A good year for women on film, as exemplified in new releases The Eyes of My Mother, Miss Sloane, and more
Matthew Lickona 5 p.m., Dec. 9
In an overlong prologue, a generic fairy-tale princess, rendered in a pastiche of old-time Disney animation, is dispatched by a generic wicked witch to "a place where there are no happily-ever-afters," namely modern-day Manhattan in live action, whither she's soon followed by her betrothed prince, a CG chipmunk, and a witch's minion. The slothful working-out of this inspiration should pass as sophisticated among grade-schoolers. And maybe once in a while among grown-ups. (With a song, the princess rallies pigeons, sewer rats, and cockroaches to help with the domestic chores.) Amy Adams, far from the most plasticky actress, maintains a plucky air of innocence bordering on Blanche Du Bois delusion. With Patrick Dempsey, James Marsden, Timothy Spall, and Susan Sarandon; directed by Kevin Lima. 2007.