I’m not a mom, but I read enough chick lit to feel like I know what it’s like. No sleep. A constant state of semi-martyrdom. Bits of food in your hair and an overwhelming, indescribable amount of love in your heart. In that regard, “I Don’t Know How She Does It” is just another prosaic account of a mom trying her darndest and failing, but c’est la vie, etc., and so on. The film was based on the book by British novelist Allison Pearson, and because of that you get the sense that you’re getting a polished, Reader’s Digest version of the story, which is, no doubt, a little more nuanced on the …

Attention all germaphobes and hypochondriacs: Do not ... I repeat ... do not see the latest Steven Soderbergh film. You may never leave your house again. Hell, I may never leave my house again.  The opening sequence of “Contagion” alone is enough to make the most cavalier among us – you know the ones, those who eat the communal nuts at the bar or grip the subway handrail without the slightest hesitation – recoil back into our movie theatre seats and think, “Oh, God. Did I really just rest my arms on ... that?” What would happen if a highly infectious disease spread through the developed world…

For the record, “Apollo 18” is no “Apollo 13.” It doesn’t have the charm of Tom Hanks, or the pop-culture appeal of Kevin Bacon or even the calm power of an Ed Harris. I’ll just say it. It’s kind of a hot mess. An alien/horror/conspiracy theory/faux-lost-footage documentary? What the what? And yet, for all its flaws, it kind of works. I know. I’m more surprised than you. Because for all I try not to sneak a peek at the reviews prior to my viewing experience – lest an unwanted metaphor burrow its way into brain – I did see enough of the “Apollo 18” reviews to brace myself for the worst. Maybe …

Shove off, Edward Cullen. Go drink some synthetic blood, Anna Paquin’s boyfriend.  I’ve never seen “Dark Shadows,” but with a name like Barnabas Collins, I feel confident in saying, take a hike, Barney.  Colin Farrell is officially the most smokin’ (and psychotic) vampire EVER. He also proves once and for all that being scary isn’t about being loud and screechy; it’s about smoldering.  “Fright Night” is the billionth remake this summer; the original being a 1985 cult classic starring Prince Humperdinck – I mean – Chris Sarandon, as “Jerry,” the vampire. And it wasn’t one I was particularly …

Next at bat in a long – long – queue of movie remakes this year (is it wishful thinking that “Footloose” remain on deck forever?): the motion-capture-sci-fi-action-o-rama: “Rise of the Planet of the Apes.” The film is described as a knock-off ... no wait, I’m sorry, a “reboot” of the original “Planet of the Apes” five-part series, which premiered in 1968 and starred the one, the only, Charlton Heston. Tim Burton attempted to raise some apes himself in 2001 with the help of Marky Mark Wahlberg and Helena Bonham Carter, to disastrous affect. (Dear Hollywood: Think of a new idea for once! …