“Regretting You” is not a good movie. It is soapy and insipid. But somehow, thanks to its actors, it is still mildly, wait-for-streaming, watchable.

It begins 17 years ago, with two teenage couples on their way to a beach party. Serious and thoughtful Morgan (Allison Williams) and her fun-loving sister, Jenny (Willa Fitzgerald) are dating fun-loving Chris (Scott Eastwood) and serious and thoughtful Jonah (Dave Franco). “How did we end up with our exact opposites?” Jonah asks Morgan as Jenny and Chris drink beer and party by the bonfire. Morgan tells Jonah that she is pregnant.

In present day, Morgan and Chris are married and living in Chris’ childhood home with a 16 year old daughter, Clara (McKenna Grace). The family is gathering for Morgan’s birthday. Jonah has returned to town after a 15 year absence and reunited with Jenny. They have a baby and have decided to get married. It is a warm and loving celebration but there are glimpses of some underlying strains. Chris says, “I’ll wash the dishes,” and Morgan says to herself, “I’ve already done them.” And Morgan is hesitant to express happiness over her sister’s engagement.

On the way to the birthday party, Clara stopped to give “the coolest boy in school” a ride home. He is Miller (Mason Thames, the highlight of the movie), and he lives on a farm with his ailing but peppery grandfather (Clancy Brown).

A terrible accident is followed by revelations of secrets that shatter the surviving characters’ sense of themselves and their history. The question of whether those secrets should be shared with someone they will hurt has no good answers. The characters must struggle with the loss of the people they loved most and with the loss of the sense of trust and purpose and connection they thought they had.

There are some odd choices in the storyline, and too many references to pizza and jolly ranchers (not together, though pineapple and pizza are together), odd or too-on-the-nose choices for what the characters watch on television (“Clueless?” “Our Town?”), and an unnecessarily convenient twist to help resolve things at the end.

Some books are hard to adapt because the lyricism of the prose does not translate to the screen. Others are hard to adapt because we do not realize how much imagination we bring to the spaces left by the writing. This one falls more into the second category. Details that can be glossed over on the page or unconsciously filled in by the reader play differently in a movie, and may come across as abrupt or distracting.

On the other hand, there is the romantic ideal of the boy who adored us before we knew, which may not make sense in terms of reality but plays very satisfyingly in a movie. And there is the charisma of the performers, especially Franco and Thames , which just edges this into the two-screen streamer category.

Parents should know that this movie includes a fatal off-screen car accident, with two sad deaths of parents. It also includes adultery, teen pregnancy, brief strong language and teen adult drinking and drunkenness and brief teen drug use.

Family discussion: Why did Morgan decide not to tell Clara the truth? Was that a good decision? Why didn’t Miller tell Clara how he felt earlier?

If you like this, try: The book by Colleen Hoover and Nicholas Sparks films like “Dear John” and “The Lucky One”

“If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is a terrifying movie about a woman who is overwhelmed by the needs of her sick daughter and the demands of her caregivers, her disintegrating apartment ceiling, and the patients in her practice as a therapist. Writer/director Mary Bronstein was inspired by her own experiences as the mother of a sick child and the movie is not so much heightened as subjective. We are not just watching this mother; we begin to feel the pressure she is under.

Rose Byrne gives one of the best performances of the year as Linda, whose husband (Christian Slater) is a cruise boat captain, away from home for months at a time. Their daughter (played by Delaney Quinn), whose face is not seen until the very end of the film, has some kind of eating disorder and gets much of her nutrition from a feeding tube connected to a finiky, beeping machine that Linda must supply and maintain. She is in a full-time non-residential treatment facility with a tyrannical parking lot attendant and a condescending presiding doctor (played by Bronstein) who reassures parents that their children’s problems are not their fault but always has judgey concerns about the “quality of care.”

And then the roof falls in. Literally. The ceiling of Linda’s apartment suddenly has a huge hole. She and her daughter (just named “Child” in the credits and never given a name in the film) have had to move into a seedy motel. Her husband keeps nagging her to get it repaired but the contractor says he has to go to his father’s funeral and she has too much to do to stay on top of it.

Linda is a therapist. Byrne’s performance is the heart of the film and she is especially good at shifting seamlessly from real life to “therapist face,” smoothing out her anxiety to show a calm, concerned but professional, appearance. She has one patient who is a new mother (the always outstanding Danielle Macdonald), so panicked about doing something wrong that she cannot be apart from the baby, even bringing him to her therapy sessions. Linda herself is in therapy (Conan O’Brien, yes, that Conan O’Brien) is excellent as her psychiatrist.

It has elements of a horror movie, especially when Linda goes back to her apartment and is either stoned or hallucinating at what she sees there, and as one person after another seems completely incapable of showing her any genuine sympathy or providing any support. ASAP Rocky, so good earlier this year in “Highest 2 Lowest,” gives a very different but equally strong performance as Linda’s neighbor in the motel who tries to befriend her.

