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Set in the 1950s and stocked with retro-futuristic James Bond-like tech (that all rich men have access to, of course), the photography, lighting, and scenery invoke the adventure films of the time… except for how rarely the camera ever moves from its precise framing. The story of a stern man hellbent on defeating his enemies while his daughter tries in vain to thaw his heart is complex enough, but enduring so many subsequent successes and defeats with the same tone and beats wears thin by the third encounter. There’s also a tendency for Wes to jump over expected scenes and refer back to the missing rhetoric, refusing to drag the proverbial lady onto the stage to insist that she sing. The 100-minute run time feels closer to two hours, and the most memorable part is the artistry of the end credits… perhaps even ironically. Anderson fans may enjoy this for completion, but after the misodered anthology of The French Dispatch and the much-improved Asteroid City, this particular scheme ends up dull and contrived.

Told through three acts (in reverse order) with sporadic narration by Nick Offerman, “the mystery that isn’t” hangs over the production; while the plot invites the audience to figure out some presumed trick, it’s literal window dressing in of the story itself. If the point was to get “the scary truth” of everyone’s perspective out of the way, sure — it works, but it’s also a distraction rooted in the story itself unrelated to the director’s interpretation of the writer’s work. Hitching the film’s last moments to the third-act-shown-first even feels like a letdown compared to the existential nirvana throughout most of the film… until the truth of it snaps into focus: this isn’t a narrative. Like one’s life flashing before their eyes, it’s a blur of collective moments where time needn’t apply, a mind struggling in a dreamlike state to reorganize the bullet points of existence, everything everywhere all at once. No one should envy the hard choices the director had to make to minimize the intrusion of filmmaking into King’s prose, and while all of it isn’t perfect, the full impact hits once it has time to settle in: this is truly something special.

Fans who the original may not love all the changes, but the live-action version reworks enough story to give added quality time to Lilo and Nani instead of merely sticking with Stitch, allowing the humans to literally bring the film’s climactic ending down to Earth. Beats inspired by and/or taken directly from the original film fail to follow through, too often calling attention to themselves. Example: Earth-expert Pleakley mentions rebuilding the mosquito population (wink wink), but the plot points and responses to that candid revelation never happen, so why mention it at all? Subplots eating up significant screen time — Stitch’s “Ugly Duckling” references and Lilo’s "popular girl" problems — have been thoroughly stricken. Nitpicks like these won’t be noticed by first-time viewers, but it would have been nicer if the editors could have included the full bits or similarly expunged these leftovers to the benefit of the final cut. Lilo’s borderline “Wednesday Addams” spooky-fun weirdness was definitely missed (“My friends must be punished”) but the additional infused charm go a long way toward an acceptable compromise.

Stories that flirt with the supernatural, especially with the best of intentions, make for interesting character studies. Mike Flanagan’s “Midnight Mass,” for example, not only paves his road to hell with good intentions but puts up strip malls and truck stops. In Bring Her Back, the core concept is seeded from the beginning but begins unfocused, building anxiety by first gaslighting the characters and then granting audiences an insider look. By the time the diabolical plan is revealed to all, viewers will feel as trapped as the characters, dreading what’s coming but helpless to stop it… never mind if it’s even possible. The suspension of disbelief regarding many of the VFX, especially those revolving around Oliver, are disturbingly and pain-inducingly realistic, and it isn’t clear what’s practical, enhanced, or both. Similar to how last year’s Longlegs seeped into your soul, the moments that feel the most like watching a true-crime documentary no one was ever supposed to see will be haunting viewers for a while afterward.

A staple of the series has always been Death calling its shot, like a switch hitter pointing into the parking lot behind the outfield; Bloodlines is no exception. At the same time, it may also be the best of the series overall, balancing characterization, ensemble interactions, and story to make it more than setup, kill, repeat. It’s also fun for audiences to follow the camera pointing out potential pitfalls yet still enabling them in surprising ways, including the order of the hit list. It’s a ride as much as it’s a movie, and the filmmakers understood the assignment. You do know it’s a bit demented to enjoy all of this, don’t you? Not judging; I’m right there in that handbasket with you.

Ensemble slashers like this tend to follow the tropes outlined in The Cabin In the Woods, but this plot eerily follows the bullet points of Eli Roth’s Thanksgiving, which itself was informed by his own fake film trailer made for the Tarantino and Rodriguez Grindhouse double-feature. Similarities aside, this clown has a secret weapon: Katie Douglas. Amazingly watchable and utterly comfortable as our presumed final girl Quinn, she’s already known for playing captives or characters in danger since she was nine… very much the opposite of what fell flat in the recent Until Dawn adaptation. Everything works while she’s on screen — and the teen tailies noticeably less so when she’s not — giving set-ups enough breathing room to be fun without sacrificing the gravitas of the kills. Subvert a few expectations, toss some raw meat to the horror fans, and you’ve got the makings of a good-enough drive-in midnight feature that already has two sequel books teed up for a film trilogy.

