Failed artists — more specifically, failed writers — play a central role in most of Noah Baumbach’s films. In “Greenberg,” native New Yorker Baumbach embraces that failure, portraying a particular breed of Los Angeles bohemians both at the start of adulthood and at the middle-age moment they realize their lives haven’t turned out the way they planned.

Although titled “Greenberg,” Baumbach’s latest, which he scripted with his wife, Jennifer Jason Leigh, starts with Florence (Greta Gerwig), a 25-year-old singer who makes her living working as a personal assistant for the Greenbergs in the Hollywood Hills. Uninsured and paid when her employers remember, she’s one of those economically vulnerable graduates who majored in the arts.

A director-producer-writer-performer in the mumblecore movement, Gerwig is wonderful in the part. Tall and curvy, she’s at once beautiful and awkward, a real-world woman who’s easy to root for. Still exploring the role her sexuality plays in her relationships with men, Florence is direct and sympathetic.

The film is a celebration of rock music’s finest visual artists tripping out on life, one poster at a time. Music posters are hand made to promote a music gig, usually given away, pasted to a wall or stapled to telephone poles. From the moment that posters are, well, posted, they become collectable art, iconic reminders of the music and good times.
“American Artifact” starts with a look back to the idyllic ‘60s in Haight-Ashbury, San Francisco, birthplace of the modern psychedelic rock poster. There’s a tribute to Rick Griffin, featuring his beautiful font work that made him a legend, a status he shares with his comrades Stanley Mouse and Victor Moscoso.
Then it's on to punk and grunge, inside the studios of rock-poster luminaries like Frank Kozik, Winston Smith, Art Chantry, Tara McPherson and a lot of talented folks whose works you’ve seen but whose names you probably don’t know.

Born into minor German aristocracy on May 2, 1892, Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen was the most notable Flying Ace in WWI history. By the end of his life on April 21, 1918, his confirmed tally of downed aircraft marked 80, making him the supreme victor of aerial combat. Von Richthofen was also known for his brilliant air strategies and famed flying circus, both of which influence warfare today. The Freiherr, or Baron, began his career at the age of 11. By 1912, he was a Lieutenant in the cavalry. Childhood dreams and boredom in the trenches made him long to fly. In 1915, his wish came true, paving the way to Captain von Richthofen’s legendary course as The Red Baron.

Nikolai Müllerschön’s “The Red Baron” is the most recent attempt to cinematically resurrect the complex cult hero and introduce him to new generations. His ambitious, independently financed epic set against the hauntingly lush musical score of Dirk Reichardt deserves several standing ovations.

“MacGruber,” based on a recurring “SNL” sketch, is no “Wayne’s World.” But it’s not a complete dud, either — just an uneven series of slapstick jokes. In essence, the titular character (just one name, thank you) is a one-man, one-dimensional soldier-of-fortune cliché, along the lines of “MacGyver.” He can make a bomb with a tennis ball and a few other odds and ends (well, maybe) but doesn’t like to use a gun. He’s got every national honor possible and has served in pretty much every branch of the armed services. He’s also been declared dead for 10 years — ever since his arch rival, Dieter Von Cunth (played by Val Kilmer), blew up his bride-to-be at their nuptials. The primary problem with “MacGruber” is the lead, played by Will Forte, who simply has no big-screen presence, much less the kind of charismatic leadership that should come from even a fake MacGyver clone.

Jonathan Demme’s docu is a traveling exhibition of musical treasures collected over the course of Young’s career. Describing “Neil Young Trunk Show” as a “reaction” to 2006’s “Neil Young: Heart of Gold,” Jonathan Demme revisits his friend and music icon in a follow-up that departs from his original film in cinematic approach and musical style, displaying a distinctly different side to the diverse singer-songwriter.

Whereas “Heart of Gold” was filmed at the storied Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tenn., the heart of the country music industry, “Trunk Show” was recorded at the Tower Theater in Upper Darby, Penn. “Heart of Gold” was carefully staged for the cameras; “Trunk Show” was caught on the fly by handheld devices. “Heart of Gold” highlighted Young’s long-time friends and bandmates and featured dozens of performers; “Trunk Show” focuses on Young, lingering on his guitar and piano solos and long, improvisational jams. “Heart of Gold” presented Young’s acoustic folk/country persona; “Trunk Show,” electric rock.

