Stepping away from serious business (and the lucrative world of Robert Langdon) for a spell, Ron Howard mounts his first comedy in over a decade with “The Dilemma.” True to form, it’s really not much of a comedy at all. Though crudely marketed as a slapstick bonanza to put butts in seats, the picture is a far more peculiar machine of anxiety, flavored with only a light dusting of the funny stuff. Howard’s not drilling to the root of infidelity here, but he touches on delicate relationship issues, providing a fascinating, unexpected personality to the picture.

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“The Green Hornet” is a beloved superhero franchise that has carried on triumphantly through the years on radio, television, and the silver screen. For its latest cinematic adaptation, the material confronts its greatest challenge: Seth Rogen. The giggly, goofy actor takes an implausible leap into big screen heroics; however, his “Green Hornet” is far from a stone-faced urban savior with a thirst for justice. Here, Rogen plays the masked avenger as a boob, though a financially powerful, easily impressed boob. His instincts to turn the role into comedy serve him well, making his “Green Hornet” a screwy addition to the parade of stern superhero releases.

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As an actor, Paul Giamatti has remained predictable, at least for the majority of his career. Blessed with a certain carriage of rumpled intensity, his roles have gravitated toward men of rage or duplicity, often embodying eye-bulging discontent. However, when the actor finds a special role that demands dimension and an overall throttling of disease, Giamatti is unstoppable. “Barney’s Version” offers such a challenge, gifting Giamatti a role of immense depth and mystery to explore in this outstanding, unpredictable drama.

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It’s difficult to take Nicolas Cage seriously these days. The former madman has been forced into a series of paycheck gigs for reasons obvious to anyone enjoying access to the internet, with “Season of the Witch” a solid representation of Cage’s new career direction. Unchallenged and over-wigged, the actor is merely biding his time with this serving of horror hooey, obviously more interested in hearing the sweet sound of “cut!” than trying to make a tepid screenplay shuffle with restless energy Cage is more than capable of summoning. The material needed his special sauce. Instead, Cage barely raises an eyebrow.

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Writer/director Shana Feste aims to pattern her latest film, “Country Strong,” after the tragic love songs of the enduring musical genre. What she comes up with is far more clunky and unimaginative, scripting an intolerable Lifetime Movie-style excursion into the gloomy recesses of fame, making a complete fool out of a confident actress. “Country Strong” is excruciating to watch at times; a wholly embarrassing enterprise that renders country music insufferable, keeps Gwyneth Paltrow in an irritating state of teary distress, and makes one long for the same numbing cell of bottle-clutching isolation that alcoholism gifts to the lead character.

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“The Way Back” features more walking than I’ve ever seen from a film. Combine all three “Lord of the Rings” pictures, and there’s still less arduous trekking than found in this movie. It’s a true-life tale of endurance and unimaginable distance brought to the screen by filmmaker Peter Weir, who captures the agony and companionship of life on the move, where a group of strangers faced the fight of their life hiking through debilitating environmental challenges.

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Like any dependable Mike Leigh picture, “Another Year” leisurely reveals its secrets. It’s a glacial feature representing the passage of time, observing a single year in the life of a dangerously functional couple and their troubled friends and family. It’s not a film of direct conflict or suspense, but one that nurtures a sinking feeling of unease and sadness, watching as some of these characters fall deeper into hopelessness, almost to spite the happiness around them.

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Charting the origin and termination of a volatile relationship, “Blue Valentine” elects to carry intense dramatic weight through improvisation, capturing the authenticity of the moment by allowing the actors to feel out the perimeter of their characters. The effect can be wearisome, clouding the intriguing atmosphere of the film, stealing attention away from the fractured essence of the piece so actors can flail about, killing vital intimacy by being so aware of the camera.

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Perhaps I’m not up on my Jonathan Swift as well as I should be, but was there actually a scene in the novel, “Gulliver’s Travels,” where our titular hero, after spotting an inferno raging in the heart of the Lilliput kingdom, decides the only act of firefighting he’s capable of is to urinate all over the building and surrounding Lilliputians, creating a drippy, yellow mess? A climatic musical number where Gulliver leads the Lilliputians in a hopping rendition of Edwin Starr’s “War”? A scene where a Lilliputian soldier is accidentally plunged into Gulliver’s anal cavity after the giant is knocked to the ground?

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