The sigh heard ’round the Magic Kingdom is Marvel Studios unclenching its collective keister. As of this review, Thunderbolts* is already a hit and an easy tee-up for the Phase 6 introduction of The Fantastic Four: First Steps and continuing with Avengers: Doomsday next year. There have already been comparisons to the Suicide Squad movies (including one in-movie quote), but DCU films tend be binary in of who is a hero and who isn’t. In contrast, Marvel’s morally gray characters have existed since their very inception into comics parlance. The collective uselessness regarding this ensemble is punctuated in conversations between Mel and Valentina, including trailer quotes like “There are only bad guys and worse guys” and “The Avengers are not coming.” Why does all this sound familiar, a group of would-be public-facing wannabes that absolutely no one believes in? They’re not your classic heroes, they’re the other guys: Thunderbolts* is Marvel’s Mystery Men.

Similar to the problems that haunted Dead Silence, there’s more going on here than needs to be. The production design looks ready-made for Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios, ready to funnel horror fans through a gauntlet of spooky details, atmosphere, and jump scares. Our protagonist, however, immediately proves dull and indecisive, leaving audiences to endure the ensemble stumbling into clues and making questionable decisions with their findings, especially after the first round of murders. Sure, each reset might provide new insight, but it also stacks on new locations, new situations, and new dangers — plus the all the previous ones to avoid — creating too many additional choices each time around. Since survival hinges on a vague notion of figuring something out, it feels like 99% luck with too few lives or time left to work out the correct decisions. In other words, a movie based on a game demanding the best decisions be made fails to invoke that premise, stringing random events together to fill the runtime. If you’re the kind of horror fan who lives for logic, the how and why all this is happening (read: folks who enjoyed the game), you’re going to be disappointed.

Sinners lays its scene with all the Southern Gothic trappings — forbidden desires, ample grotesquerie, and angsty alienation in the heat and humidity — where devils gamble with gold fiddles and haints stalk unsuspecting travelers on dark highways. Coogler quickly builds his story in overlapping character introductions, dropping hints of the past without resorting to lengthy flashbacks. All roads lead to a repurposed saw mill as the sun sets, the party cranks up, and souls are laid bare. While the original idea might have started as serving up tried and true “grilled cheese,” the choices and details herein quickly go gourmet, like tasting it again for the very first time. Those falling under its spell will want it all: the soundtrack, the score, the special home edition with all the extras, and another ticket for the next showing — yeah, it’s that good.

The ad trailers are a disservice to the film, overstuffed with money shots — every money shot, as it turns out — promising an action-oriented blockbuster shortchanging the actual film’s plot. Fortunately, the globe-trotting production itself serves the better story being told: how grief can drive someone to do something previously unthinkable. Malik is perfectly suited to this role, not dissimilar from “Mr. Robot,” now applied to a driven analyst obsessed with balancing the scales after the fridging of his wife. Films of this type often overuse twists and misdirection, but keeping the plot linear in this case builds actual drama instead of merely executing one’s adversaries, an exploration of the mindset of a reluctant killer.

The setup seems simple until the complications set in, stacking the deck against our protagonist to make the audience feel helpless right alongside her. Yet at every turn, she does whatever she can, whether taking an extra moment, quickly assessing a clue, or using clever misdirection… anything to gain an edge when everything seems hopeless. Violet’s refusal to give up against all odds speaks volumes for her character, and when her antagonists finally realize how they’ve underestimated her, it is indeed glorious but still not the end. More of a who’s-doing-it than a whodunit in a room full of suspects, the story steadily builds momentum until it stomps on the gas, and all you can do by then is hold on.

With plot points eerily echoing E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial mixed with a bit of the 1983 sci-fi Brainstorm, our story involves three families: one having endured tragedy, one overcoming tragedy, and the last seeking a miracle to avoid it. Corporate greed and selling your soul to the highest bidder sets up glorious gore and justifiable comeuppance, encouraging characters to compromise their values in exchange for escalating executions. As per most supernatural horror, transgressions are subject to over-punishment, but mercy may be granted for anyone finally pulling their heads out of their ass. It’s understandable if organ harvesting isn’t your particular brand of humor and horror, but if The Monkey tripped your trigger last month, you’re in for a rainbow-flavored treat.

This story initially appears to be about the technology itself but ultimately proves to be merely set within a world where such technology exists. Similar to what the creators of Abigail dealt with, writer/director Drew Hancock knew he couldn’t keep the first reveal hidden, using it instead as a springboard into sneaky surprises and clever twists. The narrative unfortunately lacks an adequate explanation as to why a companion’s programming includes a self-preservation mode but no such Isaac Asimov three-laws failsafe like in I, Robot. One no-name, non-bronze, no-prize for the lacking exposition might be the assumption this is self-explanatory, dodging narrative loopholes as to whether this has happened before. Cue Bishop from Aliens: “The A2s always were a bit twitchy; that could never happen now with our behavioral inhibitors.” After a few clever story distractions, the rest of the film works as clues and complications add up to confrontations. Because viewers will make the same assumptions any uninformed human might, the final reveals stick the landing, highlighting humanity existing in the face of technology like any good sci-fi flick should.

