Imagine that the little band you put together in your teens exceeded every possible dream of success, worldwide fame, rave reviews, unprecedented adoration from fans, buckets of awards, and money money money. Then, it all ends, the band breaks up, the complications from business managers and lawyers and hard feelings create intense misery. And you’re only 27 years old.

That is what happened to Sir Paul McCartney as the 1960s were ending. This film, produced by Sir Paul, tells the story of what he did next.

The first thing he did next was a combination of unwinding and despair. Sir Paul, his wife Linda and her daughter from her first marriage moved to a remote farm that seemed like it was at the end of the world. He tells us he thought he would never write another note.

The peace of the farm is healing. He likes the sheep. He becomes a vegetarian. Linda has a baby. And then he returns to music with the McCartney album, the one with, in my opinion, one of the greatest love songs of all time, “Maybe I’m Amazed,” and then Ram with “Too Many People,” what today we’d call a diss track about John Lennon (not discussed in the film).

He wants to go. back to his roots, start a new group. Linda agrees to join. “Well, that’s two, then,” Paul says. His plan is to play at small venues and have the kind of band the Beatles was in the days of the Cavern Club and Hamburg, where, in his mind, everyone was equal. Much has been written about whether the Beatles was equal with two people writing most of the songs and making most of the decisions, but whether it was or not, four teenagers performing in their home town of Liverpool is not the same thing as an international superstar assembling (hiring) a new band.

It is a lot of fun at first, traveling around and playing for small groups who are more surprised and curious than appreciative. Like a Supreme Court justice arguing your ticket in traffic court or George Takei showing up to act in your fanfic “Star Trek” movie. This is what Sir Paul loves, playing music with his mates for an audience who isn’t drowning out the music with screams.

Documentarian Morgan Neville has assembled archival clips, including some endearing home movies, in an impressionistic, occasionally whimsical, mosaic. Sir Paul, who produced, is famously cheerful (compare his Christmas song to Lennon’s, and recall that he wrote “You have to admit it’s getting better” and Lennon added “Can’t get no worse”). His oddly cool reaction the day Lennon was murdered is included, though sympathetically portrayed as a response to an unforgivably rude question. In this film he allows himself to get more introspective than usual, talking about how he and John were estranged but never stopped loving each other and about how Linda and his children helped bring him back to music. When Wings breaks up, he knows he can start again. And if he never reaches the heights of the Beatles era, that’s fine. As a fan of Sir Paul for decades, who’s seen him in concert twice, I found this a pleasure.

Parents should know this film includes some strong language and social drinking.

Family discussion: What would you do if everything you had worked for suddenly stopped? What is your favorite Paul McCartney song?

If you like this, try: “A Hard Days Night” and “Get Back”

I never had the love for Glen Powell’s “Hit Man” that most people did. The set-up and the wit were all wonderfully entertaining and the chemistry between Powell and Adria Arjona was off the charts, but the “happy” ending was too dark to fit the world of the rest of the film. The same issue creates even bigger problems with Powell’s new film, “How to Make a Killing,” inspired by the classic “Kind Hearts and Coronets,” with Alec Guinness playing eight roles, all relatives who were killed off, one by one, by a wily schemer. The multiple roles gimmick is fun, but that film, a Criterion Collection gem, works because it is an outstanding example of a black comedy. This one should have studied it more closely.

Like the original, this one begins with the hero/anti-hero in prison, waiting for his execution. Powell plays Becket Redfellow, whose mother was disowned by her very wealthy family when she became pregnant at age 18 and refused to have an abortion. His father died when he was an infant, so his mother raised him alone for a few years until she died, making him promise he would do whatever it took to have the “right life,” he deserved. By “right” she meant the wealth and prestige of her family. But when Becket, still a child, asked if his mother could be buried in the family mausoleum, the butler handed him a note with a “polite” refusal that wished him well.

As a child, Becket had a crush on Julia (Margaret Qualley as an adult). In Great Expectations fashion, they are separated for years and then meet again. He is still enthralled by her, but she is engaged to a man who shares her social cachet. She turns down his offer to get together to catch up and makes a joke about how Beckett should kill off those ahead of him in line to inherit his grandfather’s multi-billion dollar estate.

And then Beckett starts to kill off those ahead of him in line to inherit the estate. (Conveniently for the plot, the entire estate automatically goes to whoever is next in line.)

This gives us a chance to meet the relatives, who are all arrogant and selfish and not that interesting. There’s a partying finance bro, a pretentious artist, and a woman who brags about adopting 11 children from different countries. Topher Grace brings some vitality to his role as something between a prosperity gospel huckster and a personal empowerment huckster. One of the relatives turns out to be a decent guy, but he conveniently dies of natural causes. Cut to yet another scene in front of the family mausoleum.

A movie that asks us to root for a ruthless (note the name of a key character) serial killer needs a consistent, heightened, satiric tone and very sharp and specific characters. Think of a film like the original British version of “Bedazzled” (the Brendan Fraser remake is pretty good, too). The actors here seem to be coming from different movies. It should also have clever crimes. Like the characters, the crimes here are bland, and like “Hit Man” the end is unsatisfying and sour. Even a very black-humor-based movie has to have some kind of moral core. This one is just empty.

