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Matt Smith as Charles Manson

“CHARLIE SAYS” My rating: B-

104 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The murderous Charles Manson family has been the subject of countless films, TV shows and documentaries. “Charlie Says” approaches the yarn from the point of view of one of his “girls.”

Written by Guinevere Turner and directed by Mary Harron (the same team who brought us “American Psycho” nearly 20 years ago), the film is less about Manson (portrayed here by “Dr. Who” veteran Matt Smith) than about Leslie “Lulu” Van Houten, a runaway teen who wandered into Charlie’s harem at the Spahn Ranch (a Western movie set just outside L.A.) and ended up a convicted killer on Death Row.

Lulu is portrayed by Hannah Murray, a Brit actress best known on these shores as Samwell Tarley’s wife Gilly on HBO’s “Game of Thrones.” Her role on GOT doesn’t begin to suggest the depth of her work here, in which her character evolves from moon-faced innocent to blood spattered loony who repeatedly stabbed one of the family’s victims.

In the “present” (about 1973) we find Lulu, Patricia “Katie” Krenwinkel (Sosie Bacon) and Susan”Sadie” Atkins (Marianne Rendon) occupying separate cells in a California prison.  The state has recently outlawed executions,  but the three women are considered too dangerous to join the rest of the prison population, and so can look forward to living their lives alone own Death Row, able to call to one another but only rarely actually seeing  their comrades’ faces.

Enter a grad student (Merritt Wever) who convinces the prison administration to allow her to hold classes for the three.  During these sessions — ostensibly about women’s studies and other topics — the inmates talk about their lives with Charles Manson.  These scenes unfold in flashbacks.

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Judi Dench

“RED JOAN” My rating: B

104 minutes | MPAA rating: R

History is rarely kind to traitors. But even a Benedict Arnold has his reasons.

“Red Joan” is a heavily fictionalized version of the real-life story of the late Melita Norwood, who in the post-war years passed on Britain’s nuclear secrets to the Soviet Union.

Written by Lindsay Shapero and directed by Trevor Nunn (yes, the world-famous stager of such massive theatrical hits as “Cats” and “The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby”), the film stars Dame Judi Dench as Joan Stanley, a seemingly innocuous grandmother who one day finds counterintelligence agents on her doorstep.

Interrogators present the old lady (she acts befuddled, but isn’t) with proof that a half century earlier she betrayed her country to the Russkies. The bulk of the film consists of flashbacks to Joan’s early years. In these scenes she is portrayed by Sophie Cookson, an actress who at first seems bland but ends up delivering a slow-boil performance that gets under your skin.

Naivete is young Joan’s biggest handicap.  She’s studying engineering and doing well in a mostly-male environment, but she’s also a bit backward socially. Which makes her an ideal target for a glamorous classmate, Sonya (Tereza Skrbova), a refugee from Hitler’s Germany, who cannily sucks Joan into her world of anti-authority partying.

Sonya introduces Joan to her cousin Leo (Tom Hughes), an outspoken lefty who becomes the girl’s first lover. She is at first amused by his rabble-rousing oratory, but his favorable view of the Soviet Union begins to rub off on her.

Later, when Joan becomes part of the team developing an atomic bomb, Leo will wheedle and coax until Joan begins surreptitiously photographing top secret documents and passing them on to a Soviet agent.

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Steve Bannon

“THE BRINK” My rating: B (Now at the Screenland Tapcade)

91 minutes | No MPAA rating

Most liberals, it’s safe to say, would rather endure three hours of oral surgery than spend 90 minutes with Steve Bannon,  alt-right Sith lord and mastermind behind the Trump presidential campaign.

They ignore Bannon at their own peril.

For “The Brink” filmmaker Alison Klayman (“Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry”) spent nearly a year following the post-White House Bannon, eavesdropping as he continues his quest for economic nationalism. Bannon has expanded his ambitions beyond the U.S., becoming a force in the right-wing politics of several nations where he advocates the return of “old-school Christian democracy rooted in the European tradition.”

It’s worrisome.

“The Brink,” a title obviously chosen for its ominous implications, falls well short of the hatchet job liberals might desire.  For one thing, Bannon can be charmingly self-deprecating. He laughs at the scruffy, overweight image he often presents (“a gross-looking Jabba the Hutt drunk”) and is a quick-witted and compelling speaker (providing, of course, you appreciate his message).

Despite his reputation, Bannon is never caught doing or saying anything overtly racist.  He claims that economic nationalism binds all Americans together, and that it trumps all issues of race, religion, sex, or sexual orientation. He blames America’s industrial elites for abandoning all civic conscience and chasing money by shipping jobs abroad. On that last point he sounds not unlike the Democratic Party’s neo-lefties.

He says  there was no glamor in working for the White House, claiming to have hated every moment of his tenure. Churches have a positive energy, he claims, while a Jersey strip club has another kind of energy.  “The West Wing has bad karma…because you’re doing evil stuff. I thought I was doing the Lord’s work.”

