Wes Anderson has a specialized way of making movies, and he’s more than welcome to remain in his corner of idiosyncrasy because, well, he’s an outstanding filmmaker. Paying homage to the kid-lit books of yesteryear, “Moonrise Kingdom” is yet another cinematic trophy for Anderson’s crowded shelf of accomplishments — an enormously lovely, hilarious, evocative adventure as viewed through the director’s prism of handmade splendor. Through repetition, Anderson has fine-tuned his vision, developing his habits and art of microscopic detailing to create a rich symphony of textures. “Moonrise Kingdom” also plugs into the glow of adolescent emotion with startling accuracy, keeping the picture gentle but also edgy, finding a tone of discovery that’s as potent for the characters as it is for the audience.

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Firstly, yes, “Prometheus” is a prequel to “Alien.” 20th Century Fox has played coy with the pre-release details for a reason, hoping to create generous buzz and a bit of mystery surrounding a sensitive production. Unfortunately, it’s not an especially satisfying prequel to “Alien,” doing away with the original’s spare sense of terror and exposure to play this sci-fi world as a blunt instrument, hitting the viewer in the face with crude violence and spotty philosophy. While the return of director Ridley Scott to the franchise he originally shaped should be cause for celebration, yet the master visualist can’t find a perfect posture for material that teases the good stuff and embellishes the routine. “Prometheus” isn’t nearly as cinematically daring and intellectually stimulating as the filmmakers seem to think it is.

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As a filmgoer, it’s been a thrill to see the “Madagascar” series develop with each installment, culminating in “Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted,” which is by far the best picture of the franchise and continues Dreamworks Animation’s renaissance of quality product. Ditching most of the heartfelt pit stops that marked the previous features to race forward as a farce, the movie is grand family entertainment with substantial laughs and a thoughtful use of 3D, keeping the visuals and the punchlines flying fast as our animated heroes face an unstoppable enemy and find themselves lured into the majesty of the afro circus.

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Sarah Polley is a fine actress and a promising director (2006’s “Away from Her”), but her latest work as a filmmaker, “Take This Waltz,” is a frustrating creative step backwards. A story of hidden desires and brutal honesty, Polley takes on the enduring temptation of marital infidelity, or at least the consideration of such a brash endeavor, but approaches this critical dilemma of longing in a most unnatural manner, ornamenting the feature with quirks and indie music to set an artificial mood for an effort of supposed intimacy. While emotionally crippling in spurts, “Take This Waltz” remains frustratingly distant and processed, as though Polley couldn’t decide what type of characters she wanted to discover or what type of story to tell. For a picture of extreme concentration on a singular event, it feels hopelessly scattered and inconsequential.

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Jane Fonda doesn’t make very many movies, with “Peace, Love & Misunderstanding” her first effort in four years. It’s a shame she doesn’t work more, because her veteran spirit is sorely needed for situations like this, where the script falls flat, the rest of the performances drag along the ground, and the direction is more permissive than authoritative. Fonda’s the only reason to sit through the lifelessness of the picture, with her thespian spark adding enormous verve to an otherwise tedious and formulaic multi-generational drama with a serious hippie spin. I can’t imagine what a bore “Peace, Love & Misunderstanding” would be without her presence.

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There’s something far more interesting to the pairing of Ernest Hemingway and Martha Gellhorn than the HBO production, “Hemingway & Gellhorn,” dares to express. A twosome drawn together by mutual interests in war and life experiences, the couple’s barbed interplay hints at a great emotional displeasure barely contained by raw physical attraction and gender power moves common to the WWII era. Overlong and undercooked, “Hemingway & Gellhorn” does feature two compelling performances from Nicole Kidman and Clive Owen, but a flavorful understanding of this relationship never emerges. Despite a globetrotting atmosphere of world history and lustful motivation, director Philip Kaufman falls short of a fulfilling screen investigation.

