Capsule reviews for March 22

Dragged Across Concrete

Strong performances and stylishly brutal violence only occasionally enlivens this otherwise self-indulgent exercise in genre subversion from director Craig Zahler (Bone Tomahawk). It stars Mel Gibson as a disgraced cop whose aggressive tactics get him into trouble, along with his younger partner (Vince Vaughn). Having lost everything, their desperation leads them into a maze of drug smuggling and other criminal activity, where they cross paths with an ex-con (Tory Kittles) trying to start over. Zahler’s deliberately paced screenplay suffers from uneven narrative momentum that tends to undercut the bursts of clever dialogue or twisty suspense — as if it’s simply too much of a mildly good thing. (Rated R, 158 minutes).

The Image Book

Jean-Luc Godard’s latest exercise in self-reflexive introspection proves that, at 88, the iconoclastic French auteur still has something to say. It’s just doubtful that anyone outside his core devotees would care to decipher it. In this case, he ruminates on dreams, memory, and mortality, among other random topics, through an assembled collage of footage from various movies (including some of his own), newscasts, television programs, and more. The filmmaker provides his own rambling narration along the way. The result certainly isn’t for all tastes, although there are intermittent rewards for moviegoers with patience and an open mind. Godard defiantly proves that he’s still relevant. (Not rated, 84 minutes).

Out of Blue

Some gritty and evocative visual touches are overwhelmed by convoluted plotting in this muddled urban crime thriller based on a novel by Martin Amis (London Fields). It follows Mike (Patricia Clarkson), a New Orleans detective assigned to the case of a murdered astrophysicist (Mamie Gummer) when her own demons cause her to spiral into a surreal odyssey that reveals more about herself than the crime she’s trying to solve. It’s a character-driven genre exercise in which Mike’s story is more compelling than the central mystery, although Clarkson’s efforts can’t offset a meandering script. The ensemble cast includes Toby Jones, Jacki Weaver, and James Caan. (Not rated, 109 minutes).

Relaxer

More polarizing than provocative, this would-be nostalgic gross-out comedy from director Joel Potrykus (The Alchemist’s Cookbook) takes place in a ramshackle apartment against the backdrop of Y2K paranoia in 1999. Specifically, it chronicles the exploits of a shirtless slacker (Joshua Burge) confined to his leather sofa because of a series of inane challenges by his abusive older brother (David Dastmalchian), which involve drinking warm milk from a baby bottle and playing Pac-Man until he breaks the game. As his discomfort gradually progresses, the endurance of moviegoers will no doubt be tested as much as that of the protagonist, whose hopeless predicament spirals into surreal madness. (Not rated, 91 minutes).

Sunset

Deliberately paced yet quietly powerful, this historical drama from Hungarian filmmaker Laszlo Nemes (Son of Saul) is set during pre-World War I turmoil in Budapest, where a young woman (Juli Jakab) returns seeking a job in an affluent hat shop that bears her family’s name. The frosty reception coincides with hints about a long-lost brother. But when she becomes obsessed with finding him, she uncovers a maze of dark family secrets. Jakab offers an expressive performance, which is especially critical considering the filmmaker’s preference for closeups and POV tracking shots. The mystery sputters in the second half, but it’s still intriguing and stylish enough to resonate. (Rated R, 142 minutes).

Trading Paint

The screenplay needs a tune-up in this predictable drama about dirt-track auto racing that lacks the necessary adrenaline rush. John Travolta stars as Sam, an Alabama racing legend whose son (Toby Sebastian) is a promising driver on his fledgling team, where his primary task is to beat Sam’s longtime rival (Michael Madsen). But stubbornness leads to a family squabble, leaving father and son competing against one another in a case of misplaced priorities. The melodramatic story lumbers toward the finish line from there, although Travolta at least tries to bring some emotional depth to his performance. Plus, the film conveys an affinity for its backdrop. (Rated R, 87 minutes).