At 91, Clint Eastwood is still throwing punches, riding horses and directing movies. Amazing!

In the contemporary Western “Cry Macho,” set in 1980, Eastwood plays Mike Milo, a former horse trainer/rodeo rider, on a mission to cross the Rio Grande, rescue and kidnap his boss’s estranged 13 year-old son, Raphael (Eduardo Minett), who was abandoned by his Texan father (Dwight Yoakum) and abused by his alcoholic Mexican mother (Fernanda Urrejola).

Rebellious Rafa is devoted to Macho, his cherished fighting rooster; hence the movie’s title.

“This macho thing is overrated,” laid-back Mike tells him. “You think you have all the answers, but then you get older and realize you don’t have any of ‘em. By the time you figure it out, it’s too late.”

That’s probably the longest monologue laconic Eastwood has, as their meandering road trip takes them from Mexico City through one dusty border town to another, eluding Rafa’s mother’s henchmen, and stopping briefly at a cantina run by warm, welcoming Marta (Natalia Traven), a widow caring for her three orphaned grandchildren.

Adapted from a 1975 novel by N. Richard Nash, it was originally scripted by Nash (who died in 2000) and updated by Nick Schenk (“The Mule,” “Grand Torino”). The redemptive, coming-of-age theme revolves around developing a poignant bond between dyspeptic Mike and distrusting Rafa.

Curiously, back in 1988, when Eastwood originally read the script, he turned it down because he felt he was too young for weather-beaten Mike; over the years, several other actors, including Robert Mitchum, Roy Scheider and Arnold Schwarzenegger,  expressed interest but, ultimately, backed out.

FYI: Animal-wranglers used 11 different birds to play the pivotal pet rooster. In addition, Eastwood wrote and performed “Time Lapse,” one of the soundtrack themes.

On the Granger Gauge of 1 to 10, “Cry Macho” is a charming, compassionate 7. It’s playing in theaters but more satisfying streaming on HBO Max.

Undoubtedly, best-buddies Steve Martin and Martin Short had more fun making “Only Murders in the Building,” a comedy murder-mystery than audiences who endure all 10 episodes to discover whodunit.

Co-created by Steve Martin and John Hoffman, the farcical parody of Manhattan eccentricity works best when it concentrates on the various characters, rather than allowing participants to indulge in broad slapstick.

Charles Hayden-Savage (Martin), Oliver Putnam (Short) and Mabel Mora (Selena Gomez) occupy apartments in the Arconia, a fictitious co-op on the Upper West Side. They politely nod to one another in the elevator but they’ve never made any attempt to know one another.

Dour Charles is a former actor, often recognized from his days playing a detective on TVs “Brazzos.” Narcissistic Oliver is a tap-dancing theater director whose musical “Splash” was a dismal failure. And savvy, sarcastic Mabel is an illustrator with a troubled past.

Yet when a fire-alarm forces them to evacuate and interact, these three lonely strangers suddenly discover that they share an obsession with the popular true-crime podcast “All is Not OK in Oklahoma,” hosted by Cinda Canning (Tina Fey).

When they’re permitted to re-enter the Anconia, they discover police responding to the suicide of another resident, young businessman Tim Kono (Julian Cihi). But was it really suicide? Was poor Tim murdered?  Perhaps they can find the culprit, documenting their pursuit on a podcast of their own.

To that end, they start interviewing other neighbors, like deli czar Teddy Dimas (Nathan Lane), one of Oliver’s former Broadway investors; Jan (Amy Ryan), a bassoonist; Sting (as himself), occupying the penthouse; and Oscar (Aaron Dominguez), son of the Arconia’s superintendent (Vanessa Aspillaga).

They discover, among other tidbits, that Tim suffered from asthma, which kept them all from using their fireplaces, plus there’s that beetle-size emerald and a taxidermy cat.

FYI: Exteriors for the Arconia were filmed at the Belnord at 225 W 86^th St. in Manhattan.

On the Granger Gauge, “Only Murders in the Building” is an underwhelming, sleuthing 6, streaming on Hulu.

Some Broadway shows transfer admirably to the big screen. Others do not.  

Actor Ben Platt won plaudits for playing the titular teenager in the coming-of-age musical “Dear Evan Hansen,” but now he’s 27 and not quite as believable as an angst-riddled high-schooler.

Opening with “Waving Through a Window,” the story revolves around depressed Evan Hansen (Platt), struggling through the first day of his senior year. At his therapist’s insistence, he’s written a reassuring letter to himself that’s stolen by a bullying classmate Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan) and, later, found in drug-addicted Connor’s pocket after he commits suicide.

Naturally, everyone thinks Connor has written it to his only friend Evan.  Socially anxious and insecure Evan goes along with the charade, ostensibly to help Connor’s grieving parents, Cynthia (Amy Adams) and Larry (Danny Pinto) and guitar-playing sister Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever) on whom Evan has a secret crush.

But then Evan deviously asks Jared (Nik Dodani) to create a fake email correspondence to cruelly cement Evan’s relationship with Connor, referring to a trip to Connor’s favorite orchard where Evan fell from a tree and broke his arm.

Plus there’s the Student Body President Alana Beck (Amandla Stenberg) and the ‘karma’ when Evan’s confessional video goes viral.

Perhaps the one saving grace is Julianne Moore as Heidi, Evan’s single mother, working extra nursing shifts so Evan can go to college, singing the tender solo “So Big/So Small.”

Based on a book by Steven Levenson, it’s adapted and streamlined by Stephen Chbosky (“The Perks of Being a Wallflower”), who cut several Benj Pasek/Justin Paul songs, like the show’s original opener, “Anybody Have a Map,” while adding new ones.

Admittedly, Ben father, Marc Platt, is one of the film’s producers, but he’s not the only twentysomething to play younger: Tobey Maguire was 27 as Peter Parker in “Spider-Man,” Rachel McAdams was 26 in “Mean Girls,” Jennifer Grey was 27 in “Dirty Dancing.”

On the Granger Gauge, “Dear Evan Hansen” is a manipulatively maudlin, superficial 5, citing the Suicide Prevention Hotline after the end credits.