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Juli Jakab

“SUNSET” My rating: B 

142 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Hungarian filmmaker Laszlo Nemes, who burst upon the world scene a couple of years back with the harrowing concentration camp drama “Son of Saul,” steps even further back in time with his sophomore effort, “Sunset.”

Shortly before the outbreak of the first world war, Irisz Leiter (Juli Jakab) returns to Budapest, where she was orphaned at the age of two.  Her goal is to get a job at the famous hat store founded by her late parents and which still bears her family  name..

Her return to the city of her birth sets off a series of puzzling and threatening events. Brill (Vlad Ivanov), the courtly current owner of Leiter’s, gives her a job making hats and seems  benevolent if businesslike. But Irisz starts getting odd vibes about the other young women working there, some of whom have disappeared with little trace.

A scary man appears in Irisz’s bedroom to threaten her; she learns that she has an older brother of whom she has been unaware, a notorious criminal leading a deadly anarchist gang.  In fact, this mystery sibling already has staged an assassination attempt on Brill.

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Ruth Westheimer…despite her gesture here, she maintains size doesn’t matter

“ASK DR. RUTH” My rating: B

100 minutes | No MPAA rating

It’s easy enough to view Ruth Westheimer as a punchline.

Over nearly  40 years she has become a sort of self-caricature, employing a chatty-grandma persona and a thick German accent to dispense sex advice which coming from anyone else would turn your ears a flaming red. (“I’m not tall and blonde and gorgeous,”  acknowledges the 4-foot-7-inch dynamo.)

The great value of “Ask Dr. Ruth,” Ryan White’s insightful and informative doc, lies not so much in rehashing her public career as in exploring the personal history that has molded the now-90-year-old “happy Munchkin of sex.”

Born to doting Jewish parents in Frankfurt, Germany, Ruth (that’s her middle name…she was born Karola Ruth Siegel) was only 10 when she was sent to neutral Switzerland where she and other Jewish children were housed (and made to work) in an orphanage. Initially she exchanged weekly letters with her parents; after a few months the letters stopped coming.

White (perhaps best known for “The Keepers,” a Netflix documentary miniseries about the decades-old murder of a  young nun) relates key moments from Ruth’s childhood through somber animated sequences and, of course, the memories of Dr. Ruth.

After the war she moved to a kibbutz in Palestine where she served as a sniper (“Thank God I never had to shoot anybody”), nearly lost both legs in a bomb blast and married an Israeli freedom fighter. She followed him to Paris where he studied medicine; when he dropped out and returned home, the newly-divorced Ruth stayed on to study at the Sorbonne.

Husband No. 2 was an impossibly handsome Frenchman who took her to the United States. That marriage ended, she says, because she realized there wasn’t much intellect behind the good looks.

On a ski trip to northern New York she met engineer Manfred Westheimer, the love of her life. They moved into a New York apartment (she still lives there), had two children and enjoyed a long and apparently blissful marriage until his death in 1997.

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Elisabeth Moss

“HER SMELL” My rating: B-

134 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Elisabeth Moss so desperately throws herself into every role that even in a mediocre movie she’s worth watching.

In “Her Smell,” writer/director Alex Ross Perry’s study of a female rock star in terrifying decline, that means spending 90 minutes watching Moss sneer, spit, snarl and growl her way into near-psychosis.  It’s almost too much.

Moss plays Becky Something, the singer-guitarist-songwriter of an all-female rock trio. The other members are bassist Marielle Hell (Agyness Deyn) and drummer Ali (Gayle Rankin), and we first find them on the stage of a mid-size auditorium wrapping up a guitar-screeching, throat-scraping set.

The setting is the pre-digital ’80s and the music, punkish hair and costuming suggest the early days of Seattle grunge…in fact, the film could very well have been inspired by Courtney Love and her all-woman band Live.

Once backstage Becky refuels  her performance high with booze and drugs and a fuck-you attitude.

She keeps on hand a couple of chanting shamans, latter-day hippies who serve as her spiritual advisers and have the unenviable task of keeping Becky grounded. Clearly they’re not very good at their job.

In this first segment — which like the other scenes plays out in real time — our heroine careens around like a ricocheting bullet.

She’s visited by her ex-husband Danny (Dan Stevens) who brings along their infant daughter so Becky can see the kid before leaving on a European tour. He seems like a decent guy, but Becky has nothing but contempt for him.

The band’s long-suffering manager, Howard (Eric Stoltz), reveals that he’s gone deep into hock underwriting Becky’s misadventures; before the evening is out he will announce that the European tour is off.

Throughout, Perry’s camera (the cinematographer is Sean Price Williams) takes a fly-on-the-wall, damn-near cinema verite approach, observing but not commenting.

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Lily James, Tessa Thompson

“LITTLE WOODS” My rating: B-

105 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Little Woods,” writer/director Nia DaCosta’s feature debut, unfolds in the barren wastes of North Dakota, where the dull landscape feels like a reflection of its inhabitant’s desperate lives.

