I  had to drag myself to see 50/50. I mean, did I really want to see a movie where Joseph Gordon Levitt battles cancer? Especially when the film was (dubiously) dubbed a comedy?

Man, am I glad I went. It’s almost impossible to overstate how lovable a film this is. It’s endearing, clever, moving, and, yes, funny. A cancer film for the rest of us.

Part of what makes 50/50 so good, and so totally grounded in a recognizable reality, is the fact that it was written by Will Reiser, a young comedy writer who himself was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 27 (he’s now in remission). Reiser had the good fortune to be close friends with actor/writer Seth Rogen, who plays Kyle—essentially a fictionalized version of himself—in the film.

50/50 doesn’t fall into the trap of so many cancer films: Just because Gordon Levitt’s Adam has cancer, it doesn’t make him a saint, it doesn’t make him a deeper, more profound human being. He’s just a regular guy dealing with a seriously messed up situation.

So how do a couple of young, funny, hip guys deal when one of them gets cancer? They smoke a lot of weed, make a lot of gallows jokes, and, at Kyles’s urging, attempt...

Everything about I Don’t Know How She Does feels slightly off. There’s the ungainly title, which sounds like something you’d find in the self-help section of a bookstore (it’s actually based on a 2002 novel). There’s the fact that Sarah Jessica Parker’s Kate Reddy works as an investment manager. (Is America ready to embrace a movie about a finance exec?) And there’s the film’s slightly dated insistence that Kate feels  judged by society for not staying at home with her two adorable kids. (If anything, my stay-at-home friends feel the opposite—like society is raising its collective eyebrow at them. )

And frankly, who really wants to see a movie about somebody else’s stress? Kate has to juggle career, kids, husband, backstabbing co-workers, a constantly buzzing cell phone, last minute business travel arrangements, meddling in-laws, etc. Yeesh, with escape like that, who needs the movies?

Also, much as they can mess up SPJ’s hair and have one of her shirt-tails come adorably untucked, things aren’t really all that bad for Kate. Her husband, played by Greg Kinnear, is doting and almost endlessly patient. Her hot new client (Pierce Brosnan) takes one look at Kate singing a lullaby to her...

If a horror film needs to pass the smell test—that is, be grounded in some sort of credible reality—in order for you to enjoy it, steer clear of Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark. It’s filled with ridiculous implausibilities that had me rolling my eyes (in the dark).

But at some point, I must admit, that I gave into the film’s impressionistic pleasures. It succeeds more as a sensory experience than a narrative one. It’s about two things essentially: A very creepy house (filled with very creepy things that go bump in the night) and a very scared, but very determined, little girl. Judged on that criteria alone, it’s a complete success.

Bailee Madison, the excellent, somber-faced child star who shined in 2009’s Brothers, plays Sally, a sad little girl—she’s shown popping Adderall—who is sent to live with her architect father (Guy Pearce) and his interior decorator girlfriend (Katie Holmes) in the giant gothic mansion they are renovating together. Because yes, the best place for a depressed little girl is an isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere without another child in sight. And by all means, give that girl a creepy rotating music box that casts shadows on the wall...

When you love a book—I mean really love it—you approach its screen adaptation with a curious mix of hopefulness and combativeness: “Oh, I hope they do it justice” blended with “they better not screw it up.”

So I’m happy to report that newcomer Tate Taylor’s screen version of The Help—a book that I loved, your mama loved, and, more importantly, Oprah loved—not only does the book justice, but manages to replicate many of its specific and satisfying joys.

In Jim-Crow-era Mississippi, Skeeter (Emma Stone), a recent college grad who has ambitions beyond cotillion parties and bridge club teas, wants to give a voice to the exploited and demeaned black domestic servants, aka, “the help.” So she approaches a friend’s maid, Aibileen (Viola Davis)—and asks her to share her story for a potential book.

This, of course, could have real consequences for both of them: Skeeter could lose her (already shaky) social standing; Aibileen could get fired, arrested, or worse (racial violence was running rampant in Jackson at that time). But a slow trust forms between the two women and Aibileen, inspired by a church sermon about standing up for what’s right, agrees to tell her story. Soon Aibileen’s...