Capsule reviews for Aug. 20

Bring Your Own Brigade

Both immersive and insightful, this captivating documentary aims for more than just heartbreak and horror while chronicling the devastating 2018 California wildfires and their aftermath. Digging beneath the headlines of separate tragedies at opposite ends of the state, British filmmaker Lucy Walker interviews residents and rescuers at the scene to harrowing effect. As an outsider, she also examines in broader terms the escalating frequency of wildfires, and whether there’s any way to prevent them or mitigate their catastrophic impact. The film’s even-handed viewpoint yields progressive and persuasive ideas, even for those who aren’t in traditional hotspots, without turning heavy-handed. And it still finds room for hope. (Rated R, 127 minutes).

Cryptozoo

Adult Swim meets Planet of the Apes in this outrageous though deeply felt animated plea for acceptance and compassion. It’s set in a fantasy world where humans coexist with mythical hybrid beasts such as gorgons, centaurs, and unicorns — collectively known as “cryptids” — who are outsiders relegated to lives of seclusion. An idea to open a theme park to spread awareness, however, draws scrutiny from those who feel most threatened. Neither a freak show nor a traditional creature feature, the film is deliberately paced but rewards patience. Employing a rudimentary hand-drawn visual style, director Dash Shaw’s delightfully offbeat creation is based in mythology yet grounded in reality. (Not rated, 95 minutes).

Habit

Between the atrocious acting and the outrageously piled-on eccentricities, this lame send-up of millennial entitlement and organized religion is too detached from reality to achieve any satirical aspirations. It centers on an unemployed drug addict (Bella Thorne) who gets caught up in a plot involving a dealer (Gavin Rossdale) and some stolen cash, forcing her and her two promiscuous BFFs to hide out as nuns until the ruse goes too far. Rookie director Janell Shirtcliff lacks the audacity to commit to campy exploitation, instead straining to make the unfunny film’s trio of airheaded fugitives sympathetic in a desperate attempt to be edgy and subversive. (Rated R, 81 minutes).

Last Man Standing

More recycled than revelatory, the latest project from British documentarian Nick Broomfield follows up on his 2002 expose into the still-unsolved murders of rappers Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. The rationale, as Broomfield explains, is that with music mogul Suge Knight now locked up, more of his associates are willing to come forward with details about his alleged involvement in both gang-related killings. The candid new interviews dig up some persuasive evidence to support rumors of Knight’s involvement and a subsequent police cover-up. However, there’s not enough fresh insight here to justify revisiting the case yet again for those who have followed it through the years. (Not rated, 105 minutes).

Ma Belle, My Beauty

The unique dynamics of polyamorous relationships form an intriguing backdrop for this romantic melodrama, which is able to sidestep love-triangle formula yet struggles to generate sufficient emotional depth. It takes place in rural southern France, where recently married jazz musicians Bertie (Idella Johnson) and Fred (Lucien Guignard) have relocated. Sparks fly with a visit from Lane (Hannah Pepper), who was a third partner back in New Orleans, but whose sudden arrival now — at Fred’s request, and without Bertie’s knowledge — fuels jealousy and uncertainty. The committed performances elevate an uneven and deliberately paced screenplay by rookie director Marion Hill that is overshadowed by the lush scenery. (Not rated, 93 minutes).

The Night House

Other than a richly textured performance by Rebecca Hall (The Town), this metaphysical haunted-house thriller doesn’t do much to elevate itself above genre conventions. Hall plays a widow left alone in her lakeside abode to process her grief. She begins experiencing a series of nightmares and harrowing visions that, against advice from a close friend (Sarah Goldberg), prompts her to dig through her deceased husband’s belongings in search of clues. Some atmospheric visual flourishes from director David Bruckner (The Ritual) can’t rescue a screenplay that struggles to generate consistent suspense while meandering toward a head-scratching final twist. It’s intermittently chilling but never terrifying. (Rated R, 108 minutes).