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It’s not like Alexandre Aja’s 2010 remake of “Piranha” was rocket science, but the production managed to create something ridiculous that felt like an invitation to a big screen party, slathered with gore, populated by gifted actors, and mindful of all the exploitation elements that make the genre such a riot. Aja had topless women performing an underwater 3D ballet, “Piranha 3DD” director John Gulager offers a David Hasselhoff cameo. It doesn’t take a genius to view this miserable sequel as one giant step backwards in terms of creative ambition and viewer satisfaction. Although filmed in 3D, the extra dimension in “Piranha 3DD” is the crushing wave of disappointment smacking the viewer roughly two minutes into the picture when Gulager’s toxic moviemaking touch is revealed in full, captured in a moment where the corpse of a cow farts out a piranha egg. It’s going to be a long 70 minutes (82 minutes with end credits).

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“Crooked Arrows” is a film I wanted to like, came close to enjoying, but was consistently pulled away by some poor storytelling decisions. It’s one of the first movies to concentrate solely on the game of lacrosse, a sport that’s grown in popularity in recent years after spending centuries as an activity for Native American cultures, where it’s known as “The Creator’s Game.” It’s a highly entertaining, fast-paced sport that deserves a better onscreen celebration than “Crooked Arrows,” which slaps around every cliché imaginable, looking to win over the audience through the comfort of familiarity. It has charm and a refreshing cultural perspective, but the predictability is often too much to bear, tanking the potential for a proper big screen exploration of lacrosse.

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Now here’s a gem from Australia that took its time reaching American multiplexes. “The Loved Ones” was unleashed in its native land all the way back in 2010, only now finding a limited release to gradually ease audiences into this dark story of torture and adolescent urges. While the picture is vicious, it’s also sharply crafted, superbly performed, and legitimately suspenseful, making it one of the few highlights in a genre not known for filmmaking effort. It’s not a movie for every taste, but those with a fondness for cinematic evildoing might find themselves richly entertained by this macabre feature, which somehow manages the finer points of grief and festering wounds with exceptional directorial skill.

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A few months ago, there was “Mirror Mirror,” a fantasy confection that endeavored to turn the “Snow White” fable into a highly stylized circus act with lousy punchlines. While bearable, it wasn’t remarkable. Curiously, movie two in this cinematic fairy tale war, “Snow White and the Huntsman,” takes the opposite storytelling approach, treating the material like it’s dragging a corpse across a fantasyland of doom. The rival “White” is an intentionally joyless creation, investing in a grim atmosphere of murder, sexual perversity, and medieval combat. However, the dwarfs remain, keeping the uneventful effort gasping for gulps of oxygen while it’s being smothered in anger. The producers are obviously trying to butch up an age-old saga of purity and romance, yet by elongating the plot, the filmmakers have inadvertently revealed the source material’s limitations.

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“Hysteria” is about the invention of the vibrator. Now that’s an invitation for either a cheeky exploration of sex toy history or a brave offering a drama, willing to plunge into a most extraordinary area of expertise to bring knowledge to the masses. Unfortunately, “Hysteria” doesn’t head in any extreme direction, with the movie attempting to shape itself into a romantic comedy of sorts, ruining the potential fun. Lively moments and some sly wit aside, the feature has a nasty habit of getting in its own way, halting the flow of astonishing medical reality and mischievous discoveries to play everything conventional, which is perhaps the least effective approach for a picture about the creation of the vibrator to take.

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We’re in the midst of a trend in horror movies, with producers scrambling to cash in on “Paranormal Activity” fever, furthering the use of the “found footage” technique to generate realism while adhering to pure formula. “Apartment 143” is a rather unabashed rip-off of “Activity,” but a film that works to unearth its own identity as a psychological study of supernatural chaos, rather than simply erecting another haunted house viewing experience. The concept has potential, but the picture is lackluster and, at times, completely absurd. Trying to overthink a ghost story, “Apartment 143” goes from appealing to ridiculous in a hurry, saved slightly by a handful of good frights.

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Branding itself as “based on a true story,” “For Greater Glory” appears more interested in offering every cheap cinematic trick in the book. An overwrought, overlong recreation of the Cristero War, the movie eschews essential details of time and location to fetishize violence as a way to celebrate faith. Not that Catholicism has ever shied away from elaborate acts of pain and suffering, yet “For Greater Glory” doesn’t have the benefit of good taste, or filmmaking clarity for that matter, laboring over death and devastation as a way to keep viewers glued to their seats. Treating the conflict with the complexity it deserves is a foreign concept to this production, which takes its cues from the Mel Gibson School of Screen Martyrdom, making sure this education on Mexican history carries significant ugliness.

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