When the ride comes to an end

      There are big deaths (you know the one I'm talking about) and smaller losses, those that challenge the way we view ourselves  — debilitating illness, retirement or some other life-altering change of circumstances.

     In Jockey, Clifton Collins Jr. plays a jockey facing such a moment. Along with aging, a variety of injuries have taken their toll on his body and on his psyche. He no longer rides without fear. And if he can’t ride, what’s left?

     Collins's Jackson mostly plies his trade for Ruth (Molly Parker), a trainer with whom he's developed a kind of  partnership. The know how to read each other.

Collins conveys the mix of will and doubt that besets Jackson as he tries to push beyond his limits. He fights to lose weight, checks his hand for trembles, and forces himself to continue his training.

    Bentley cast real jockeys in some of the movie's roles, a decision that enhances the movie's sense of authenticity, a feeling for the routine of track life, alternating moments of drudgery and beauty.

    When the jockeys share stories, we realize that they've all suffered injuries but none of them wants to abandon the rush that accompanies the opening the starting gate.

    To round out the story, Bentley -- who co-wrote the screenplay with Greg Kwedar -- introduces an aspiring young rider (Moises Arias) who turns up claiming that he's Jackson's son from a long-forgotten dalliance. 

    The character also serves a thematic function, offering Jackson an opportunity to pass the torch to another generation while also sounding a cautionary note. Arias' Gabriel might be looking at Jackson as more than a possible father; he could represent the young man's future.

    Jockey may put Collins into the forefront after a career of character acting but even if it doesn't, it provides him with a well-deserved showcase.

    Credit Bentley for avoiding a big-race finale. Instead, he opts for a poignant look at what it means for a man to accept his fate and let go of the thing he prizes most.

Another YA weepie hits the screen

I learned something about cystic fibrosis watching Five Feet Apart, a YA weepie that follows in the footsteps of The Fault in Our Stars. But aside from information gleaned about the disease and empathy generated for those who suffer from it, I was left with another yawn of a young adult romance, this one about a love that can't be consummated: Fear of infection keeps two hospitalized young lovers from being able to touch each other. Sparked by a bubbly performance by Haley Lu Richardson , the movie never really conquers the formula that dominates it. As the over-organized Stella, Richardson paints a portrait of a normal teen in every respect save one: She has a terrible disease. After the two principals -- the other is played by Cole Sprouse of TV's Riverdale -- pass through the obligatory irritation stage, they fall in love. This being YA fiction, bases must be touched: You probably won't be surprised to learn that Stella is given a wise-cracking gay pal (Moises Arias). Director James Baldoni occasionally delivers emotional realism but the screenplay builds toward a melodramatic finale that either will have you reaching for a handkerchief or recoiling at its undisguised manipulations -- or maybe both.

Boys seek indepedence in the woods

The Kings of Summer doesn't quite rule, but it has its charms.

Every summer, a small movie looks as if it's poised to be the season's sleeper hit. Put The Kings of Summer into that aspirational category, but don't bet the rent that it will fulfill any record-breaking ambitions.

That's not to say that The Kings of Summer -- the story of three teen-agers who leave home and build a ramshackle cabin in the woods -- is charmless, but rather to caution that
the movie's overall impact matches its modesty.

Besides, it must mean something that the most interesting performance in this movie about teen rebellion is given by Nick Offerman, an adult best known for his work on NBC's Parks and Recreation. Offerman's deadpan style, wry delivery and willingness to portray a less-than-admirable dad helps spike the movie's adolescent punch.

It's just that kind of mildly mordant touch that keeps Kings of Summer from falling into a sink pit of teen-movie cliches.

The movie begins in earnest when 15-year-old Joe (Nick Robinson) gets crosswise with his dad during an aggressively competitive Monopoly game. We understand why Joe and his dad channel emotion into Monopoly. They're both having a rough go after the death of Joe's mother.

Joe's embittered dad slams the boy with withering verbal assaults, delivered without inflection by Offerman who knows how to play a guy who's fed up with life and seems to expect nothing much from it.

What's an aggrieved 15-year-old to do? Joe decides to round up a buddy and head for the woods. He convinces his friend Patrick (Gabriel Basso) to join him. Patrick is eager to escape the clutches of his self-absorbed parents (an amusing Megan Mullally and Marc Evan Jackson).

Another youngster, the oddball Biaggio (Moises Arias) worms his way into the group, providing what every movie about teen-agers needs: the unashamedly weird kid.

Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts, working from a screenplay by Chris Galletta, finds humor in the fact that the boys aren't natural woodsmen. When they hunt for food, a self-sufficiency pledge goes by the boards: It doesn't hurt that the boys' foray into the wilderness takes place within walking distance of a chicken restaurant. So much for living off the land.

The alliance between buddies is challenged when Patrick and Joe square off in the game of love. Joe has a crush on Kelly (Erin Moriarty). She likes Joe, but might be more inclined toward Patrick. When Kelly shows up, the boyhood paradise begins to crumble, something we knew would happen all along, possibly because the house the boys build looks as if it's been engineered for collapse.

The young actors give strong performances, and Vogt-Roberts makes room for a couple of scenes in which the boys get in touch with their primal selves.

It's a bit of a stretch to believe that three kids could pull off this kind of disappearing act, but unless they do, there's no movie. And maybe Vogt-Roberts means to suggest that, to some degree, the adults are allowing these kids room to fail.

Whatever its deficiencies, Kings of Summer earns points for understanding what it's like to be 15 and fed up with life at home -- but not entirely prepared to leave it.