At last: the perfect film to pair with The Cabin In the Woods as a double feature, invoking the same existential dread, desperate need to do something, and all the “I can’t believe that just happened” a horror fan could want. Comedic elements are less silly than the Zombieland films or Tucker and Dale Vs. Evil (not that these are bad films) because the fictional place these characters occupy simply and unapologetically exists, much as it does in the underrated Willy’s Wonderland. We’re living in a post-Terrifier world now, where visceral carnage can be wonderfully over the top whether it’s deserved or not. While Art the Clown wallows in homicidal mayhem, the monkey silently observes its handiwork but doesn’t suffer fools; disrespect it at your own peril. No, really, go ahead. Please?

An American Werewolf in London was clearly a story inspiration; the lead actors even resemble one another as does some of the practical transformation. Clocking in at a tight ninety minutes, Wolf Man wastes no time getting to what fans want but seems to hint at more than comes to fruition. We see a man devolving (or evolving) into something primal and beastlike, suffering through everything he’s losing but more afraid of what he’ll do once the transformation is complete. Wolf Man explores this deeply as Charlotte bears witness, changing points of view within the same scene to show Blake’s perception of becoming something inhuman. There’s an “overprotective overbearing dad” bit countered with a “you’ll understand when you have kids” angle, but the film leaves a hollow feeling that something important was inexplicably cut out.

Brave New World jumps right into the action with canon characters played by newcomers Giancarlo Esposito, Danny Ramirez, and Shira Haas. Anthony Mackey shoulders the entire film and the required gravitas to keep it grounded with heart and courage instead of superpowers… showcasing his Captain America upgrades while looking more capable than ever since the events of “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.” There’s a lot of exposition between action sequences, but the crescendos between them fail to build up as interestingly as previous MCU films have, feeling less world-threatening in a story where the world is at stake. At just under two hours, audiences are treated to a solid film that falls short of greatness, perfectly watchable but too focused on what-comes-next rather than happening-right-now in an eerily Iron Man 2 kind of way.

Fans of holiday horror will recognize the send-ups and self-aware references, because letting the audience in on the joke is all part of the fun: kill-box venues, misdirection, and everyone a suspect until they aren’t… or are they? There never seems to be a shortage in these films of empty parks, sprawling attractions closed for renovations, or secret lairs impossibly stocked with deadly opportunities. At the same time, it’s still a romantic comedy, with two lovelorn characters who obviously want nothing to do with one another while ridiculously trench-bonding; you can almost hear someone off camera rattling off “the rom-com rules.” The production can’t fully escape its cross-genre Scream-like inspirations but ultimately earns enough goodwill to forgive the tres.

Comparisons to previous Dracula adaptations are inescapable — Frank Langella’s 1979 version or Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 version starring Gary Oldman, for example — but rethinking known story elements and trappings into a decidedly adult Beauty and the Beast story breathes new (un)life into the familiar tale. Lily-Rose Depp carries the film as Ellen, a far less incidental heroine with a spiritual connection to the monster no one could have warned her about (but certainly would have). Crucifixes and holy water are pushed aside for hints of fae lineage, heptagrams over pentagrams for the occult, and a title monster who inhabits shadow rather than merely lurking in darkness. Dreams also play a large part, not only toward premonition but also interconnection, fueling a doomed Gothic romance with angst to spare; the rest is atmosphere, set dressing, and attention to detail while the score and sound design fill your ears with dread. Rest assured, you won’t need to drag out your favorite version of A Christmas Carol to enjoy a disturbing holiday story this year.

Setting up similar dynamics to the original, Gladiator II capitalizes on what moviegoers enjoyed about the original film while minimizing the drama, and this works for the most part; after all, viewers are the Colosseum’s audience waiting for blood. Twelve years ed for Maximus to rise up from a slave in Spain to a celebrated gladiator within striking distance of his foe in a believable way. The timeline is surprisingly more compressed in the sequel, from the capture of Lucious to his purchase mere weeks later followed by a ten-day countdown to the ending, barely time to realistically heal from a simple injury. What sets the sequel apart is the introduction of Denzel Washington as Macrinus: instantly charming and disarming with ambition to spare, an entertaining villain who celebrates treachery. He’s MacBeth without remorse or regret, in it to win at any cost, entirely and happily hands-on… and having the best time ever. If you’re asking whether I’m referring to Macrinus or Denzel, the answer is yes.