It may be unfair to say that a movie about someone’s life getting to be too much itself gets to be too much. But Linda is so unsympathetic, most of those around her so superficially drawn, the narrative so subjective, that it becomes less effective, more therapeutic for the filmmakers than the audience.

Parents should know that this is a disturbing movie with a main character unraveling under intense pressure and making some bad choices. Characters drink, get drunk, and discuss and use drugs and there are brief graphic medical images. A pet is run over and we see the bloody remains.

Family discussion: What was the greatest source of pressure on Linda? Where should she have gone for support? Why is it hard for her to accept help? How much of what we see is in her head?

If you like this, try: “Tully” with Charlize Theron

Lorenz Hart, called Larry by most people, was one of the greatest lyricists of all time. He and Richard Rodgers created songs of ineffable wit and pure poetry, mingling melancholy with romanticism, songs like “My Funny Valentine” (“Your looks are laughable/unphotographable/but you’re my favorite work of art”), “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” (“I’m wild again, beguiled again/A simpering, whimpering child again/Bewitched, bothered and bewildered – am I”), and the song that gives this movie its title, “Blue Moon” (“And then there suddenly appeared before me/The only one my arms will hold/I heard somebody whisper, “Please adore me”/And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold”).

This movie takes place on one night, almost entirely in one place, Broadway’s favorite bar and restaurant, the now-century-old Sardi’s. It is 1943, and it is a night that will change American theater and the fortunes of Rodgers and Hart forever. Unfortunately the fortunes of the two men will change in opposite directions. It is the opening night of “Oklahoma!” (with an exclamation point in the title), which moved Broadway musicals from fanciful light entertainment with forgettable plots and dancing chorus girls doing taps and kicks to stories about American archetypes, choreographed by Agnes de Mille, who made the dance help define the story and characters, and with songs by Rodgers and his new partner, Oscar Hammerstein, that moved the story forward.

Hart (played by Ethan Hawke, with a comb-over and some movie magic to make him appear to be under five feet tall), sees the opening number of the show and knows immediately that it will be a huge hit, that it is corny and superficial, that he could never produce anything like it, and that his partnership with Rodgers is doomed. So he leaves the play and goes to the bar, where he talks to a sympathetic bartender (Bobby Cannavale) and a GI on leave, playing the piano (Jonah Lees).

One of the most heartbreaking and beautifully written scenes of the year has Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and Hart talking about the possibility of working together again. They argue about the purpose and meaning of what they do. Hart wants to send a message. Rodgers wants to make people happy and be successful. Rodgers wants to meet at 9 and work on a schedule. Hart wants to struggle for inspiration. It is agonizing to watch as it is for the characters because they have obvious respect and admiration and gratitude for one another, and because they are both right, both wrong, and incapable of finding a way to reach one another. Another brilliantly conceived scene has two of the mid-century’s most gifted writers talking to each other, Hart and E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy). The dialog is gorgeously written, a conversation between two men who know what it is to appreciate language of precision and beauty.

The movie is about Hart’s fatal combination of sense of superiority and self-loathing. We sometimes see that conflict in his lyrics, as in “The Lady is a Tramp.” He is charming and seductive but he is also smart enough to deliver devastating barbs. Hart is anguished by longing for the impossible, here personified by a 20-year-old college girl named Elizabeth (Margaret Qualley).

He wants desperately to be loved. He quotes the line from “Casablanca,” “Nobody ever loved me that much.” But he is so terrified of the risks of intimacy that he is compelled to pursue the unobtainable or push away anyone who might get too close, to make sure he never gets another “I love you, but not that way” response. Elizabeth wants to use him to meet Rodgers, but she really does care for him. Unfortunately, what she loves about him is his endless, hungry interest in what she says, things, and does, which she is young enough to mistake for affection instead of manipulation and a twisted sense of himself as the participant in her stories rather than the one who hears them after the fact.

Elizabeth is based on a real-life character whose correspondence with Hart was part of the basis of the film. But the big scene between them is a disappointment, too long, too redundant. The brief appearances by not-yet-famous visitors to the opening night party whose names might be more recognizable today could be of interest to those immersed in theater history, but it becomes stunt-ish and distracting. That is just because the rest of it is so good we want to get back to what it does

Director Richard Linklater and screenwriter Robert Kaplow last worked together on the under-appreciated “Me and Orson Welles,” another story about a complicated creator of ambitious art. And Linklater has a second film coming out this year, “Nouvelle Vague,” about another complicated creator of ambitious art, Jean-Luc Goddard as he made his first film, “Breathless.”

In the film, Hart explains that he fell in love with intricate internal rhymes when he heard George M. Cohan’s “Over There.” Kaplow’s script is itself lyrical, a beautiful meditation one life, art, loss, and longing, and this film shows us that Hart is himself something of an intricate internal rhyme, complex, unexpected, and sometimes hard for others to understand.

Parents should know that this movie includes drinking and alcoholism, smoking, strong language, and explicit sexual references.

