Here’s a clever indie comedy, maybe a bit too clever for its own good, dealing with an utterly dysfunctional bromance. “The Climb” is directed in a highly stylized fashion by Michael Angelo Covino, who also co-wrote the screenplay and stars alongside Kyle Marvin.

In late 2019, director Thom Zimny was summoned by Springsteen to document the recording of the singer-songwriter’s reunion album with the E-Street Band, their first in over 10 years. They also hadn’t recorded an album this way, as a unit in the studio, since 1984’s “Born in the U.S.A.” Suffice to say, three cameramen were brought in to document the affair and the result is essential rock and roll cinema.

Writing a review for a movie such as “Run,” much like anything by Alfred Hitchcock, is risky, as you walk that fine line between revealing too little or revealing too much of the plot. I’ve decided to find some kind of middle ground, because, be warned, you should go in with as little knowledge of the plot as possible.

“On the Rocks” is a minor work from Sofia Coppola, but one filled with a few rewarding pleasures. Starring Bill Murray, re-teaming with Coppola for the first time since 2003’s immaculate “Lost in Translation,” a turning point for both actor and director, this latest work from them is what you would classify as an agreeable diversion.

How many highly-skilled-assassin-movies have been released since Liam Neeson threatened a villain on the phone with his “special set of skills” in 2008’s “Taken”? An endless, and unsurmountable amount, that’s how many. The genre has spawned countless rehashes, both good (“John Wick”) and bad (“Hitman”). Tate Taylor’s “Ava” belongs with the latter, despite it starring Jessica Chastain as a killing machine with a dark past who gets targeted for elimination by the very organization she is a part of. Sounds familiar? “Ava” adds very little to a genre that badly needed to be shaken up. Taylor’s attempt at giving Chastain her own Taken-esque franchise falls flat by playing like a greatest hits package of the better movies before it, instead of something fresh and riveting.

“The Nest,” director Sean Durkin’s follow-up to his acclaimed 2011 feature “Martha Marcy May Marlene” premiered at Sundance in January to, mostly, positive reviews. I was told it would be part of Cannes’ Un Certain regard selection. Alas, that film festival was canceled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

For 128 minutes, Vanessa Kirby has you hooked to her every move in Kornel Mundruczo’s “Pieces of a Woman.” As Martha, a high-powered executive who loses her child during a harrowing home birth, Kirby mesmerizes by showcasing the human frailty and devastation that happens when tragedy comes knocking at the door. Kirby’s acting tour-de-force reminded me of Gena Rowlands’ masterful work in John Cassavetes’ 1974 classic, “Woman Under the Influence.”

Director Antonio Campos’ “The Devil All The Time”, a sprawling mosaic of religion, family, and DNA, is what one could describe as an “Appalachian noir.” It’s a tale filled with gougers, murderers, and losers — nobody wins in Campos’ weighty film and, set in an America on the brink of change, maybe that’s the point.

“Mulan” the glossy live-action Disney remake of the 1998 animated film is disastrous from start to finish.

Almost 30 years later, in “Bill & Ted Face the Music,” our stoners are going through couples therapy with their wives (Jayma Mays and Erinn Hayes), and are still jobless, seeking to find their next hit by playing at dives such as the Elk Lodge during $2 taco night (most of the attendees are there for the tacos).

Christopher Nolan has somehow managed to make a movie that makes his 2010 mindfuck “Inception” look easy to follow. In “Tenet,” which very much feels like Inception-on-steroids, the ubiquitous writer-director doesn’t necessarily cut down on the exposition, but still manages to give us his most complicated and confusing movie to date. I, quite honestly, had no idea what was going on in some scenes. It’s a film that doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath or think things through; it hammers you to a pulp, with its 153 minutes a relentless assault on the senses.