When does theft become homage? When the person you’re ripping off is a collaborator. J.J. Abrams apparently knows this and, with Steven Spielberg on board as executive producer, his Super 8 has gone from Spielberg-theft to Spielbergesque.

Actually, of the all the films that have tried to do Spielberg—Goonies and Gremlins come to mind—Super 8 may do it best. It captures a lot of the uniquely clear-eyed suburban nostalgia that made Spielberg films like E.T. and Close Encounters of the Third Kind so magical.

It’s the summer of 1979 and, in a working class Ohio town, Joel (Joe Lamb) has just lost his mother to a horrible accident at the plant. His cop father (Kyle Chandler) is ill-equipped to deal with a grieving son (or his own grief for that matter) but luckily Joel has an enterprising friend (Riley Griffiths) who wants to make a zombie film on his Super 8 camera. That’s just the distraction that Joel, who is handy with makeup and props, needs—all the more so when the cool and pretty Alice (Elle Fanning) is cast as the leading lady....

Sometimes you have to risk ridiculousness to find the sublime and director Terrence Malick has never shied away from that paradox. With its hushed dialogue, poetic incantations, and lengthy digressions about the cosmos, it would be very easy to mock Malick’s latest, The Tree of Life, as self-indulgent nonsense. But be careful what you mock. For all its art house pretensions, it is also one of the most resonant examinations of childhood that I have ever seen.

There are two things you need to know before you go see The Tree of Life: One is that very early in the film, Malick takes a break from the O’Briens, the traditional 1950s family he has introduced us to—Brad Pitt is the father, along with his forest-sprite-like wife (Jessica Chastain) and their three sons—and turns his attention to swirling images of fire, water, clouds, and solar systems (there’s even a little parable involving dinosaurs). We are watching nothing less than the dawn of the earth.

Now, some people will be enthralled by the beauty of these images. Others, like myself, will be glancing at their watches...

In its own modest way, Bridesmaids is actually pretty groundbreaking. On the most basic level, it’s a gender-reversal take on 2009’s The Hangover, where it’s the bridesmaids who go wild this time, not the groomsmen. And that alone would be cause for celebration. After all, how many raunchy, rollicking female buddy films have we seen in the last five years? (I’ll save you a trip to imdb.com. The answer is none.) (And no, Sex and the City doesn’t count.)

But the most satisfying aspect of Bridesmaids may very well be that it finally gives Kristen Wiig a proper vehicle for her outsized talent (she also co-wrote the script). Fans of Saturday Night Live already know what a powerhouse she is (SNL’s guiding principle seems to be: “Throw Kristen into the skit, she’ll make it better!”) and I’d enjoyed her supporting work in small films like Whip It! and Extract.

But anytime somebody steps out of skit comedy and into feature leads, you have to wonder: Can they really carry a film on their own? The answer, happily, is...

The Maryland Film Festival (http://www.md-filmfest.com) is happening next week (May 5-8). Lucky me, I got to preview some of the films.

Better This World

No matter what your political predilection, prepare to be outraged when you watch the documentary Better This World. It tells the story of two earnest young men—Brad Crowder and David McKay— who traveled from Texas to Minnesota to protest the 2008 Republican National Convention. After Molotov cocktails were found in their possession, they were both imprisoned for domestic terrorism. An open and shut case of youthful idealism turned violent? Not so fast. Turns out, they were recruited, riled up, and essentially dared to “do whatever it...