The future of planet Earth is bleak if Oblivion is any indication, and that’s not a reference to the desolate post-apocalyptic vision it depicts.

This visually ambitious but dramatically inert science-fiction adventure is an unfortunate exercise in style over substance, where dazzling set pieces and special effects are compromised by a screenplay that feels right off the genre assembly line.

Tom Cruise stars in the story set in 2077, after a nuclear war with an alien race has destroyed the Earth’s moon and left the planet itself almost uninhabitable, with most of the remaining human population having fled to remote space stations.

Cruise plays Jack, a drone technician haunted by nightmares whose work is vital to re-establishing human life on the planet. His mission with his partner (Andrea Riseborough) is almost finished when Jack happens upon the ruins of a crashed spacecraft and finds a survivor (Olga Kurylenko) who holds the key to multiple secrets about his existence.

Director Joseph Kosinski (Tron: Legacy) helped to adapt the script from his own unpublished graphic novel of the same name. Working with Oscar-winning cinematographer Claudio Miranda (Life of Pi), he creates an imaginative futuristic world and seamlessly blends computer-generated effects into a realistic dystopian vision.

Much of the first half of the film features Cruise essentially acting alone, with the help of a cool motorcycle and even cooler winged spaceship that he navigates over dilapidated American landmarks and through the tightest of spaces. After a pair of plot twists foreshadowed to various degrees, that video-game mentality segues into a more human story of survival and reconciliation.

The main problem with the self-indulgent screenplay, however, is that its ideas never come together to develop any kind of rooting interest. The quieter, more emotionally complex moments seem to clash with the high-concept action scenes aimed squarely at action fans, lest viewers forget that this is a big-budget vehicle for Cruise, after all.

In the third act, motives and loyalties get twisted around so frequently that it becomes difficult to keep track of what anyone is fighting for in the first place.

Oblivion borrows a few concepts from some predecessors in the sci-fi realm, yet manages to carve out a unique premise and setting, with plenty of technical pizzazz. Yet the difficulty comes in having the courage to follow through on its narrative convictions.

Rated PG-13, 125 minutes.

Jackie Robinson is one of the most heroic and inspirational figures not just in baseball, but in all of sports. He essentially broke the color barrier in baseball during the 1940s, paving the way for countless athletes of today.

The glossy biopic 42 — which is named for Robinson’s number that has since been retired by all Major League Baseball teams in honor of his legacy — should introduce a new generation of youngsters to a player who they might know by name, but not through his struggle.

Yet those benefits are compromised in this formulaic crowd-pleaser that waters down much of Robinson’s remarkable story. In baseball terms, it swings and misses.

The film focuses primarily on the groundbreaking rookie season for Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947, a year after the young superstar from the Negro Leagues is signed by innovative team executive Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford).

So the infielder becomes the first black player in the National League during a time when baseball was still deeply segregated. He has great talent, but also a short temper that makes it difficult for him not to retaliate against the racist taunts he experiences from fans, opponents, and even teammates.

Ultimately, it’s a story not only about acceptance and determination, but about the power of perception, and Rickey is a savvy businessman who understands that. Their partnership is mutually beneficial.

The approach of director Brian Helgeland (A Knight’s Tale), who also wrote the screenplay, is slick and straightforward from the start. He places too much emphasis on cheap sentimentality while his characters generally lack depth.

Baseball aficionados might get a nostalgic kick from seeing former Dodgers greats from the time, as well as the classic jerseys and ballpark re-creations.

Boseman’s nicely understated performance as Robinson demonstrates a charisma and screen presence that make him an actor to watch. He’s also physically convincing. Ford, meanwhile, effectively captures Rickey’s mannerisms while growling out pearls of wisdom and dismissing naysayers. Helgeland is smart enough to realize that Rickey is a fascinating figure as well, and more than just a glorified sidekick.

The film has its share of powerful moments, which come with the territory. And it could be argued that even this shallow treatment gets the point across. However, considering the accomplishments of its subject both on and off the field, Robinson deserved better than standard-issue Hollywood hagiography.

Rated PG-13, 128 minutes.

By the standards of acclaimed filmmaker Terrance Malick, To the Wonder is a modest achievement. Its ambitions might be slight, but its impact is more than slightly powerful.

Some might find amusement in the recent prolific streak of the notoriously reclusive filmmaker, who made just four films in a 32-year span before 2005, but has completed five films since, including two more still due for release.

At any rate, Malick’s latest film is a muddled but evocative romantic drama about choices and consequences, and how they threaten to tear apart a relationship.

The film opens in France, where American tourist Neil (Ben Affleck) falls deeply in love with Marina (Olga Kurylenko), a Ukrainian divorcee who he later brings to the United States to settle down in Oklahoma.

