hard Liam Hemsworth tries, hunky love interest Gale will always be as bland as Wheat Thins.

This is where I come to a bit of an impasse regarding Mockingjay: Part 1. In a way, it’s supposed to feel like half a movie—that’s what will get you coming back to the theater for part two. But it still feels like a lot of setup for a finale that hasn’t yet arrived, and it leaves some characters in the lurch as they wait around to do something interesting in the next movie. I expect, much like with the final two Harry Potter films, part one will find greater appreciation when it stands alongside its companion film. But the filmmakers are asking us to see it as one movie, so we must engage it as such. I can’t help but think that one three (or even three and a half) hour Mockingjay movie would have been excellent. But, for half a movie, part 1 is still thought-provoking and occasionally thrilling sci-fi filmmaking.