“Mother Mary” gets some points for the singular vision of writer/director David Lowery, striking images, and game performances by the supremely talented Anne Hathaway and Michaela Coel, but not as many as it needs to overcome its pretentiousness, its pointlessness, and, worst of all, its ultimate emptiness. It wants so badly to be provocative and artistic but it is just boring.

Hathaway plays the title character, a hugely successful pop star along the lines of Lady Gaga, Madonna, and Chappell Roan. We see her performing in gigantic arenas, with fans overcome with joy, waving lit up cellphones. Mother Mary performs in stunning costumes, with headpieces that recall the literally iconic images of Medieval saints. Those scenes are strikingly filmed and Hathaway looks sensational and her singing is fully believable as pop star. The original songs are co-written by Jack Antonoff, Charli xcx, FKA twigs, and Hathaway.  

On a dark and stormy night (the first tired trope of many), Mother Mary arrives at the shabby chic ancient-castle-like atelier of a successful fashion designer named Sam Anselm (Coel). Despite the protests of Sam’s assistant, Hilda (Hunter Schafer), the rain-bedraggled Mary insists on seeing Sam, and pushes ahead, to tell Sam, “I need a dress.”

We can see that they have a history, and some of it will be revealed over the course of what is essentially the two of them verbally sparring for the rest of the film, one of those screenplays where every line is supposed to have a deeper meaning conveyed by the way it is delivered rather than by the words that are said. This means references to walls and doors that even the characters can’t decide whether they are literal or metaphor. The metaphors , including measuring Mary, some self-injury, and something between a ghost and a demonic possession are heavy-handed and not as meaningful as they intend to be. Either way, it’s more whiny than illuminating.

The posters say, “This is not a ghost story. This is not a love story.” But it is both, or at least trying to be. There are hints that the relationship between Mary and Sam may have been romantic. It was certainly an extremely close connection, as they worked together in the early days to create the Mother Mary persona. Sam was abandoned, and given no credit for her contributions.

Mary and Sam go back and forth, their conversation shifts from brittle jibes, with Sam insisting on a better quality of apology, and hopelessness, with Mary unable to say anything more about the dress she rejected other than “it isn’t me.” She cannot say what “me” is or should be. Sam tells Mary to perform the song she plans to perform in the dress she is asking for — without the music. Hathaway throws herself into this silent performance and throws herself around a bit, too.

It gets more theatrical, a flashback scene taking place through the doorway of the very iG-friendly barn-like atelier. The production and sound design deserve special note, with the crispness of the sewing shears and the tactile fabrics making a strong impression. But when paranormal themes come in, the storyline becomes as bedraggled as the storm-tossed title character.

Parents should know that this movie includes disturbing material, including graphic wounds, some self-inflicted. There are tense emotional confrontations with strong language and references to abusive behavior and a scary seance. A character takes pills.

Family discussion: Does Mother Mary remind you of any real-life pop stars? Why did she abandon Sam? Why did she come back? Should Sam accept her apology?

If you like this, try: “Vox Lux” and concert films/documentaries from Selena Gomez, Madonna, Billie Eilish, and Taylor Swift

To understand what kind of movie this is, you need to know that most, but not all, of Michael Jackson’s siblings and most, but not all, of his children were producers. His lawyer, John Branca, also produced and is played by Miles Teller.

Janet Jackson, Michael’s sister and a musical superstar of almost equal prominence, who did not produce, is erased from the story. So his non-superstar sister Rebbie. So is any possible fault or flaw in the title character, and any effort to give the rest of the characters any depth or personality. What it does find time for is way too many scenes of ecstatic fans at concerts and Michael visiting sick children. The movie has its entertaining moments, mostly when Jaafar Jackson replicates some of his uncle’s most iconic performances, but the dramatic sections are weak and sanitized.

The late self-titled “King of Pop” is played by his real-life nephew, Jermaine Jackson’s son, Jaafar., who evokes the memory of his uncle with his look (before and after nose job) and moves. Colman Domingo is powerfully crafty and brutal as Joseph Jackson, the cruel factory worker who was determined to make his children his ticket out of Gary, Indiana, and did not hesitate to pull out his belt to whip them if he felt they were not paying him enough respect. Nia Long is warm and empathetic as Katherine Jackson, whose quiet support for Michael gives him something to hold onto and whose mild protests get less mild after Michael’s success.