A very rare thing is about to drop into theaters: a beloved story adapted for the stage yet ready-made for the silver screen. Even with the pedigree of the singer/actors — including cameos fans of Broadway knew were coming — Wicked soars from the opening titles to the end credits. Filled with familiar fantasy elements, a dash of Harry Potter, and built around the Judy Garland film long ago certified a classic, all it needed was the perfect pair to lead the production. Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo own their screen time — which is going to make awards time hell when they can’t share Best Actress — and it’s a credit to them both perfectly playing off of one another. Erivo is a master of subtlety, emoting with the slightest movements through heavy makeup, while Grande delivers Glinda’s self-absorbed personality so charmingly it’s entirely believable everyone lets her get away with it. As sunshine and rainbows give way to storm clouds and thunder, the songs punctuate the story highs and lows, culminating in an ending so impactful viewers could be forgiven in forgetting there’s another entire movie to follow. Yes, it’s that good.

The worst thing about Red One may be its cheesy callsign title, because there are some interesting story ideas going on here, so cue up your favorite version of “Kidnap the Sandy Claws!” Regarding the folklore behind many Christmas traditions, knowledge of the title character’s origins and other such trappings informs some clever Easter eggs, as long as one re this movie exists purely for entertainment’s sake. The production team understood the assignment, especially where it exceeds the script; there’s no skimping on the worldbuilding, bigger than it needed to be but in a wondrous way. Simmons as Nick is underutilized while lending an interesting character take, but Hivju’s Krampus desperately needs his own movie, being a constant highlight whenever he appears. If you’re not catching on, Red One is darker than d and somewhat monstrous, so it might be a good idea to leave the littlest ones at home — parental guidance is suggested.

Forget about rom-com Hugh Grant, as it’s clear he missed his calling in delicious villainy… and not just cheesy untrustworthy rogues like in Dungeons & Dragon: Honor Among Thieves; this kind of role leans toward Robin Williams in One Hour Photo territory. Grant plays the embodiment of “smart evil,” a master manipulator justifiably confident enough to share space inside his own trap, close enough to see his victims unravel in their fear to act. Fun fact: Mr. Reed is cause for what the LDS calls “advanced witnessing,” left to senior missionaries like Elder Kennedy (Topher Grace) who’ve been trained on the ins and outs of scripture “gotchas from grouches.” The baited religious truths are calculated to shake one’s faith to its core, but it doesn’t inform our antagonist’s end game; does he want to create a spiritual awakening in two misinformed youths, convince them willingly a cult of his so-called truth, or is he a twisted manipulator who enjoys elaborate scenarios to savor the kill? The script keeps even avid psychological horror and true crime fanatics guessing in that unique A24 kind of way.

It takes almost half the film before the narrative threads begin to intersect in interesting ways, which is already far too long for modern audiences to bother caring about a single character let alone an ensemble cast. For more dedicated and/or sophisticated cinephiles, there’s almost too much going on, much of it seemingly random for longer than it needs to be. Modern digital comic books work a bit like this presentation, but sequential art by definition suggests linear storytelling unless a reader is already committed. A helpful narrative trick might have been making the home itself a character, similar to the “Baby” episode of “Supernatural” (Season 11, Episode 4), but for the purposes of this film, it’s the all-seeing Eye of Sauron… except he doesn’t care what’s happening any more than the viewers (probably still looking for his ring). This renders the core story — read: the parts with the biggest name actors — to about an hour of broken narrative and 40+ minutes of padding, which doesn’t make for a great experience… not to mention the distractingly gimmicky overlapping s making the entire movie feel like watching a mid-1990s screen saver. “Filmed in Video-Toaster-Vision!”

While the accuracy of detail is what one expects from a journalist-turned-novelist, make no mistake: this is fantasy, “The West Wing: Vatican City.” Fiennes’ renamed-from-the-novel character Lawrence even hangs a lantern on it, lamenting his vote for the least bad option being (correctly) akin to American politics. Unlike films such as last year’s The Pope’s Exorcist, the fantastic elements give way to pure court politics while characters are forced to outmaneuver their rivals within that very framework. The uniformed cardinals are housed within cold marble walls and steel-shuttered windows casting votes written on cardstock, an archaic pageantry that jarringly contrasts with sudden modern conveniences like high-end instant coffee makers and secure computer terminals. With the pedigree of the cast, the weight of their task, and the urgency of the editing, this simple story evolves into a tangible thriller in spite of a final reveal that’s too much to hope for.

it it: you probably haven’t read the original 1975 book in quite some time. If you do recall the plot points of the novel, the 2024 film plays like a compact version of the text. In a couple of ways, it follows the written work far more closely for a few characters than the significant liberties taken in 1979. The Marsten House lore has been paired down to library microfiche research, the triumphs and fates of a few characters get swapped, and the minutiae about this dying small town in Maine has been pushed aside to shorten the runtime. For movie lovers willing to let go of minor details or who are otherwise unfamiliar with them, this version is an effective spooky distraction improving upon many of the cheesiest effects from previous adaptations while still paying homage to the films and novel that inspired them. Edit: a 3-hour director's cut exists... and that needs to happen.

