Capsule reviews for Dec. 6

Daniel Isn’t Real

Most kiddos ditch their imaginary friends before they reach their teens. But college student Luke (Miles Robbins) continues to be tormented by his invisible sidekick in this subversive psychological thriller from director Adam Egypt Mortimer (Some Kind of Hate). Luke figures his problem can be traced to the schizophrenia that hospitalized his mother (Mary Stuart Masterson). But can he figure out Daniel’s (Patrick Schwarzenegger) motives before his life is ruined? The moderately creepy premise is squandered by a disappointing series of final-act twists that steer toward genre conventions, namely the exploitation of mental illness for cheap thrills. The result is all buildup with no payoff. (Not rated, 99 minutes).

The Disappearance of My Mother

It’s both a tribute to an artist’s muse and a salute to the career of an aging supermodel and feminist icon, but this documentary carries extra weight when its director is the subject’s son. That’s the case for this portrait of Benedetta Barzini, the mother of Italian photographer and filmmaker Beniamino Barrese. She’s retreated from her life in the spotlight to a modest apartment in Milan — eschewing an industry that values beauty above all else — where she very reluctantly agrees to reminisce and star in Barrese’s passion project. The result is uneven and sometimes uncomfortable, yet also potent in its examination of mortality and celebrity. (Not rated, 93 minutes).

Grand Isle

A rich sense of Southern Gothic atmosphere at least provides a temporary distraction from the more formulaic elements of this silly thriller from director Stephen Campanelli (best known as Clint Eastwood’s longtime camera operator). It’s set in 1988 mostly in the titular seaside Louisiana town, where a Vietnam veteran (Nicolas Cage) and his flirtatious wife (Kadee Strickland) inhabit an estate that a handyman (Luke Benward) reluctantly sees as a safe haven while he’s stranded during a hurricane. The visitor later becomes a murder suspect sought by an investigator (Kelsey Grammer). The concept is intriguing, but some far-fetched twists derail any narrative momentum in the second half. (Not rated, 97 minutes).

In Fabric

Let’s talk about killer fashion. For those attuned to its idiosyncratic wavelength, the latest from British director Peter Strickland (The Duke of Burgundy) is as unsettling as it is beautiful. It tracks a red dress bought by a recent divorcee (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) looking to start a new relationship. The problem is the garment, bought at a distinctly bizarre London department store, comes with a curse that terrorizes everyone who it contacts. And it doesn’t like being put in the washing machine. Even if the whole thing seems silly and self-indulgent, its goofy throwback vibe casts an intoxicating spell, regardless of your preference for vintage couture. (Rated R, 118 minutes).

I See You

Attempting to both indulge and subvert genre conventions, this atmospheric low-budget thriller from director Adam Randall (iBoy) benefits from solid performances and enough twists to cover its contrivances. It follows a detective (Jon Tenney) investigating a child’s disappearance, but finding instead some larger troubles within his own family, such as his broken marriage to his unfaithful wife (Helen Hunt), and their teenage son (Judah Lewis) caught in the middle. Then some sinister happenings complicate things further. The screenplay by actor Devon Graye steers its story in multiple directions with mixed results, although even when its central mystery becomes muddled, the film maintains a suspenseful undercurrent. (Rated R, 96 minutes).

Knives and Skin

Visual flourishes overwhelm narrative substance in this dark coming-of-age neo-noir that bogs down in relentless brooding among its teenage protagonists. It begins by depicting the disappearance of a small-town high school student, then shows how a diverse group of her angst-ridden female classmates come emotionally unraveled by mysterious forces as they seek to learn what moviegoers already know about her fate — and gain revenge. The screenplay by director Jennifer Reeder relies on surreal hallucinations and bizarre tangents that are distinct and mildly inventive yet don’t build much meaningful tension. The tedious pace drowns out any subtext about social fabric and gender politics beneath the surface. (Not rated, 112 minutes).

Little Joe

The title of this austere, slow-burning horticulture thriller comes from the name of a plant. Unfortunately, it’s also the most intriguing character in the movie, which marks the English-language debut of Austrian director Jessica Hausner (Amour Fou). Alice (Emily Beecham) is the lead gardener on a top-secret project to develop plants — not that kind — that put human caretakers in a happy mood. She becomes obsessed with the project as the science goes awry, threatening her collaborator (Ben Whishaw) and potentially her young son (Kit Connor) — for whom she smuggled home a sample. As the creepiness ensues, the film’s stylish but pretentious quirks keep it emotionally detached. (Not rated, 105 minutes).

Midnight Family

Don’t become severely ill or injured in Mexico City. That’s the primary takeaway from this bleak yet thrilling documentary that profiles one family trying to exploit the sprawling city’s ambulance shortage. Specifically, it follows the male members of the Ochoa family, who run a private EMT service during the overnight hours, racing their competitors to accident scenes so they can treat and transport patients to hand-picked hospitals, then collect a fee. But before you start condemning their ethics, the film’s even-handed perspective sympathizes with their opportunistic effort to make a living. Broader context might help, although the film’s vivid intimacy creates a powerful sense of urgency. (Not rated, 81 minutes).

Playmobil: The Movie

The venerable toys make their big-screen debut with this lackluster animated adventure looking to cash in on the coattails of the Lego Movie franchise. It starts in live-action with a sullen teenager (Anya Taylor-Joy) and her younger brother, who are magically transformed into Playmobil figures amid a time-traveling fantasy world of Vikings, cowboys, dinosaurs, aliens, spies, fairies, pirates, and evil Roman emperors. Children might appreciate the easily digestible lessons of courage, teamwork, and the power of imagination. But adults will become exhausted by a tendency to cram every frame with incoherent mayhem. The charming spirit of the titular plastic toys is lost in the process. (Rated PG, 99 minutes).

The Wolf Hour

Naomi Watts brings an emotional anchor to this otherwise inconsequential character study about paranoia and artistic anguish. It’s set against the backdrop of the Summer of Sam murders, with Watts playing an agoraphobic writer confined to a messy high-rise Bronx apartment. Despite occasional visits from a beleaguered former colleague (Jennifer Ehle) and a delivery boy (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), her fears are exacerbated by anonymous buzzes on her intercom. As her back story is detailed, he single setting doesn’t yield sufficient suspense, either from inside or outside. Instead, the screenplay by director Alistair Banks Griffin crafts an intriguing protagonist without giving her a compelling story to inhabit. (Rated R, 99 minutes).