A stand-out here is Juliano Valdi as young Michael Jackson, both in his ability to show us the then 10-year-old (but claiming to be 8) as an already-electrifying performer. (I well remember how dazzling my sisters and I were by the Jackson 5’s first national television appearance, introduced by Diana Ross.)

The Michael of this film is a 20th century Peter Pan and we are constantly reminded of how he identified with that character, writing his father’s name next to a depiction of Captain Hook. He is portrayed here as a gentle, almost angelic, innocent who considers his pets (including a giraffe, a llama, and Bubbles the chimp) as his only friends and who loves to be swept away by classic old films. His bodyguard, Bill (KeiLyn Durrel Jones) is sympathetic. But he seems to have no relationship with anyone in his family except his mother, and in the most simplistic and superficial terms the movie suggests that the only issue is learning how to stand up to his father. We learn little about what inspires his music and what performing means to him. There’s nothing here about “We Are the World” and the controversies over his marriage, his children, his mutilating surgeries, and the allegations of abuse.

The question you have to ask yourself about a musical biography is whether it has something to say beyond what we get from watching archival footage of the subject. The answer here is no. Weirdly, we see Michael tell director John Landis to shoot the dance in the “Thriller” music video the way Fred Astaire insisted his dance numbers should be shot: a steady camera showing the full bodies of the dancers, but the dance numbers here do not follow that good advice. They are dynamic but they cut away from what we want to see.

And the portrayals are paper-thin. We do not learn anything about Michael’s relationship to his siblings, what any human friendships he had were like, or what inspired his music. The movie is clear about Joseph’s exploitation of Michael, trying to control him to continue to do what is best for the family (meaning money and attention for Joseph), with no commitment or even recognition of what might be best for Michael. Joseph wants him to continue to perform with the family, making solo music only on his off hours. We are supposed to cheer for Michael when he gets a lawyer to stand up to Joseph and then stands up for himself. But it is hard to see this film as anything but continuing the family’s efforts to make money from Michael’s talent. At the end we wonder whether he would see this as just another attempt to profit from his legacy.

Parents should know that this film includes child abuse, smoking, body dysmorphia, and a scary accident when Jackson is badly burned. He also visits very sick children and patients.

Family discussion: Is this a fair representation of Michael Jackson? What more do you want to know? Why was he so beloved?

If you like this, try: “The Jacksons: An American Dream,” “This is It,” “The Jacksons: Road to Victory,” and clips of Michael Jackson singing and dancing

There are three problems in trying to make a documentary about Lorne Michaels, who created and continues to run “Saturday Night Live” (except for five years) now for more than half a century. The first is the many, many documentaries already made about the show and the people who have appeared on it, including Steve Martin, John Belushi, Chris Farley, so this latest one is a small addition to a big jigsaw puzzle. It goes over events that have been thoroughly covered elsewhere, with some new archival material, like Michaels’ brief appearances as a performer himself in Canada when he was in his 20s and from a brief substitute for “SNL” that lasted less than a dozen years.

Second, Lorne Michaels really did not want to have a documentary made about him. As his close friend Paul Simon says to director Morgan Neville in the film, “You’ll capture a guy who is not happy.” So the movie is not about guy who is not happy, but about a guy who isn’t happy to have a cameras on him. Michaels likes his life, his job, and especially his home and family very much and he is, as anyone in that job would have to be, very even-tempered.

Third, because he is so even-tempered, and often downright dull, he is not a dynamic film presence, and because his job is “SNL” that is a gigantic contrast with EVERYONE ELSE on screen. Neville tries to jazz it up a bit with some animated segments, but we have to keep coming back to Michaels, who is not introspective beyond saying how much he loves nature or analytic about what does and does not work in the show (we see him re-arrange the order of the sketches but we don’t know anything about why).