Amid culture clashes and language barriers, the intention is to get married and raise a family. However, complications ensue when Neil begins seeing an ex-girlfriend (Rachel McAdams), causing Marina to seek comfort with a priest (Javier Bardem) dealing with a crisis of faith.

To the Wonder is deeply spiritual and morally complex examination of relationships and love unrequited that is more optimistic than cynical.

The film’s approach is atmospheric and contemplative, as it conveys ideas more through mood and imagery than dialogue. In fact, the bulk of the lines in the film are part of the heavy-handed narration, which shifts point of view between three of the four characters (something that remains unexplained).

Malick (The Tree of Life) is a visual artist, of course, and here he keeps the camera moving and favors close-ups and exterior montages. He beautifully captures landscapes both big and small, working with frequent collaborators such as cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki and production designer Jack Fisk.

The result emphasizes the quiet details in each scene, as well as the eccentric periphery characters that define small-town Americana. However, the main characters keep a frustrating emotional distance in the process, meaning that while the audience can see their passion, it rarely feels it.

Malick takes the stance of a hopeless romantic with an effort that resembles a side project between his high-concept epics. Yet even when he deals with familiar themes such as lust, infidelity and reconciliation, he does so from a fresh perspective that is far outside the mainstream. These days, that’s practically an achievement in itself.

Rated R, 112 minutes.

Antiviral

This low-budget medical thriller marks the directorial debut of Brandon Cronenberg, and is bound to draw comparisons — perhaps unfairly — to the early work of his father, David. There are some stylistic similarities, but the film stands on its own as a modestly chilling and suspenseful look at pharmaceutical experimentation through the story of a clinic employee (Caleb Landry Jones) who must fight for survival after being injected with a virus that killed a celebrity starlet (Sarah Gadon). The script is thin but effectively creepy as it examines contemporary pop culture obsessions while maximizing the queasy close-ups of needles, blood and medical procedures. (Not rated, 108 minutes).

Disconnect

A first-rate cast can’t rescue this earnest yet uneven melodrama from director Henry-Alex Rubin (Murderball) that weaves together three cautionary tales about how technology impacts relationships. It explores topics such as bullying, media ethics, identity theft, contemporary parenting, infidelity and pornography through stories about the perils of online chat rooms, social media and computer addiction. There are some powerful moments, and the film remains edgy and compelling for about an hour before its interlocking structure becomes more constricting and heavy-handed. The result is not as insightful or provocative as intended. The ensemble cast includes Jason Bateman, Hope Davis, Alexander Skarsgard, Max Thieriot and Paula Patton. (Rated R, 115 minutes).

It’s a Disaster

The title does not describe the quality of this low-budget dark comedy about four suburban couples who meet for a Sunday brunch, only to discover that a sudden attack nearby might have apocalyptic consequences, causing each of them to re-examine their relationships. It’s a thin concept (with only one setting) that might work better on stage, but the script by director Todd Berger (The Scenesters) is witty and subversive as it satirizes fear and paranoia. While the sitcom premise becomes wobbly through the second half, an ensemble cast including David Cross, Julia Stiles and America Ferrera generates some big laughs from the most absurd circumstances. (Rated R, 85 minutes).

Five friends in their 20s decide to spend a weekend at a remote cabin in the woods, where they joke about a book of satanic writings they find. There’s no phone service, no method of escape and no reason for any of them to think anything could go wrong.

Such a premise seemed fresh more than 30 years ago, when the The Evil Dead shocked moviegoers. But these days, the setup feels right off the assembly line.

That’s the predicament of the ultraviolent remake of Evil Dead, which strips away the tongue-in-cheek satire of its predecessor and settles for modern genre pandering aimed at fans of death, dismemberment, and unbelievable amounts of gore.

The claustrophobic setting and stereotypical characters lead into the story of Mia (Jane Levy), who becomes lost in the woods outside the cabin, and later possessed by the evil spirit of a woman with a tragic past. Mia wanders back to join her buddies in the cabin, and the countdown to carnage begins, although the line between dead and alive is blurred by the transfer of demons between bodies and whatnot.

The original Evil Dead movie trilogy, of course, launched the career of director Sam Raimi (Spider-Man) and became a cult favorite for its gritty and subversive take on horror cliches.

This time around, the script by rookie Uruguayan director Fede Alvarez and his writing partner, Rodo Sayagues, tries a different approach with the same material, indulging in those same cliches while emphasizing the blood and guts. Perhaps that renders the remake a product of the times, but it’s also worse off for taking itself too seriously.

The bigger budget makes the new Evil Dead more visually polished, which doesn’t necessarily equate to more frightening. It’s occasionally creepy and ominous, but most often is more disgusting than scary. And the only laughs come from a recurring gag involving duct tape.