Undoing much of the goodwill from its predecessor, the sequel convolutes what could have been a unique character study into a bloated encore that goes out with a whimper. Following an opening sequence that can only be described as Looney Tunes, we’re reintroduced to Arthur two years after the events in the first film. No longer the Joker we knew but with a reputation keeping him from harm, his dark persona now appears to be a choice… and one that can be manipulated. Each revelation into Arthur’s myriad vulnerabilities is punished by overlong dream sequences that, while having some story relevance, continue on long after they’ve made their points — reveal, rinse, repeat. Other than another money grab, what’s the point of it? As an example, it’s pointless to make a Fight Club sequel about where Tyler Durden came from, undermining the original film’s impact. No, this feels more deliberate, like The Matrix Resurrections poking fun at itself as a curdling sequel the studio couldn’t resist milking decades after its expiration date.

The road less traveled back to the silver screen has been a long one, from an animated series with Mr. Juice hanging with Lydia to the defunct Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian sequel, and most recently Eddie Perfect’s reinvention “Beetlejuice the Musical” (the musical, the musical). It also hasn’t hurt that both Michael Keaton and Winona Ryder have enjoyed a career renaissance in addition to Burton striking Netflix gold with an Addams Family spinoff. Nostalgia aside, there was something about the original film that seemed fresh because nothing truly made sense, and yet the Netherworld seems to function in spite of it. The sequel expands upon those ideas, offering up some sneaky explanations, hanging lanterns on throwaway ideas, and confidently showing audiences a good time. The Maitlands were the core of the original, but the Deetz women are bonding this time around, and woe betide those who would divide them. Capturing the random zany spookiness of the original, the sequel feels slightly more mature yet also more experimental. Not everything works, but it has enough of what fans of the original want. It’s almost too much… which is exactly right.

It is at this point these two films deviate (Immaculate), because The First Omen simply made great choices in story, casting, and concept. As a prequel to The Omen trilogy, there’s no question we’re talking about mysticism, religion, and the birth of the Anti-Christ. Persisting similarities are still represented far better in this prequel film, including the conspiracy itself, how the audience shares the heroine’s dread, and the stacking clues promoting psychological horror in addition to the gore. Building a prequel into an established history works easier as a blueprint since writers know what they’re writing to, but it also works against some the originality. When watched in order, tropes and trappings can diminish the impact, but if done well, however, the shortcut is forgivable for the better experience. Stevenson also appears unafraid to delve into body horror when it comes to birthing, so consider this your only warning.

Ms. Sweeney throws herself into her role, carrying the production figuratively and literally like a virgin mother. The rest of the cast seems almost incidental, single-note constructs written to fill a role with little else in a way of proper back story; there are simply too many mysteries for Sister Cecilia’s POV to shoulder alone. Viewers looking for a relevant story will find it sidelined in favor of the film’s pregnancy porn, and even that appears lacking, likening its three-act structure to individual trimesters — not the ready source of dread the writers were trying for — while jumping indiscriminately from scene to scene. Call it unfair to suggest that writer Andrew Lobel and director Michael Mohan weren’t up to the task of a showcasing a young woman’s horror, but a runtime of less than ninety minutes suggest any original thinking ended after figuring out the budget money shots.

Getting the original Deadpool onto the big screen was a feat unto itself, one that required leaking secret test footage to the masses — it’s still a mystery who would have done such a vile and dishonorable thing, wink-wink, nudge-nudge, say no more — until audiences would no longer be denied. Due to the IP rights being reacquired by Disney after an amazing sequel, it reportedly took Reynolds eighteen treatments for Kevin Feige to green light this team up, thanks in no small part to Jackman feeling the itch only adamantium claws could scratch. 2023 was a less than epic year for Marvel movies due to strikes hindering production and promotion, resulting in this single MCU entry for the entirety 2024 carried by the Merc With a Mouth and his grumpy yellow-costumed colleague. It’s a gleeful celebration of pre-MCU fare infused with a decadent dose of classic comics and clever casting, with adrenaline-fueled fan service turned up to eleven and zero apologies for it.

Weather scientists have weighed in on the details of Twisters, saying the lingo is on the money… even if the tech is still the whimsey of science fiction. There are no radar systems portable enough to surround a tornado nor polymers portable enough to suck the moisture out of one, but if either thing was true, it might look a lot like this. Unlike the broken relationship that saw Hunt and Paxton reconciling throughout Twister, Kate and Tyler are strangers slowly learning their similarities while trench bonding. It’s a playful romance amid dire circumstances avoiding any social pitfalls to put off potential viewers, coupled with state-of-the-art weather effects and mass destruction: the ideal conditions for a great summer blockbuster to manifest at the box office.