I’ve watched “SNL” since the very first episode and have stuck with it through all of the ups and downs that are documented or in many cases glossed over quickly or ignored entirely in this film. I’m enough of a fan that I enjoyed it, though it is in no way an indispensable or particularly valuable addition to the record. Any serious fan has seen plenty about the early days, the “is ‘SNL’ past its prime” headlines the rocketing unknown-to-megawatt star trajectories (Eddie Murphy) and the “wait, what’s that one’s name again” cast members, plus the firing of Norm MacDonald (here’s a great take with David Letterman).

One benefit of surrounding himself with some of the most brilliant impressionists and comedians in the world is that most of them have a take on Michaels’ slightly stentorian delivery (and on his disappointed sigh). It is a lot of fun to hear so many of them almost subconsciously slip into his voice. And it’s a lot of fun just to hear them talk about him, his quirks (the entire schedule is built around his preferring to start the day at 4 pm and he is constantly munching on popcorn). The best moments are just listening in on a conversation with comedy legends John Mulaney, Bill Hader, and Fred Armisen, or the comments from Conan O’Brien, writer Jim Downey (see the documentary about him), and Paul Simon. Mulaney, hyper-perceptive as always, tells the film’s most illuminating story.

We know, as we watch the archival footage, how many of those people have died. But there’s hardly any sense of how those losses affected him. We hear about the pressure to revitalize the show, but not what steps he took. Instead we hear him fretting about whether host Ryan Gosling has a doctor for his raspy throat. The other documentaries, the books about “SNL,” or any given episode of the show will tell you as much and be more entertaining.

Parents should know that this film has references to drinking and drug use.

Family discussion: What are some of your favorite “SNL” sketches and stars and why?

If you like this, try: the four documentaries celebrating the show’s 50th anniversary, especially the one from Questlove about the music.

According to a study I read recently, art collectors who spend a significant amount of money tend to fall into distinct categories. Some by for investment, as though the art is a more decorative stock portfolio. Some buy for personal branding: “See, I must be rich and important because I have a Picasso!” Some buy because they feel an emotional connection to the work or because they like to support and interact with artists. And of course there is some overlap in those categories; people don’t spend hundreds of thousands of dollars or more for just one reason.

But when it comes to why artists create art, there are not so many categories. The few who do it for acclaim and money is a smaller group than those who actually achieve it in their lifetimes. Anyone who’s ever taken an art history course knows that Van Gogh never sold a painting and that some artists who were successful when they were alive are no longer considered significant or original. There is only one reason to make art, and that is that you can’t not do it. It is foundational to the artist’s character and purpose.

Thus, there is an impossible gulf between the person who creates art and the person who buys it. That is one of the key conflicts explored in “The Christophers,” an excellent film from two of the best, screenwriter Ed Solomon (“Men in Black,” “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”) and director Steven Soderbergh (“Erin Brockovich,” “Oceans 11,” “Out of Sight,” “Traffic”) that is an unmistakable work of art itself.

We know Lori (Michaela Coel) is an artist from the first shot of the film. And we know she is not making any money a moment later when she leaves the plein air drawing she is working on to take an order from a customer at a food truck. Then she gets a call from Sallie (Jessica Gunning), a former art school classmate, with an offer. Sallie and her brother Barnaby (James Corden) are the estranged children of a famous artist, Julian Sklar (Ian McKellen). They want to pay Lori to complete, i.e., forge their father’s paintings so they can sell them as his after he dies.

Julian was once very active and acclaimed. But just after his most famous work, a series of portraits called The Christophers, he stopped painting and spent the next decades as a celebrity, something of an enfant terrible. He is known for biting, Simon Cowell-like disdain for young artists as a judge on a reality show competition. When we first see him, he is recording Cameo videos (upcharge if you want to see him mime his signature).

Lori, who has been working as an art restorer, turns down the offer from Sallie and Barnaby. But as the apothecary in “Romeo and Juliet” says, “My poverty, but not my will, consents.” She agrees, and goes to work for Julian as his assistant.