Family discussion: Why was it hard for Rodgers and Hart to understand each other and compromise? What do we learn from Hart’s conversation with E.B. White?

If you like this, try: Listening to Ella Fitzgerald singing the Rodgers and Hart songbook, and if you don’t mind its utter historical inaccuracy and just want to enjoy performances of classic Rodgers and Hart songs by Judy Garland, Lena Horne, Betty Garrett, and Mickey Rooney, watch “Words and Music”

In year 13, the Middleburg Film Festival founded by Sheila Johnson continues to delight, astonish, and inspire. This year featured a dazzling array of films that are certain to add to the previous years’ record of 63 Oscar nominations for predecessors on the festival schedule. George Clooney’s “Jay Kelly,” Yorgos Lanthimos’ “Bugonia,” with Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons, Sidney Sweeney as boxer Christy Martin in “Christy,” Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” starring Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi, the new “Knives Out” movie “Wake Up Dead Man,” Nia DaCosta’s “Hedda,” a re-imagining of Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabbler,” Cannes Grand Prix winner “Sentimental Value,” and Jeremy Allen White in “Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere” were among the most talked-about.

The festival’s audience award was a tie this year, the winners Hikari’s gentle, touching “Rental Family,” starring Brendan Fraser as an American actor living in Japan who goes to work for a company that provides people to act as family members or friends or proxies for those to whom they cannot say what they want, and “Hamnet,” the story of the death of Shakespeare’s young son.

The documentary award went to “The Cycle of Love,” the story of PK Mahanandia, a 23-year old Delhi street artist who in 1977 set off on a 6000-mile cross-continent bicycle ride to find Lotta, the woman who had captured his heart on a visit to India. And the International Awards went to  Ben Hania’s film, “The Voice of Hind Rajab,” based on the voice recordings of a six-year old who came under fire as she and six members of her family tried to flee Gaza City. The film is Tunisia’s official selection for the Best International Feature Oscar. 

Many of the filmmakers and performers were there, including “Frankenstein” costume designer Kate Hawley, who was interviewed by Variety’s Jazz Tangcay after the film, and actress Nina Hoss, whose performance in “Hedda” as Eileen Lovborg is based on a male character from the original play. Composer Nathan Johnson told us about developing different tones and themes to match the genres of the “Knives Out” movies.

I was honored to be included on the annual “Talk Back to the Critics” panel with my friends Travis Hopson, Tim Gordon, Jen Chaney, Roxana Hadadi, and Mae Abdulbaki.

As always, the highlight of the festival, along with the unmatchable gorgeousness of fall in Virginia’s hunt and wine country, is the unique annual tribute to a composer, accompanied by a full orchestra. This year it was Kris Bowers, who brought clips from films that included “Green Book,” “Origins,” and “The Wild Robot,” to show us how his music enriched the stories with emotion that only music can touch.

A character in “Ballad of a Small Player” tells a story about a gambler who dies and discovers that in the afterlife he is still gambling, but now he always wins. “This heaven?” he asks in amazement. “No,” he is told. “You’re in hell.”

The import of the story may be lost on the person it is told to, but it is not lost on the audience, who will understand that it is the story we are watching. Not because he is a winner, but because winning or losing, the gambling compulsion is its own hell.

In this film, the part of hell is played by Macao, the real-life gambling capital of the world, gorgeously photographed by James Friend. It looks like gambling may feel to someone who cannot give it up; thrilling, glamorous but also seedy, seductive, and dangerous.

The character who calls himself Lord Doyle (Colin Farrell) is a gambler. He wakes up in a luxurious hotel room littered with the clutter of a dozen different room service meals. He shaves and dresses in a handsome and expensive-looking green velvet suit, and fails to duck the hotel management that would like him to pay up on the $350,000 he owes them. A bellman explains he can no longer get access to the hotel limos, but whispers the name Rainbow, a casino that gives credit.

The big money game is Baccarat, and Doyle tells us millions can be won and lost in a single hand. The hostess/purveyor of credit is Dao Ming (Fala Chen). Later, after a gambler commits suicide by leaping out of a window, his widow accuses Dao Ming of causing her husband’s death and Doyle protects her. Dao Ming brings him back to her apartment. The next morning, he wakes to find her gone, but she has written a number on his palm.

The pressure on Doyle intensifies when he is tracked down by an investigator from London (Tilda Swinton), seeking repayment of money he stole when he was still called by his original name, Riley. If he does not pay back almost a million pounds, she will have him arrested.

Elements of the film tell us it may be a dream, a fantasy, or a deathbed hallucination. Or perhaps it is hell, with Doyle/Riley stuck in some kind of loop of big risks and bad decisions.

Parents should know that this film includes suicides, strong language, drinking, smoking, drug use, and criminal behavior.

Family discussion: How are Riley and Dao Ming alike and how are they different? What part of this film is a dream or fantasy?

If you like this, try: “Hard Eight” and “Molly’s Game”