Wile E. Coyote has been through a lot, but he’s never been more egregiously treated than by the folks at Warner Bros., who nearly let his big-screen starring vehicle be thrown away and turned into a tax loss.

Unlike in his skirmishes with the Road Runner, however, Wile comes out a winner now that Coyote vs. Acme has been rescued by Ketchup Entertainment (which performed a similar invaluable rescue with The Day the Earth Blew Up) and is being given a proper theatrical release. It’s a pleasure to report that the film is a hilarious delight, one of the best live-action/animation films ever, and will be treasured by Looney Tunes fans (and who isn’t one?) who will be thrilled seeing their favorite cartoon characters return to the big screen.

The sophistication of the film’s imaginative premise is indicated by its origin, namely a satirical New Yorker article by humorist Ian Frazier. The idea — “based on a true story,” according to the opening credits — is that Wile has gotten thoroughly fed up with his constant physical abuse at the hands of the Acme Corporation, whose products repeatedly blow up in his face or worse. So when he spots a billboard asking “Been in a Cartoon Accident?” and advertising the services of Albuquerque law firm “Avery, Jones & Maltese” (if you don’t get the joke, you’re clearly not a Looney Tunes fanatic), he enlists the services of hapless lawyer Kevin Avery (Will Forte), who specializes in settling out-of-court for token amounts for his cartoon clients.

Unfortunately for Kevin, Wile turns out to be an uncooperative client, even when Acme’s smarmy lawyer Buddy Crane (John Cena), with whom Kevin has history, offers an eye-popping $50,000. Kevin is reluctantly forced to go to trial, facing such logistical obstacles as the difficulty of serving Road Runner a subpoena. He soon uncovers a corporate conspiracy involving Acme scientist Dr. Lorre (looking and sounding exactly like his Maltese Falcon actor namesake) and a plethora of Looney Tunes characters including whistleblower Bugs Bunny, P.R. rep Tasmanian Devil, Acme CEO Foghorn Leghorn, and Senate investigative head Elmer Fudd.

Filled with so many in-jokes and Looney Tunes references that even hardcore fans will be hard-pressed to keep up, Coyote vs. Acme proves consistently funny in its intermingling of human and classic cartoon characters. Cena leans into his over-the-top character with his trademark gusto, especially in the scene in which he threateningly interrogates a terrified Tweety Bird. Seemingly dozens of other Looney Tunes characters make brief appearances, most of them hilariously voiced by the company’s veteran performer Eric Bauza.

Forte, largely playing straight man to the silent but very expressive Wile, does great deadpan comic work, as do a variety of supporting players including Luis Guzman as a judge who uses a cartoon gavel when it’s appropriate. The screenplay by Samy Burch (Oscar-nominated for May December) features one clever gag after another, such as Road Runner, making a surprise appearance in the courtroom, delivering his testimony via beeps.

More surprisingly, the film directed by Dave Green (Earth to Echo, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows) proves emotionally resonant as well, with Wile and Kevin eventually forming a surprising emotional bond, albeit not a particularly verbal one. And for those of you who’ve spent many happy hours laughing at the Road Runner getting the better of his fanatical pursuer, you’ll be touched to discover that the two have a mutual respect and are even, gasp, friends. It’s the cartoon bromance we’ve been hungering for.    

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched someone’s parents die. In a film, of course. Movie history is built on the tragic deaths of taciturn patriarchs, loving matriarchs and fascist cyborg space dads who recant on their death beds after throwing their immediate supervisors down a well. The death of a loved one is a rite of passage and fair game for dramatists in every genre. If people really do have to die (and I’m not convinced it’s a good idea) then children should outlive their parents and parents should play fair by foreshadowing their demise by coughing in the first act.

Julia Hart’s new film “Don’t Say Good Luck” opens with Elizabeth (Melanie Lynskey) being mother of the year, before hinting at her inevitable doom. Lynskey is such a warm, genuine performer that the second she mentions she has a doctor’s appointment I cried out “Nope!” That would be rude in public, but it’s 100% acceptable in the comfort of your living room. Netflix’s tiresome refusal to release their films in theaters has one upside.

Melanie Lynskey isn’t the star of “Don’t Say Good Luck,” but she is the glue that holds it together. Sunny Sandler officially takes the lead as Sophie Birenbaum, a high school sophomore who dreams of co-starring in her school’s summer musical, “Waitress.” When Sophie’s father, Ted (Max Greenfield), accidentally butt dials her during auditions, she overhears that her mother’s cancer has returned. It’s emotionally devastating but, ironically, the gut punch infuses Sophie’s audition with raw, emotional energy.

Sophie gets the lead but she doesn’t want it anymore; she wants to be with her mom during the hardest, possibly final few months of her life. But Elizabeth wants Sophie to pursue her goals, and the push and pull as a young woman debates between sacrificing a dream and sacrificing time with her mom drives “Don’t Say Good Luck” into real, complex, heartbreaking territory. Julia Hart (“Stargirl”) cares about capturing bittersweet human emotions. “Don’t Say Good Luck” feels honest. Usually. When it’s not slightly contrived.

“Don’t Say Good Luck” hails from Happy Madison Productions, a company which never met a fart it didn’t love, but this new film is mercifully fartless. (We can safely assume someone farted at some point, it’s just not that kind of movie.) This is a sweet, sensitive film with only one wacky puke in it — no more, no less. It’s an indulgent, lazy joke but maybe we should try to think of it like one of Alfred Hitchcock’s notorious cameos. Can you really blame Happy Madison for signing their work?

Happy Madison also loves their cameos. Jon Lovitz turns up as a bagel shop employee who loves bagels and hates [checks notes] not bagels. When Sophie’s grandparents arrive, you can play a little game and try to guess which of Adam Sandler’s regulars are behind Door #1. I was 50% right: I got Steve Buscemi, but Bebe Neuwirth was a pleasant surprise. Somehow Neuwirth, brilliant Neuwirth, overplays her character’s bigger moments. That’s an odd choice. Perhaps the audience was supposed to be startled, even impressed that a legendary actress was driven to melodrama, but her tone feels out of place. Buscemi, however, hits his notes with lovely, light touches, making a serious impression with little screen time.

Sunny Sandler’s last name is “Sandler.” I checked and that’s no coincidence. It’s a big year for the Sandler youths, with Sadie Sandler also headlining Chandler Levack’s surprisingly dark comedy “Roommates.” Sunny Sandler has a more dramatic role, and she’s up to the challenge, although early scenes extolling the virtues of live performance lead to disappointment when, in the end, it sure does sound like her big number was pre-recorded. (And if it wasn’t pre-recorded, the problem is it sounds that way.)

But again, more than anything, “Don’t Say Good Luck” revolves around Lynskey. We get to see the light gradually fading from her eyes, her early energy draining ever so slightly with each scene. Too many filmmakers are afraid to let actors dwindle on camera, to look like they’re dying instead of just looking drowsy. Julia Hart and Melanie Lynskey handle the sad transformation with subtelty and fragile beauty. There aren’t many performers who light up a screen like Lynskey — and I mean ever, not just in her lifetime — and watching her flicker breaks your heart.

Sunny Sandler got the limelight, and she warrants the attention, but Lynskey deserves the standing ovation. Everything in “Don’t Say Good Luck” revolves around her and the delicate, believable choices she makes. (If she’d been in Sandler’s puke scene, she would have elevated that puke scene.) It’s a decent movie, by which I mean that it’s kind, not mediocre. The flaws are distracting, but they don’t pull our focus for long. Hart knows how to elicit wonderful performances from her cast, and a few unexpected hiccups aside, her cast never lets her down.