Their conversations, or, rather, verbal parrying, are pure delight, so smart and sharp. Lori learns about where the Christopher series came from and why Julian never completed the second set of portraits. Julian remembers what it is like to talk to someone who speaks his language. McKellan and Coel have a crackling chemistry and play off each other, his dancing around, deflecting, his trying to be shocking, her steady intelligence. And it reflects a very deep understanding of the world of art, the people who create it, struggling to realize their visions — to capture them, in both senses of the word, as well as the complexities of maneuvering the world of critics, gallery owners, and wealthy collectors. In its way, the film itself is a work of art, and one that honors the true spririt of the artist.

Parents should know that this film includes constant very strong and crude language, alcohol, a sad death, and sexual references.

Family discussion: What did Lori and Julian have in common and what made them realize that? What kind of art do you like and why?

If you like this, try: “The Square,” “The Burnt Orange Heresy,” “Untitled,” and the documentary “Made You Look”

Love is the great human adventure but it is also the great human conundrum, which is why it drives us crazy. And also by there are so many stories, songs, paintings, novels, and theories about it. We all want it. And we are all terrified about being vulnerable enough to accept it, knowing we might come to depend on it and then lose it. And that presents itself in the core conflict. We want to be loved, which means being known. But if we allow ourselves to be known, we understand that we might scare off the very person we most want to love us. That is the precipice of intimacy that is very seldom . And that is the subject of “The Drama,” which has the courage to take on this conflict. It just doesn’t do a very good job. It’s non-stop cringe.

It’s also the kind of movie actors like to be in because it presents them with some very intriguing acting challenges, and if you can handle the cringe, you will appreciate the performances. They are as excellent as we would expect from four of the best young actors working today.

The movie begins with a close-up of a very pretty ear. It belongs to Emma (Zendaya), who is reading a novel in a coffee shop. She has an earbud in the other ear. Charlie (Robert Pattinson) wants to find a way to talk to her, so he quickly looks up her book on GoodReads so he can pretend he read it. She does not respond. He thinks he’s blown it. But she did not hear him. She is deaf in that other ear. She encourages him to try again. And she forgives him on their first date when he has to confess that he never read the book.

That’s a flashback. In the movie’s present time, it is just a couple of days before their wedding and they are working on the speeches they will make after the ceremony, explaining what they love most about each other. Charlie is getting some help from his best man, Mike (Mamoudou Athie). Everything seems all set for happily ever after.

But then, at a tasting dinner with Mike and his wife, Rachel (Alaina Haim), who is Emma’s maid of honor, they all get a little tipsy (“This isn’t a bar,” the caterer mutters), and everyone makes the first of a series of excruciatingly painful mistakes. They decide they should each tell the story of the worst thing they ever did. And Emma’s is so shocking to the other three that it shatters their understanding of their relationship. Charlie starts to panic. He pesters Emma with questions, not trying so much to understand as he is to find a way to feel better about making a lifetime commitment. There’s a certain amount of projectile vomiting. And some more mistakes that just make things worse.

Some viewers may think Charlie should be concerned about another of Emma’s actions, one happening in the present, more concerning than the one from her mid-teens she picked as her worst. She makes a decision based on questionable evidence and without regard for the consequences. But the script makes this seem more like a distraction than a central counterpoint to the theme.

As noted, the performances are outstanding. In one scene, just after the big reveal, the couple are posing for the wedding photographer and it is an acting class to watch the hesitations and performative re-enactments of their pre-reveal comfort with each other. Their scenes together have an electricity beyond what the script intends. Athie understands the subtlety of Mike’s internal struggle to make everyone to get along, Hailey Benton Gates gives a vivid but layered performance as Charlie’s colleague, who tries to find a way to respond to Charlie’s inappropriate hypothetical as a subordinate who socializes with him (she and her plus one are wedding guests).

There are some sharp moments in the script but it is not up to the level of the settings, the score by Daniel Pemberton, or the performances. There’s not enough substance and way too much cringe.

Parents should know that this movie includes very disturbing content and references to school shootings. Characters use strong and crude language, drink, and use drugs, there are sexual references and explicit situations,

Family discussion: What would you have done if you were Emma? If you were Charlie? What will happen next?

If you like this, try: “Bad Sabbath” and “The Trouble with Jessica”