Parents should know that this film involves a series of murders of family members. Characters drink alcohol, smoke tobacco and weed, and use very strong language.

Family discussion: What is the “right life?” Why were the members of this family so selfish?

If you like this, try: “Kind Hearts and Coronets,” “Gross Pointe Blank,” and “Mr. Right”

Until someone invents a time machine, this movie is the only way you will get a chance to experience one of the most electrifying performers of the 20th century at the absolute height of his charisma and musicianship. Go see it, and if at all possible, see it in IMAX.

A professional film crew followed Elvis Presley for about a decade, with more than a thousand live concerts plus rehearsals, behind the scenes footage, and a remarkably candid audio-only interview that serves as the narration for this film. All of that footage was lost until director Baz Luhrmann tracked it down when he was working on his film with Austin Butler as Elvis. There were hours of footage, but the film was fragile and required extensive but very delicate restoration. (No AI, not a single frame, Luhrmann assures us.) That footage has now been assembled into an intimate documentary that shows us Elvis at his best, with the most touching and inspiring footage ever of this incessantly-filmed star, showing us, above all, his broad-ranging and deep love of music, of his audience, and of performing. In under two hours, we hear many of his hits, including my two favorites, “Poke Salad Annie” and “Burning Love,” but also his mastery of an astonishing range of genres: country, R&B, gospel, honky tonk, pop, and rock. When he sings Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel songs, it is not because he is trying to compete or keep up; he genuinely loves their music and brings his own understanding of what makes them great.

An introduction gives us an impressionistic mosaic of what has led up to his decision to focus on live performance. We see his early years and his being drafted into the Army and serving in Germany. That would be his only time outside of the United States, and we later hear his wistful longing for a chance to perform in Europe. (His manager, “Colonel” Tom Parker, would not allow him to tour internationally, for a reason we did not learn until both had died: Parker, a Dutch citizen, was in the US illegally and feared that if he left he would not be allowed back into the country.)

We get a sense of his overwhelming life. He is always gracious despite the obnoxious and insulting questions from the press and the constant attention and neediness of those around him. He jokes about Ed Sullivan telling the cameras to show him only above the waist, and about how his sparkly suit is too tight to allow him to kneel.

His interactions with his musicians are mutually respectful, friendly, good-humored, but very professional and specific. He knows what he wants to sing, when it should come in the show, and what it should sound like. He works very hard, telling us he loses 4 or 5 pounds with each performance. At times he looks as skinny as when he first appeared in public.

Elvis is too often reduced to the caricatures of his last years, overweight, ostentatious bling and caped jumpsuits, fried banana sandwiches, giving away cars. It is pure joy to replace that with these vibrant, pulse-pounding, genuinely thrilling performances, very skillfully edited to match the rhythm of the music. We see the wildly appreciative audience (including Cary Grant and Sammy Davis, Jr., who show up after the performance in Presley’s dressing room to say hello, and one-time co-star, dancer Juliet Prowse). Fitting for the gospel and gospel-influenced delivery, at times it feels like a soul-stirring church service. Some of the venues are quite small by today’s arena standards, giving it a palpable air of humility, grace, and connection. We are on stage with him, and one of the purest joys of the film is the private smile when he thinks he has done well. He comes alive in performative mode, drawing energy from the crowd. But that smile of satisfaction invites us into a world that is just Elvis and his music. Thanks to Luhrmann and most of all to Elvis Presley for reminding us — and making available forever — a genuine superstar.

Parents should know that there are some suggestive lyrics and some drinking answers smoking.

Family discussion: Which is your favorite Elvis song? Who is most like Elvis today?

If you like this, try: “Elvis: The Searcher,” “Viva Las Vegas,” and “Elvis: That’s the Way It Is”

Three people under increasing pressure find their stories intersecting in a tense, old-school crime drama that hopes top acting talent will keep you from noticing, or at least caring. And it pretty much succeeds.

Chris Hemsworth, who also produced, stars as Mike, a smooth, methodical thief who specializes in detailed plans where no one is ever hurt. He also specializes in a particular geographic location. The 101 in the title is not a metaphor for an introductory class but a reference to the Los Angeles freeway. Mike lives a very controlled, sterile, isolated life. He tells the man who acts as a fence for the stolen goods (Nick Nolte, rasping his way through a small role as “Money”) that he is going to quit.

Mark Ruffalo is Lou, the police detective trying to persuade his boss that there is one person behind a series of jewel robberies along the 101, as the boss complains about his low closure rate and pushes Lou to make ethical compromises.

And Halle Berry is Sharon, who sells insurance to wealthy collectors and is under-appreciated by her boorish boss. She has repeatedly been promised she would be made partner, but he keeps telling her she has to wait.