This theatrical reboot is squarely aimed at Gosling’s fanbase, playing a character wrestling with mortality while puffing up like an invulnerable warrior for his best gal. A lot of the humor plays into “will he / won’t he / of course he will” build-ups along with a few surprise don’t-think-just-do-it moments that keep the fun moving along. Fans of Emily Blunt and her work in films like Edge of Tomorrow may wonder why she’s “merely the love interest” in a film featuring physically fit athletic stunt people, but the production makes no secret about it being “The Gosling Show.” In the same way twentieth-century superhero movies seemed incapable of taking themselves seriously, The Fall Guy can’t help winking at the audience at every opportunity, especially under the guise of making a big-budget sci-fi epic that looks eyerollingly cheesy.

It wasn’t our imagination! From the James Bond-inspired opening, Harry Potter-ish settings, Terminator 2 riffs, MCU hero references, and even a touch of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, this fourth installment impressively strings it all together. Gru is always cool (“Even when he isn’t?” “Especially when he isn’t!”) and the huge cast of characters all get their moments to shine. The production designers must have worked overtime to figure out the most interesting ways to create everything they’d need (“It’s impossible to make a cockroach-based transport look awesome!” “Hold my electric pencil.”) All this is heaped on top of a solid story foundation and Illumination’s trademark bring-it-all-in final act. It isn’t the best installment since the original; it’s the best of the series… and begs the question whether anything afterward is planned after pulling out all the stops.

Did anyone miss the part where Death is an actual parrot? The absurdity of this key idea is swiftly and expertly dispatched in the film’s opening, but the animation of this digital character was based upon the actor’s on-set appearance lending his voice along with the commanding presence of a painted-over performance. This incarnation is also haunted by the voices who call to him — souls in desperate need of release — a weight only a supernatural being could endure while simultaneously being crushed beneath it. Is it any wonder such an entity would accept any respite it could find, even with a strange girl who dared to try and make Death laugh? Of course, the time any reaper takes off for itself, the more tasks go undone in predictable ways, but the script s for this trope by using it for an opportunity instead of a timer counting down, and that make all the difference in the world.

While the cast works with what they have, the expanded elements feel forced right from the beginning. Dad can benefit from swimming; mom was diving before she was crawling; the son loves diving for coins off the bottom; the daughter has “the reach of a swimmer.” Gosh, we wonder why no one uses this wonderful pool anymore! There’s also the “everything is sinister” checklist, from the mandatory creepy pool tech to the (clownish?) childish voices coming out of the (storm?) side drain luring children with a (paper?) toy boat. Even the underlying mythology feels like a discarded M. Night Shyamalan plot stocked with scraps from Stephen King stories — hell, let’s even throw Ron Howard’s Cocoon in — but none of it as interesting as the original short. Nothing even exclusively happens at night, so the title would have made more sense to just call it Haunted Swimming Pool.

Directors Adil El and ArbiBilall Fallah (who took over from Michael Bay in 2020) return with their follow up to Bad Boys For Life, the current highest grossing installment of the franchise and one of the last films released before the pandemic closed theaters. With everything that’s changed in the four years since, Ride or Die does incredibly smart things with its storyline, not the least of which is embracing its main characters as being in their fifties. Even as Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny leaned into Old Man Indy, our Bad Boy heroes are neither immortal nor bulletproof; could they actually be (gasp!) mere human beings?! Rather than treating such restrictions as a crutch (or shoehorning a Shia LaBouf character in as an obvious replacement), Ride or Die builds believability into the story to go in new directions, shifting some of the heavy lifting to other characters doing their part without abandoning the main characters. This cleverly lifts the entire production, not only in of action and adventure but in raising the stakes and the ensuing hilarity, as good as the original 1995 introduction but also the funniest of the franchise.

Horror and vampire fans rejoice! Abigail builds cautiously with its kidnapping caper before transferring the action (and our victims-to-be) to a lockbox mansion dripping with clues for what’s about to happen. When the fangs finally come out, what follows is both exactly what viewers expect and surprisingly more than expected, twisting audience knowledge as the script starts flipping. Each attack brings more carnage while suggesting further possibilities, serving up moments of tension and giving deserving victims just enough hope until it’s wonderfully ripped away again. Playing into the no-good-guys-here trope to let bloody globules fly, alliances are formed and lines are drawn in a fight for survival against supernatural elements appearing in the real-life self-aware and snarky world.

Make no mistake: there’s a stern warning here not to let political divides destroy what has been built in cooperation, all without even mentioning what those are. Garland isn’t taking questions about how his Civil War came about; he’s only interested in the disconnect between photojournalists and the horrors they see through a camera lens — or simply the way humanity can too-easily set aside empathy for selfish desires. Dunst channels the same energy portraying Lee as she did with her character Justine from Lars von Trier’s excellent Melancholia, both affected and energized by the events surrounding her. Likewise, Spaeny’s Jessie has to grow up fast, leaving little room for mistakes as a series of near misses allows her to fail upward. The dynamic between these two women is what the director demands viewers watch, but once the search for war details is abandoned to comply, the conclusion feels either very ham-fisted or overly contrived. Anyone who’s watched Men may recognize a familiar dissatisfaction, but this movie is thankfully still better than that.