There are some stylish depictions of death and torture, and a harrowing final showdown that almost makes the whole thing worthwhile.

Yet for the most part, Evil Dead relies on familiar scare tactics, such as technical trickery, piercing music and people jumping out of the shadows. The new film pays tribute to its source material in the closing credits, issuing an unintentional reminder of how superior it was.

Rated R, 91 minutes.

Sometimes it’s nice to see the psychology put back in the psychological thriller. Such is the case with Trance, a mind-bending crime saga from Oscar-winning director Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire) that offers rewards for both the eyes and the brain.

It’s a film that blurs several lines — including those between fantasy and reality, heroes and villains, and fact and fiction — and does so in a way that puts a fresh and compelling spin on contemporary film noir and heist pictures.

The story opens with a robbery of a posh London art sale, in which Simon (James McAvoy) is an auctioneer who hides a valuable Goya painting during the heist, only to later forget where it’s been placed after being struck on the head by ruthless gang leader Franck (Vincent Cassel) after a suspected double-crossing.

After the two reach a stalemate over the whereabouts of the purloined artwork, they mutually contact Elizabeth (Rosario Dawson), a sultry hypnotherapist who seduces both men with motives that at first are unclear. While she tries to hypnotize Simon into remembering where he placed the valuable painting, she more subtly attempts to manipulate Simon and Franck for her own gain.

For Boyle, Trance seems like a bigger-budget throwback of sorts to the gritty thrillers from his early days, such as Shallow Grave and Trainspotting. It also marks the fifth collaboration between Boyle and the screenwriter of those films, John Hodge, who adapted the screenplay along with Joe Ahearne, who wrote the original 2001 British television movie upon which the film is based.

The versatile director gives the film a vibrant and polished look, thanks in part to frequent Boyle collaborators including cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, costume designer Suttirat Anne Larlarb and editor Jon Harris.

All three leads offer complex performances as their characters shift loyalties and generate various degrees of audience sympathy.

While the script isn’t especially clever or provocative in its examination of dreams and memories, it offers a few nifty twists and trippy conspiracy theories.

Trance manages to smooth over its gimmicks and rough patches with an excess of style and suspense that renders its central mystery almost irrelevant, yet somehow enhances its entertainment value.

Rated R, 101 minutes.

As he ages well into his 70s, Robert Redford might have lost a step or two physically, but his aptitude on both sides of the camera is still as sharp as ever.

That doesn’t mean The Company You Keep is Redford’s finest film, because it’s far from that. But as an actor and director, Redford proves that he’s still capable of making the sort of provocative political thrillers that would make a younger generation envious.

His latest film, which boasts a deep ensemble cast, romanticizes political idealism and organized protest, and explores the concept of being forced to reconcile past sins when you least expect it.

Redford plays Jim Grant, a respected lawyer in upstate New York who is targeted by local investigative reporter Ben (Shia LeBeouf) for his suspected connection to a fugitive (Susan Sarandon) who turned herself into police for a bank robbery from four decades earlier.

As it turns out, the woman was a member of the Weather Underground, the famed radical antiwar collective whose members remain alive and scattered throughout the country. Ben eventually exposes Jim as a co-conspirator living under an alias, leading to a chain reaction that puts everyone on the run. Jim tries to alert his colleagues as the authorities start to close in, and Ben tries to accumulate facts to stay ahead of the story.

More straightforward than stimulating, The Company You Keep turns into a chase movie in its second half, deliberately paced by contemporary standards perhaps because of the age of its protagonists. Or maybe it’s because Redford would rather deal in characters rather than pile on visual gimmicks and special effects.

The sharp performances help to smooth out the rough edges, with a cast that includes Julie Christie, Nick Nolte, Richard Jenkins, Brendan Gleeson, Stanley Tucci, Anna Kendrick, Brit Marling, Terrence Howard, Chris Cooper and Sam Elliott.

The screenplay by Lem Dobbs (Haywire) seems like a routine cat-and-mouse drama on the surface, but it’s more complicated than that. While it’s convincing enough to be mildly suspenseful, the film grows far-fetched and embellishes its depiction of contemporary journalists and lawyers alike.

In its hypothetical connection between past and present, the film provides a unique political perspective that also offers an intriguing comparison with some of Redford’s earlier works. But most of all, it’s a savvy thriller that stays a step ahead of expectations.

Rated R, 121 minutes.