The Weinstein label Dimension Films traded in its old horror-based hat this year for a softer, more encouraging film with “Hurricane Season.” The biopic portrays high school basketball coach Al Collins (Forest Whitaker) as he assembles a team of young men from the Katrina-ravaged streets of New Orleans and transforms them into the winners of the 2005-06 Louisiana State Championship.

Opening the film just a few days before Hurricane Katrina’s destruction, director Tim Story makes a far leap from his Queen Latifah comedy “Taxi” to present a cast of essential “under-dog-sports-film” characters, headed by Bow Wow and Jackie Long and including a bit part played by Lil’ Wayne. Katrina’s doom and gloom is showcased around every corner, including count-down title cards leading up to the big event; the hurricane itself is only implied at this point, fading quickly to heavy use of “floating corpse” stock footage to exaggerate the devastation.

There is much to love about “Elektra Luxx,” which is loosely the story of porn actresses who’ve left the biz. Elektra is – or was – the Jenna Jameson of her day, but has gotten pregnant and decided to go straight, and now teaches “How to be a porn star in the bedroom” classes at the local community college. Played by Carla Gugino, she’s an unlikely blonde but an even unlikelier heroine — confident with both her place in the world and her sexuality. The film itself was a hoot, if a somewhat disconnected one; inclusive not just of Elektra’s porn-film quality setups (she’s stranded in an elevator with a naked neighbor! There’s a case of mistaken identity with a stranger in an apartment!), odd striptease and musical numbers (sadly, Gugino needs to avoid singing again, though she’s grand playing Luxx's delinquent sister) and a reverent blogger trying to treat her career seriously.

Howard Marks lived a life that seems to combine “Catch Me If You Can” with the drug elements of “Goodfellas.” To tell his story would require a very deft screenwriter and director indeed. It would be a mistake to start at, say, his early school days, dwell a bit long on actually getting to Oxford, spend way too much time in Ireland and on the general joys of smoking joint upon joint and repeated copulations with his longtime girlfriend/eventual wife (Chloë Sevigny, with a wavering English accent) — and fail to further explore the logistics behind his 43 aliases, 89 phone lines and 25 companies. It would also be a mistake to barely touch on just how it required a worldwide task force effort to finally catch him and bring him to justice. One would want someone with the Coen brothers’ facility with dark humor and madcap, surreal antics. Alas, Bernard Rose is no Coen brother.

And it’s a good thing Levon Helm ain’t in it for his health, because the health of one Levon Helm ain’t all that great these days. But that doesn’t keep this drummer — one of just a few surviving members of The Band — from living, performing and even writing more music and lyrics; by these actions, you will know there is a true artist in the room.

Helm is 70 and, while weathered and raspy (he’s a throat cancer survivor and has continuing vocal issues), remains a charismatic presence in any room — which is catnip for a documentary filmmaker like Jacob Hatley. All eyes gravitate to Helm, who happily goes on about scenes in movies or fields fan questions from visiting performers like actor Billy Bob Thornton, who asks what happened to The Band after that second, brilliant album. Helm more or less shrugs and just says they were pretty much done by then.

The comedy is about a man slouching through life until he learns he’s about to become a father. Deep down inside the movie, there is a kind and heartfelt story of redemption and growing up. But it comes couched in easy, cliché humor, too many tit-and-balls jokes and a kind of deus ex machina (or perhaps deus ex instrument) that propels the story into motion but has nothing whatsoever to do with the rest of the film.

Barry, our titular hero, is kind of a skeevy loser. He’s a slacker at his job, an ogler at all times, and spends his evenings enjoying nacho night at the local TGIF with his air-guitar-playing buddy and sleeping with whoever’s left at last call. He might have good intentions or basically be a decent guy, but it’s hard to tell — until the accident, after which Barry wakes up in a hospital sans testicles.