There is a kind of achievement in (graphically) depicting a sexual relationship between an adult man (Alexander Skarsgard) and his girlfriend's 15-year-old daughter (Bel Powley) in a way that makes it feel neither predatory nor twisted, just oddly matter-of-fact. Whether it is a thing worth achieving is another question. The matter-of-factness likely has something to do with the fact that the adults — both Mom and boyfriend — are little more than children themselves, all but blind to anything beyond their own immediate needs and sorrows. Hey man, it's San Francisco in the '70s: drugs are plentiful, morals are square, and pleasure is pleasure. He likes having sex with her; she likes having sex with him, what's the harm? She also likes having sex in general — huzzah for female agency? — at least until love starts making things sticky. Funny how that happens. To keep the proceedings from pure conventionality amid the fleshy awakenings, we get flashes of animated artistry, sprung from our heroine's imagination and bound for the pages of her underground comic. Directed with assurance by first-time Marielle Heller, who also adapted the screenplay from Phoebe Gloeckner's novel. With Kristen Wiig. (2015) — Matthew Lickona