Methodical can also mean predictable, and Lou thinks he knows where the next robbery will be. But Money adds chaos to the mix by telling Orman (Barry Keoghan), a trigger-happy motorcyclist to rob the place Mike had identified.

All of these stories come together in a sleek, moody story that shows off the landscape of Los Angeles very effectively. Mike meets Maya (Monica Barbaro (Joan Baez in “A Complete Unknown”) and is very drawn to her warmth and empathy, two qualities we suspect he avoided because he was afraid of being vulnerable. Sharon is pushed aside by her boss, who gives a younger associate the chance to close the deal she was working on. (Tate Donovan is very good here as the client Sharon is trying to land, an arrogant billionaire engaged to a much younger woman.) Keoghan has a plausible American accent and an even more plausible combination of fear, anger, brutality, and the need to prove himself.

The plot keeps trying to bring all of these parts together, but they never quite mesh. Each segment, even the rumpled Ruffalo with a marital separation scene, feels as sterile and isolated as Mike’s spare, generic apartment. That separation scene features Jennifer Jason Leigh as Leo’s wife. Like Cory Hawkins, who play’s Leo’s partner, Leigh is immensely talented and unforgivably underused.

And then there is the last half hour, which plot holes that overpower the charisma of the stars and the glossiness of the production. The bigger problem is that what is intended to be rough justice comes across as fatuous and cynical.

Parents should know that this movie includes violence, with characters injured and killed, sexual references and situations including a sex worker, strong language, and alcohol.

Family discussion: Do you agree with Lou’s choice at the end? With Sharon’s decision? What will Mike do next?

If you like this, try: “Tequila Sunrise” and “Heat”

Emerald Fennell’s new film is more of a a sexy perfume commercial than a version of the classic Emily Bronte novel. The title and character names are from the book as are the windswept moors that act as setting and metaphor. But the book is not a romance; it is a story of obsession, repression, grief, and generational trauma. This version changes some of the relationships and, significantly, backstories to center the passionate love affair between Catherine Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi).

The movie begins with a crude joke. We hear what sounds like a sexual situation, with bedsprings squeaking and increasingly heavy breathing. And then we see that the source of the sounds is….the last strangled breaths of a man who is being hanged. The crowd is watching it as great entertainment. And a young girl (Charlotte Mellington as young Catherine) is mesmerized.

Catherine lives with her dissolute, brutish father (Martin Clunes) in an isolated, once-grand home. There are a few shabby servants and a between-classes woman named Nelly (Hong Chau), the out-of-wedlock daughter of a nobleman, who serves as Cathy’s caretaker. Mr. Earnshaw impulsively brings home a boy he rescued from being beaten. He has no name, so Catherine dubs him Heathcliff (Owen Cooper of “Adolescence” as young Heathcliff), after her late brother.

Catherine and Heathcliff have an instant, deep connection, but it is not entirely reciprocal. They are a lesser version of Buttercup and Wesley; she takes advantage of him and teases him, he is never anything but devoted and sincere, and they never have any kind of honest conversation about their feelings or prospects. She sulks and flounces. When she makes them late for dinner, he takes a beating from Mr. Earnshaw by lying that he was responsible.

The tiny population of the home that gives the book and the movie its name is all the people in this isolated area of the moors until the wealthy Edgar Linton moves five miles away with his ward, Isabella. Fennell is always superb at giving us striking, spectacular images that tell us a great deal about the characters, and the Linton home is one of Production Designer Suzie Davies’ most stunning achievements. Catherine (now played by Robbie) looks almost feral as she goes through a garden wall to enter the Linton’s exquisitely civilized space.

Soon, Heathcliff leaves and Catherine is married to Edgar. She now has magnificent jewels and a series of fabulous gowns in gorgeous settings, a sharp contrast to the wildness of the moors. Just in case we don’t get the point, Isabella makes a doll version of herself and Catherine and puts them in a dollhouse version of the Linton mansion, which itself, like an infinite regression, has a miniature version so the dolls can play with their own dollhouse. Oh, and the Catherine doll has Catherine’s own hair, taken from her hairbrush.

Fennell has some wild details, including Edgar having Catherine’s bedroom painted the color of her complexion, down to her freckle, and Catherine peeking through the floorboards to watch her servants have sex in the stable, using the horse’s bridle as a sex toy. And, again, a departure from the book, when Heathcliff returns, years later, he and Catherine have an affair. Perhaps the most significant departure is eliminating several characters and the multi-generational elements of the story. Or maybe it is when characters in a sexual relationship of domination and humiliation, and the one who is dominated end up chained like a dog and forced to communicate by barking. There’s no reason to believe these people care about each other beyond the fact that there are literally no other people around.

Pretty people in beautiful settings yearning, hurting each other, having sex — eye candy, titillation, but very superficial. At least a perfume commercial is over quickly.

Parents should know that this movie has very explicit sexual situations and references including domination and bondage, an alcoholic and abusive parent, sad deaths, strong language, drinking and smoking.

Family discussion:

If you like this, try: the book and the other movie versions, especially the one starring Sir Laurence Olivier.