This has been a long summer at the movies, and it’s barely begun. Consider War of the Worlds, based on the classic H.G. Wells novel of the same name. Director Steven Spielberg is, for my money, the greatest director of our time. So many of his movies have enhanced our lives, told great stories, and provided unforgettable moments, scenes, and characters. But this somber, depressing remake of a perfectly acceptable 1953 science-fiction thriller is a chore to endure.

This is a ponderous, updated story about giant, alien, tripod fighting machines that rise from beneath the surface of the streets, zapping everything in sight. Tom Cruise portrays a small-town, working-class, divorced father trying to drive his children to Boston, a city mysteriously safe from the invasion. Cruise gives a standard performance; young Dakota Fanning, perhaps the best child actress in films, wears a terror-stricken expression through-out; and newcomer Justin Chatwin is charmless as the teenage son. Mystic River Academy Award winner Tim Robbins also shares the screen.

As long as he sticks to a script, Cruise has undeniable charisma. But he overacts, perhaps sensing that any excitement on screen will have to come from him; it certainly won’t be found in the script or in the predictable, computer-generated special effects. Thus, the Spielberg-Cruise collaboration streak continues. War of the Worlds is their second consecutive exercise in expensive pretension, following Minority Report (2002). I had more fun watching Tim Burton’s Mars Attacks! (1996).

Small-scale Cronicas, written and directed by Sebastián Cordero, stars John Leguizamo as a Spanish-speaking tabloid TV reporter who travels from Miami to Ecuador to investigate a serial killer. Early on, Leguizamo encounters a desperate father imprisoned for acciden-tally killing a young boy with his car. The reporter senses the driver has some knowledge of the serial killer. Mexican actor Damián Alcázar nearly steals the movie as the tormented driver who faces the community’s wrath, fears for his life, and realizes his only hope is to tell what he knows. The film raises the question: Who is more vicious, the criminal, society, or the media? Cronicas may not reach a large audience, but it’s a worthy, rainy-day thriller.

The Aristocrats is strictly for adults in search of vulgar, side-splitting laughter. This documentary-style film was shot on low-budget digital video by comedian/director Paul Provenza and magician/producer Penn Jillette. The camera records 100 boldname comedians, each telling the same tired Vaudeville joke. Stepping up to the challenge are jesters ranging from Don Rickles and Phyllis Diller to Whoopi Goldberg and Robin Williams. Hysterical Gilbert Gottfried’s take is the funniest of all.

The provocative and hard-hitting Hustle & Flow is set in the dreary and dangerous world of a Memphis pimp named DJay. Dreaming of a better life as a rapper, he makes a demo tape for a visiting rap star (Ludacris). The film is written and directed by Craig Brewer and financed by John Singleton, director of the landmark flick Boyz n the Hood (1991). DJay is played by Terrence Dashon Howard, most recently brilliant in HBO Films’ Lackawanna Blues. Taryn Manning gives a sardonic, world-weary performance as Nola, his principal prostitute. The movie avoids exaggerated characters and gratuitous violence. Hustle & Flow stands as one of the year’s most powerful films.

Modigliani is the long-awaited, touching biography of the tempestuous, debauched, Italian-born Jewish artist Amedeo Modigliani, who died in 1920 at age 35, on the brink of success. Andy Garcia is passionate as the soulful artist, an abuser of alcohol, drugs, and women, and plagued by tuberculosis much of his life. The film focuses on Modigliani’s star-crossed romance with the beautiful young Catholic woman Jeanne Hébuterne (portrayed by Elsa Zylberstein), with whom he fathered a child. The back-story is the shifting friendship and rivalry between Modigliani and Pablo Picasso.

Whatever convinced Academy Award-winning actress Jennifer Connelly to sign on for Dark Water remains the biggest mystery of this hackneyed thriller. The film is based on the Japanese novel by Kôji Suzuki, author of Ring, which inspired a far better movie. It was directed by Walter Salles, whose films The Motorcycle Diaries and Central Station were two of the best in recent years. This one is deadly dull.

Ms. Connelly portrays Dahlia, a single mother shaken by a custody battle and plagued by migraines. She relocates to an affordable apartment in a decaying building on Roosevelt Island. The bedroom ceiling has an odd habit of leaking and there are footsteps above, in a supposedly empty space. The super (Pete Postlethwaite) is creepy; her attorney (Tim Roth) is ineffective; and the elevators are unreliable. Dahlia is torn between protecting her daughter and following a mysterious abandoned child. John C. Reilly puts in a nice per-formance as the sleazy realtor. Dark Water, though, is shallow in the chills department.

Then there’s Fantastic Four, based on another Stan Lee comic-book series and directed by Tim Story. This is a dumb, yet entertaining film aimed at X-Men audiences. An accident on a space mission exposes four scientists to DNA-altering cosmic radiation. Leader Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffudd) becomes a body-stretching Mr. Fantastic. Sue Storm (Jessica Alba) is the elusive Invisible Woman. Her brother Johnny Storm (Chris Evans) is a flame-sprouting Human Torch. And pilot Ben Grimm (Michael Chiklis) is the “rock” man, Thing. Together, they battle the benefactor-turned-evil industrialist Dr. Victor Von Doom (Julian McMahon). Forget that the plot is a mess. This one is all special effects. Kids will love it; parents should bring their Walkman.

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