The Brass Teapot

This oddball dark comedy might have made an amusing short film, but its one-note concept wears thin at feature length. It’s based on an idea from a comic-book series about Alice (Juno Temple) and John (Michael Angarano), who steals a teapot from an antique store, later realizing it has magical powers to make them rich. The discovery leads to a moral dilemma for the young married couple, and also makes them the target of thugs willing to go to great lengths to possess their treasure. The film generates some solid laughs during the first act, then crumbles into a heavy-handed final act that feels desperate. (Rated R, 101 minutes).

My Brother the Devil

This evocative, low-budget coming-of-age drama marks a sharp debut for British filmmaker Sally El Hosaini. It takes place on the rough streets of London and centers on a family of Egyptian immigrants, in which Mo (Fady Elsayed) is a teenager who wants to follow in the footsteps of his older brother Rashid (James Floyd), a notorious gangster, when their loyalty is tested. The script bogs down slightly in contrivances and the performances are uneven, but there’s a gritty authenticity to the tough-guy characters and gang-infested setting. The film takes an insightful look at subtle cultural and socioeconomic differences, as well as similarities, during troubled economic times. (Not rated, 111 minutes).

No Place on Earth

A powerful true-life story gets a rather pedestrian treatment in this compelling documentary about a New York spelunker who discovers markings on the inside wall of a Ukrainian cave, then traces them to a large Jewish family who remarkably hid underground for more than a year as a method of survival during the Holocaust. The film’s narration is provided by interviews with family members who describe their harrowing ordeal firsthand, combined with wartime re-enactment sequences. It’s a heroic story of World War II sacrifice and perseverance in which director Janet Tobias manipulates the narrative structure in order to maximize the sentimental impact. (Rated PG-13, 83 minutes).

Six Souls

Julianne Moore cashes in a small segment of her reputation in the starring role of this overwrought psychological thriller, playing Cara, a widowed forensic psychiatrist assigned by her father (Jeffrey DeMunn) to interview Adam (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), a patient with multiple personalities (and accents to match). As she begins to uncover Adam’s dark side, she realizes her involvement in the case might put her own family in danger. The movie is visually sharp, but even these talented actors can’t rescue a script that throws logic out the window in favor of a series of plot twists that instead of suspenseful become almost laughably ridiculous. (Rated R, 112 minutes).

Upstream Color

Almost a decade after making a splash with the mind-bending Primer, writer-director Shane Carruth returns with another atmospheric low-budget science-fiction drama that also will leave plenty of viewers scratching their heads — in a good way. It follows the relationship between Jeff (Carruth) and Kris (Amy Seimetz), two mysterious loners whose paths cross after being subject to some sort of genetic experimentation. A challenging work that is not conventionally entertaining, it’s sometimes frustrating and perhaps intentionally obtuse (and it certainly defies mainstream conventions), but Carruth’s experimental style has a certain level of artistry, and the film contains enough ambitious ideas to make it worthwhile. (Not rated, 96 minutes).

Fans expecting another entry in the Twilight series might be surprised by The Host, the latest big-screen adaptation of a Stephanie Meyer novel, and the first such film not dealing with brooding teenage vampires.

This story from Meyer is more mature, dealing with an alien abduction plot in a way that’s more cerebral and contemplative than might be expected by those on either Team Edward or Team Jacob.

However, while it presents a mildly provocative scenario of contemporary alien possession, its intriguing concepts don’t seem to have the same emotional impact on screen that they do on the printed page.

The story takes place in a world where parasitic aliens have almost wiped out the human race through the use of possession and mind control. One of the last surviving humans is Melanie (Saoirse Ronan), whose body is taken over by the Wanderer, a soul that inhabits her mind and tries to infiltrate her memories.

That’s when Melanie begins to fight back, convincing the unseen Wanderer to help her reunite with her loved ones — a group of holdouts led by her grizzled father (William Hurt) — amid this clash of humans and souls, Seekers and Healers.

The screenplay by director Andrew Niccol (In Time) is forced to juggle several tricky narrative elements, including an awkward internal dialogue between Melanie and the Wanderer, as well as a series of flashbacks that becomes tedious.

The film shifts from a character-driven science-fiction drama to more of a combination road movie and chase picture. At least Niccol is a genre veteran who brings visual flair to the material, with help from some sleek costumes and scenic desert landscapes.

The versatile Ronan (Atonement) brings depth to a complex performance as the courageous and resourceful hero, even if her character ultimately is more bland than charismatic.

The film is deliberately paced, especially in the first hour, and winds up more pretentious and melodramatic than thought-provoking. The result is edgy on the surface but a cheesy love story at its core, complete with longing glances and music swells.

The Host deals with familiar themes of compassion, faith and reconciliation, and contains plenty of metaphysical mumbo-jumbo that doesn’t provide the same thrill for the brain that the film’s shiny chrome cars do for the eyes.

Rated PG-13, 125 minutes.