From the moment we meet Magnifico, hints of his paranoia are obvious, handsome smiles and charismatic facade be damned. From seeking his own power to putting down any threat to what he’s created (read: exclusively his), we’re never given a real reason why, just a shredded tapestry, something about “never again,” and a mysterious book of forbidden magic no one should ever use — plus more than a few clues he’s kind of a jerk. On the flipside, Asha has no power other than hope and spunk, but everything goes her way as long as she keeps trying; she never makes an unpopular decision or ever actually evolves, because obviously she was perfect just as she was. In the meantime, there are a ridiculous number of songs — each as mediocre as the next — in addition to a barrage of Easter eggs hinting at better Disney fare. Every decision seems to stop at the first idea anyone had and is never plussed in any way or given any complexity; does anyone there still Pixar anymore? Maybe it would have been a better idea to model this 100-year celebratory film after The Emperor’s New Groove and make fun of everything rather than peddle a lifeless husk dressed up like a feature film.

While this film may only be the next big loud theater entry to more casual moviegoers, detail-obsessed fans of the MonsterVerse are in for a treat. Not only does New Empire look incredible with splashes of color and marked improvements in VFX, it boasts the craziest battles since King of the Monsters. In context, even the weirdest glimpses from the trailers make sense, and the story is amazingly easy to follow considering huge swaths of time between human dialogue sequences. The Titans are front and center this time, from a sleepy downtime Godzilla to an overwhelmed and driven Kong. Viewers can feel the emotion coming from these creatures, including a perfect “I’m too old for this sh*t” expression when Kong realizes he has to confront Godzilla (again). There are a couple of surprises, too, which won’t be spoiled here, but with so many secrets being divulged out of Monarch’s media control, the ending of this latest entry means there are plenty of directions to go from here… as long as audiences keep showing up.

After a deadly prologue full of foreshadowing, viewers can settle in for all the ghostbusting fun to be had. There’s the core story about an artifact with an ancient big bad trapped inside (that will definitely escape), Ray’s story about an aging Ghostbuster who never stops believing (much like the actor himself), and plot points revolving around new characters played by Kumail Nanjiani, Emily Alyn Lind, and Patton Oswalt. While the new film shortchanges Logan Kim’s Podcast and Celeste O’Connor’s Lucky, the ads for Frozen Empire impressively never give away the most meaningful subplot — yes, it’s Phoebe-centric, and no, that won’t be spoiled here. Still, why the Spenglers +1 were suddenly entrusted to live in the firehouse and professionally bust ghosts as a business remains a mystery, even if Winston does run it like Ray’s Occult. Speaking of which, where did all the ghosts trapped at Egon’s farmhouse end up — you know, the ones containing a defeated manifestation of Gozer the Gozerian, Vinz Clortho, and Zuul? To quote Podcast (whispering), “Nobody knows.”

The most entertaining since the original? Possibly. After his turn as Bowser in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Jack Black has become even more Jack Black-ish, taking his performance and entertainment acumen seriously and enjoyably. Built around a story fully self-aware of its own tropes and willing to wink to the audience with them, Panda 4 hits the right highs and lows while stepping up the animation once again, including creating those special character moments that still surprise. Po has always possessed the same underestimate-me-at-your-peril qualities that made Star-Lord so formidable in the Guardians of the Galaxy films, although it should be no surprise a nerd fanboy who became what he loved is secretly one step ahead in the narrative. With a slow build-up, a solid middle, and an ending that exceeds expectations, this fourth installment should have no problem luring fans back to theaters… especially as the first animated family film of the year.

Viewers made comparisons to Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back and The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers following early showings, and while there’s some truth to that, Dune: Part Two goes further, confronting kismet and karma head-on. If the path forward is inevitable, even one dictated and planted by false prophets, is choosing one’s destiny or avoiding it what brings it to fruition? Embracing the core elements of the fable “Appointment in Samarra,” the part of Death is played by Paul Atreides himself, making it clear why Chalamet is more than just this generation’s Willy Wonka, evolving from the son of an assassinated duke into a force of nature. When the dust settles and the bodies are counted, there’s no longer a question of whether Paul can be stopped… but whether he can stop himself.

Turn off your brain and enjoy the show! It’s a sign of the time the bad guys are affluenza-affected tech bros played by Josh Hutcherson and David Witts; who doesn’t want to see lawyered-up Teflon millionaires using the system as a bulletproof shield finally get some due throwback comeuppance? Toss in some seasoned pros like Jeremy Irons, Phylicia Rashad, and Minnie Driver for a little street cred, stir up a few LAN parties disguised as call centers with tricked-out neon-glow desktop computers, and be sure to victimize retirees by plastering their faces across wall-sized monitors like bounties in a shooting gallery, all setting the stage for some Charlie Bronson-style payback overkill. Toward the end, the pyrotechnics and fisticuffs inevitably fail to stay ahead of the ridiculousness, but the bar is set for popcorn flicks in 2024 to make cinematic vigilante hearts flutter.