Ollie (Tessa Thompson) is living in the house where her mother recently died. On probation after being caught crossing the Canadian border with a backpack full of oxy, she now scratches out a living selling coffee and sandwiches to oil drilling crews.  She also takes in laundry.

Her empathetic probation officer (Lance Reddick) is encouraging (“You’re so close…please stay out of trouble”) but Ollie finds herself being pulled back into the drug trade.

The problem is her adopted sister Deb (Lillie James), a former exotic dancer who lives in an RV with her son Johnny (Charlie Ray Reid).  Deb excels at making dumb choices.

Johnny’s dad, Ian (James Badge Dale), is a well-meaning loser who lives in a sparse motel room.  He can’t support his wife and son; even worse, he’s gotten Deb pregnant again.

Now the bank has come calling to repossess their late mother’s house. Ollie has a week to come up with a $3,000 payment and the only way to do that is to dig up the cache of drugs she buried in the woods and start selling.

The downbeat tale, enhanced immeasurably by Thompson’s thoughtful/heartfelt performance, finds Ollie sucked into yet another mission into Canada planned by her former drug-running boss (Joe Stevens).  She’s to pick up a load of drugs from a Canuck pharmacy and walk them through the woods back to the U.S.

She also brings along Deb and Johnny so that her sister can buy a forged medical card and get an abortion.

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Bryn Vale, Taylor Schilling

“FAMILY” My rating: C 

85 minutes | MPAA rating: R

A misanthropic adult gets saddled with a troubled kid. Against all odds they teach each other to love.

That stock plot has been resurrected to no particular payoff with Laura Steinel’s “Family,” a film neither funny enough or empathetic enough to leave a lasting impression.

Kate (“Orange is the New Black’s” Taylor Schilling) is, to put it bluntly, a miserable excuse for a human being. She’s blunt to the point of cruelty, indifferent to others’ feelings, and fiercely competitive.  She lives for her job at a hedge fund and hasn’t had a true relationship with another person for years.

And then the kid-hating workaholic finds herself babysitting her niece Maddie (Bryn Vale), a moody, unhappy kid trying to cope with her outsider status.  Maddie’s parents leave Kate with instructions to not only care for their daughter for a couple of days, but to buy her a prom dress and see that she goes to the big dance.

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Ethan Hawke, Noomi Rapace

“STOCKHOLM” My rating: B- 

92 minutes | MPAA rating: R

On a sunny day in 1973 a man wearing a ridiculous disguise — black leather jacket with a Texas flag on the back, cowboy boots and hat, long-haired wig and sunglasses — walks into a Stockholm bank, pulls a machine gun from his bag, has everyone lie down and tunes a portable radio to a Bob Dylan song.

So begins Robert Budreau’s “Stockholm,” a riff on a real 1973 incident in which a couple of not-terribly-bright lowlifes held a handful of bank employees hostage for several days before finally being overwhelmed by the cops.  To survive their ordeal the hostages bonded with their captors…a situation now described by the term “Stockholm syndrome.”

The idiot in the cowboy getup is Kaj, and he’s portrayed by Ethan Hawke with a curious sort of dim-bulb charisma. Waffling between cockiness and panic, he demands that the authorities free his best bud Gunnar (Mark Strong) from prison and deliver him to the bank.

Kai also wants $1 million and a Ford Mustang getaway car…he specifies that it be just like the one Steve McQueen drove in ” Bullitt.”

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Jessie Ross, Robert Pattinson

“HIGH LIFE” My rating: C

113 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Claire Denis’ “High Life” takes place almost exclusively on a spaceship millions of miles from Earth and heading toward a black hole.

Those expecting a high-tech geek out should curb their expectations. This is outer space on a limited budget.

The interior of the ship resembles nothing so much as a suburban office park fallen on hard times; even the computers seem early 2000s.  We get only a couple of glimpses of the craft from the outside, and it looks like box.  Once in a very rare while a character pulls on a space suit, but mostly they wander around in red/orange prison-type jumpsuits.

Which is only fitting, since they are all condemned criminals — though we don’t learn that until later on (“High Life” is maddeningly reluctant to give up its secrets…most of the characters don’t even have names). Apparently these travelers were given a chance to leave prison and go on an intergalactic adventure.

As the film begins Monte (Robert Pattinson) is sharing the craft with a baby girl he calls Willow.  The rest of the crew are MIA (at one point he jettisons a few corpses) and Monte has his hands full feeding an infant (there’s a misty greenhouse on board that grows food) and fixing the ship’s systems as they fail. To the extent possible under the circumstances he’s a good father — cuddling and talking to the baby.

The film then flashes back to earlier in the voyage.  Monte and a half dozen other inmates take their orders from Dibs (Juliette Binoche), a lab-coated doctor who is, in a very real sense, a mad scientist.  We never do learn what the mission is about, but Dibs has highjacked it for her own science project.  She seems to have been driven mad by her inability to conceive, and she’s hatching a plot to breed her minions, who spend much of their time drugged into complacency.

Oh, yeah,  there’s also a pleasure room onboard where the residents can go for mechanically-stimulated sexual release. Romantic it isn’t.

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