JENNIFER’S BODY Cast: Megan Fox, Amanda Seyfried, Adam Brody,
At: Carmike, Commonwealth, Movieland, Short Pump, Southpark, Westchester, West Tower
FYI: Running time: 1:40. Rated R (sexuality, bloody violence).

Jennifer’s Body,“ the second screenplay from Diablo Cody after her Oscar-winning debut smash, “Juno,“ is so chock-full of her quirky trademarks, it almost plays like a parody of something she’d write. The self-consciously clever dialogue, the gratuitous pop-culture references, the made-up phrases intended to convey a specific high-school ethos—they’re all there. Even though fembot Megan Fox is an excellent fit to spit out these witty quips, it’s all so familiar. It makes you wonder whether Cody has any other weapons in her arsenal.

Ten years ago, Mike Judge satirized the absurdities of the workplace experience from the perspective of put-upon employees with “Office Space.“ It didn’t do much when it came out, but it became a cult favorite on cable and home video, to the point where it changed the way you looked at the common stapler. Now, Judge is back to the daily grind with “Extract,“ but this time, the writer-director tells his wacky working tales from the boss’ point of view: that of Jason Bateman’s Joel Reynold, owner of a flavor-extract factory. It’s doubtful that this comedy will grab its audience in the same way, though. Judge’s characters are so one-note and their misadventures so ridiculous that it’s hard to get attached to them or care about how they turn out.

You put food in your mouth every day. But do you know exactly what you’re consuming when you pick up chicken breasts at the grocery store or drive though a fast-food restaurant for a cheeseburger? Or do you care?  Probably not, director Robert Kenner says in his documentary “Food, Inc.“—and you should.

Moon” does something extraordinary: It seems familiar and derivative, yet it upends your expectations about science fiction and surprises you over and over. Melancholy and mesmerizing, equal parts mystery and character drama, it keeps you guessing until the end.  The intelligent, assured debut from director Duncan Jones—David Bowie’s son, though we won’t have to describe him in terms of his famous father for much longer—harkens back to the fundamentals of the genre, in which people and provocative ideas mattered more than shiny gadgets and splashy effects.

With his 2006 debut “Brick,“ writer-director Rian Johnson had the vision and ambition to make a film noir set at a California high school.  With his follow-up, “The Brothers Bloom,“ he has made . . .  well, he has made a Wes Anderson film, something that’s idiosyncratic enough to qualify as a genre all its own. If Johnson lacks originality here, though, he makes up for it in vibrant energy and visual flair. If he’s copying—or borrowing liberally, to be more charitable—at least he has made a better Anderson movie than Anderson himself has in about a decade.