‘BLACK BAG’: Move over Mr. and Mrs. Smith, there’s a new sexy spy couple steaming up the silver screen, courtesy of Steven Soderbergh. Say hello to George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) and Kathryn St. Jean (Cate Blanchett). In this thrillingly twisty romantic drama inspired by John le Carré, their chemistry might be cerebral, but it is no less carnal. “Black Bag” is the story of how married spies stay married, which involves a lot of trust, a lot of mutual surveillance, and a “till death do us part” level of loyalty that extends beyond the job. “That’s hot,” gasps underling Clarissa Dubose (Marisa Abela), who has found herself entrenched in George and Kathryn’s strange web of deceit and devotion. “Black Bag” opens and closes with a high-stakes dinner party game, in which we witness how George carefully extracts the truth from his targets, and how incestuously interwoven their little group of colleagues and collaborators has become, in both matters of the heart and matters of international terrorism plots. “Black Bag” may be rooted in the mind, but it is inextricably connected to the heart, especially in matters of love and trust, betrayal and murder. That’s what makes a Soderbergh genre exercise such a deliciously satisfying cinematic morsel: It is pure fun, but also deeply layered with larger existential themes, making for a delightful romantic spy drama that cannot be missed. 1:33. 4 stars. — Katie Walsh, Tribune News Service

‘LAST BREATH’: There’s an enduring appeal to the survival thriller. Stories of daring adventure, freak accidents and the sheer endurance required to survive are reminders of the resilience of the human spirit. But in “Last Breath,” a new film based on the true story of a 2012 diving accident in the North Sea, the humanity of the story is subtly pitched against something more threatening to life itself: mechanized automation. “Last Breath” is directed by Alex Parkinson, who co- directed the 2019 documentary of the same name about the same event. In 2012, a team of saturation divers in the North Sea, off the coast of Scotland, were repairing underground oil rigging when one of the diver’s “umbilical” cables snapped in rough weather, stranding him on the seabed, 300 feet underwater, with only a few minutes of backup oxygen. This sturdy, solid thriller underscores that at their core, survival stories are always stories of humanity’s best, and the impossible things we can achieve when we work together. 1:33. 3 stars. — Katie Walsh

‘MICKEY 17’: Set 29 years from now, writer-director Bong Joon Ho’s “Mickey 17” imagines a world beyond ours because Earth isn’t worth the trouble anymore. Failed politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo) gains a new lease on his career by leading a cultlike space colonization mission to the icy planet Niflheim. And there they are: Niflheim’s mysterious, oversized, toothy bugs, the native life forms of indeterminate hostility, nicknamed “creepers” by the visiting humans. The human at the center of “Mickey 17” is Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), a genial sad-sack who has volunteered for the mission because loan sharks are trying to kill him on Earth, along with his dubious friend (Steven Yeun). As an Expendable, Mickey takes the single lowest rung on the job ladder. He’s a human guinea pig on a “Groundhog Day” sort of work schedule: In the interest of science, Expendables are exposed to various lethal threats, poison gas or radiation, etc. Mickey dies many times, and then is reborn. A new body, just like Mickey’s old one, comes out of a reprinting machine, with all his memories and features intact. The technology making this possible, along with some unauthorized cloning, has caused a bit of a fuss back on Earth — but off-Earth? Not a problem. No federal oversight to worry about. The equipment on the spaceship may be a little wonky — in one of the film’s better running gags, the human reprinter machine clearly needs some oiling, and makes noises like a 2003-era Hewlett Packard paper printer — but for Mickey, it’s a living. Dying, but a living. 2:17. 2 1/2 stars. — Michael Phillips, Chicago Tribune

‘NOVOCAINE’: It hurts seeing “Novocaine” squander a promising setup, with an unusually effective depiction of a romance in its first-date stage. The movie’s star, Jack Quaid, plays Nate, who has lived a cautious, hermetic life given his condition known as congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis. CIPA, as we learn from “Novocaine’s” somewhat fanciful idea of the particulars, has the enormous downside of messing with his awareness if he happens to injure himself and not see or feel the effects in time to prevent serious trouble. He’s hardly immortal. So Nathan lays low out of habit, dating little and gaming much. (Jacob Batalon gets an enjoyable turn as Nate’s online fellow gamer.) At the San Diego credit union where Nate works as junior manager, co- worker Sherry, played by Amber Midthunder, seems at least half as sweet on him as Nate feels about her. This may be grade inflation, since nobody seems to write first-date sequences with anything like a human pulse anymore, but “Novocaine” does a deft job with their budding attraction. It takes its time, establishes a few things and finds ways to make Nate and Sherry likable. By the end of “Novocaine,” it’s as if the filmmakers — who have talent and who are now off and running in a commercial sense — forgot how their movie started: with Quaid and Midthunder getting the material and the screen time needed to hook an audience’s interest, before the jocular sadism commenced in earnest. 1:50. 2 stars. — Michael Phillips

‘OPUS’: Cultlike celebrities of a certain size sometimes cross the line between unsettling narcissism and unsettling narcissism with top notes of pathology. This may not be news, even if they make the news fairly regularly, but the frustrating new film “Opus” treats the toxic intersection of fame and infamy as a big reveal unto itself. Premise: After a nearly 30-year hiatus shrouded in mystery, the ’90s pop legend known throughout the world as Moretti has produced his magnum opus, an album so major it’s almost too special for human ears. Moretti launches this album by way of a lavish but exclusive junket held at his remote Southwestern compound, which is staffed by serenely puttering acolytes in thrall to the Scientology-esque religion Moretti subscribes to, known as Leveling. (His followers are Levelists.) The half-dozen who were lucky enough to be invited include five media poseurs Moretti has known a while, including the sycophantic editor of a Rolling Stone- type music magazine. It’s a familiar setup by now: take a swank, remote compound, add an ultra-exclusive guest list and an escalating barrage of bloodletting, a la “The Menu.” “Opus” has its moments. But even the surprises aren’t especially surprising. 1:43. 2 stars. — Michael Phillips

RATINGS: The movies listed are rated according to the following key: 4 stars, excellent; 3 stars, good; 2 stars, fair; 1 star, poor.