As a deconstruction of both a hero’s journey and a villain’s origin, Ahmed and Moretz bring Ballister and Nimona endearingly to life; these characters need each other in ways they don’t first understand in the context of a bad guy needing a hench-worthy sidekick. There’s a mischievous childlike energy about Nimona, a demonic Peter Pan who’s never been human but yearns for kinship all the same, risking exposure and rejection for just a chance. As a consummate shapeshifter and force of nature, Nimona’s human form is a choice, such as when Ballister remarks, “And now you’re a boy,” to which Nimona darkly replies, “I am today.” As kindred spirits with nothing left to lose, the self-aware mustache-twirling banter is as entertaining as their setbacks are heartbreaking, but confronting the assumptions people make about others and themselves are the most devastating parts of the narrative. This is where the film shines, daring viewers to let Nimona unconditionally into their hearts.

Nora’s life has been a combination of changes and opportunities, from emigrating from South Korea to Canada as a child, moving to New York City to pursue a writing career, and entering into marriage… and she’s good with that. Hae Sung, on the other hand, re “the girl Nora” whom he grew up with before she moved away, still drawn to her after reconnecting with her online a decade earlier. Husband and fellow writer Arthur thinks too much for his own good, wanting to be closer to Nora while knowing there’s a part of her he can never connect with… the same part that Hae Sung always will. With all the trappings of a romantic love triangle, the narrative skews toward the less-explored drama: how do we move forward from here? With aspects to cheer for and fear for in each character, this personal production believably bleeds angst and regret, earning the extra time taken to tie everything together.

For both Emma Stone and her character Bella, the only worthy word is “fearless.” It confronts womanhood head-on and isn’t afraid to explore or say what needs to be said. Ruffalo’s unsuspecting Duncan believes he’s hit the jackpot in luring Bella from her home, but she was neither discouraged nor coddled, enabling her to encounter new situations without the emotional baggage a childhood might inflict. Set in stylized Victorian locales across late 19th-century Europe, Bella is fascinating to watch, from learning basic words and concepts to the detached scientific approach Godwin instilled into her, suring in complexity those who once viewed her as eternally simple. Poor Things is a sexy, thought-provoking dark comedy, invoking “Flowers for Algernon” by way of Frankenstein with a lot to say about agency, empathy, and expectation.

We can tell the boy is depressed because he gets into fights at school, and we can tell the stepmother is depressed because she stays in bed. This shorthand seems to be good enough for Miyazaki’s narrative but feels too subtle to be affecting, reducing Mahito to more of a spectator than a participant. When the boy does act, everything inexplicably works out, as if the act of taking action was all that was required, never with any worry or doubt. Is he wise beyond his years or intentionally underwritten? Even the lines drawn to depict the character seem simple, but it isn’t clear if it’s to show Mahito’s youth — the elder grannies all seem shorter than the boy with grotesque giant heads — or to show him as pretty and upper class like his stepmother and father. Only when the stepmother becomes distraught does her face gain any distention detail, but at least someone felt something. It’s clear events are happening, but when the main character is given little ability to emote, viewers are given little reason to care. Finally there’s the gray heron himself, or “the Heron Man” as he’s later referred; whereas Mahito is dull, the heron is merely annoying.

All the fun from the first film feels forced this go around, making it hard to ignore the infinite cycle of pretty new location, talks go sour, fight, repeat. Kudos to the production crew for creating hammerhead subs, squidithopters, and mounted rock-burrowing assassin bugs as original visuals from middle-management studio notes. “Can this be like that Star Wars cantina thing but made out of shipwrecks like in The Little Mermaid?” or “What if we stole every cool James Bond villain lair idea and crammed it into the second act?” and finally “Let’s do a big Lord of the Rings-type battle for a finale!” If LOTR was a trilogy about walking from place to place, Aquaman 2 is a sequel about swimming from place to place, covering presumably thousands of miles of ocean at the speed of plot from one danger-prone digital set piece to another. The only weight given to this sequel is Willem Defoe’s character dying off-screen due to scheduling issues, a story that sounds far better than this borrowed and outright stolen mishmash of a film.

With no factory yet to speak of, Willy inexplicably attempts to set up shop in the one city ruled by a chocolatier mafia enforced by sweet-toothed officials like Keegan-Michael Key as Chief of Police and an underutilized Rowen Atkinson as Father Julius; never heard of starting small, kid? Like a remake of Oliver Twist set almost a century later, the borrowed story elements are sprinkled with enough nostalgia to feel like a Wonka story once the music starts, which is to say immediately. There’s an innocence to this Willy and his world view, believing in basic human goodness (especially in those he shouldn’t), but he gets by with the right allies, exotic recipes, and a little luck. As a Broadway show made for the big screen, it pushes the right buttons of hope, nostalgia, and comeuppance in a year when Godzilla and Oppenheimer are destroying the planet, so a little hope isn’t a bad thing.