Capsule reviews for March 6

Andre Is an Idiot

What starts out as a cautionary tale about getting your dreaded colonoscopy evolves into a moving and even humorous documentary about one man’s unique perspective on mortality. The subject is Andre Ricciardi, a San Francisco marketing employee who regrets his decision to avoid seeing doctors almost his entire life when he’s diagnosed with terminal colon cancer that has spread. From there, the film chronicles his journey toward inevitable death, putting his own sarcastic and life-affirming spin on a dark journey that is typically very solemn. Rookie director Tony Benna strikes a delicate emotional balance, both for Andre and for moviegoers, that makes it a powerful portrait. (Not rated, 88 minutes).

Dolly

More of the budget apparently went toward fake blood than screenwriting for this tedious exercise in slasher horror from director Rod Blackhurst (Blood for Dust) that spotlights some throwback visual flourishes yet strains to justify its feature length. Macy (Fabienne Therese) is hiking in the woods with her boyfriend (Seann William Scott) when she’s abducted by a sadistic killer wearing a porcelain doll mask and wielding a shovel. She wakes up in captivity in a life-size doll house, desperate to escape. Many scenes are elongated to maximize the carnage without providing any suspense, psychological depth, or meaningful subtext. It’s just relentless brutality to satiate genre devotees. (Rated R, 82 minutes).

Pompei: Below the Clouds

More of an evocative visual essay than a traditional documentary, the latest effort from Italian filmmaker Gianfranco Rosi (Fire at Sea) rewards patient moviegoers with its sumptuous aesthetics that distinctly capture a sense of time and place. The film immerses us in Naples, where the notorious Mount Vesuvius remains an active volcano in constant view, adding some anxiety to daily life, whether first responders dealing with emergencies, curious children facing an uncertain future, or scientists studying connections to the past. The result alternates between comforting and unsettling as Rosi maintains an observational approach, while the deliberate pace yields a poetic, often powerful cumulative impact. (Not rated, 114 minutes).

Protector

Pretending to be a gritty examination of the horrors of human trafficking, this lackluster crime thriller from director Adrian Grunberg (Rambo: Last Blood) instead just uses that backdrop for some assembly-line vigilante justice. Nikki (Milla Jovovich) is an ex-special forces operative who returns from overseas deployment to compensate for lost time with her teenage daughter (Isabel Myers). But when she’s abducted, the resilient Nikki uses her particular set of skills to seek brutal revenge on a trafficking operation and anyone who stands in her way. The film features some creatively choreographed confrontations, although the eye-rolling script relies on a silly ticking-clock framework and ridiculous climactic twist. (Rated R, 91 minutes).

Heel

While the premise is provocative, the payoff mostly falls flat in this unsettling domestic thriller from director Jan Komasa (Anniversary), that doesn’t generate much substance beneath its surface chills. It follows a violent, reckless teenager (Anson Boon) who is abducted during a night of partying, and winds up chained in the basement of a husband (Stephen Graham) and wife (Andrea Riseborough) who claim the captivity is intended to reform him. But eventually the power dynamics start to shift. It’s intriguing to watch the scenario play out within its claustrophobic confines, although the film struggles to articulate what it all means or why we should care. (Not rated, 110 minutes).

Youngblood

Hockey has its share of fights, and this Canadian remake of the 1986 coming-of-age sports saga faces an internal battle between earnestly exposing the sport’s systemic racism and toxic masculinity, and succumbing to underdog crowd-pleaser cliches. The primary update here is that teen prodigy Dean (Ashton James) is Black, which adds obstacles to his dreams of turning pro. As he gets a possible break, he still must contend with his own temper, an overbearing father (Blair Underwood), and an old-school coach (Shawn Doyle). The game sequences are directed with gritty authenticity by Hubert Davis (Black Ice), although the script’s heartfelt intentions are compromised by final-act predictability. (Rated PG-13, 104 minutes).