Alex Saveliev

Nothing To Do doesn’t really do much of anything.

For a sci-fi feature, it’s certainly not visually-stimulating; perhaps it would’ve worked better as an audio-book.

If you enjoy being sober around your trippin’ buddies, then Tyger Tyger may be for you, but you’re much more likely to feel left out.

Eastwood is a formidable filmmaker, a force of nature, whose films like Mystic River will forever remain in the pantheon of Great Cinema. Alas, Cry Macho may likewise be forever regarded as a perplexing glimpse at a different side of the man, one who's created this macho persona and who now attempts to absolve himself, to only – pardon my crude use of the idiom – dig his own grave.

It Snows All the Time resembles a prolonged PSA with all the production values and depth of an infomercial.

In its favor, the film is competently edited, and the low production values aren’t too apparent – thankfully, it’s at least decently assembled.

Shabbily structured, with barely any tension, characterization, scares, or thematic depth, Consecration, due to its utter lack of inspiration, loses the audience’s concentration within minutes, and may even lead to constipation (okay, maybe not the last part, but you get my drift).

The fact that pretty much nothing makes sense renders the dull narrative that much more difficult to bear. So many questions arise regarding the laws established in this film’s universe, I frankly don’t even know where to start. So I won’t

The filmmaker’s sophomore feature fails to generate any semblance of momentum or suspense. It’s filled with laughable lines of dialogue and jarringly poor editing. Mario Van Peebles single-handedly imbues it with enough gravitas to make it somewhat watchable.

Yes, it’s that kind of movie: ludicrous but seemingly unaware of its own pretensions, never quite so-bad-it’s-good, but rarely good enough to rise above bad. The filmmaker seems confident that he’s assembled an “elevated horror,” minimalist masterpiece. Unfortunately, the result is just minimal.

If Pachman intended to reiterate the difficult plight of migrant workers, our disregard and abuse of them, then point made, I guess. Yet for a film titled Beneath Us, it certainly never digs deep under the surface.

The writer and the director rub our faces in muck until all we see is darkness, providing the faintest ray of light at the end. You will be infuriated – not so much at the witnessed injustices as at the filmmaking team for subjecting you to over two hours of grief and misery.

There may be a lot going on here, but none of it sticks; there’s no momentum or a sense of purpose. In other words, Swift fails to achieve lift-off, over and over.

Prepare for a threadbare, hole-ridden plot with cardboard characters, whose ludicrous dialogue is matched by the stupidest twists in recent memory. After a feature like this, the only thing that’s on the line is Gibson’s career.

On paper, You’re Dating a Narcissist! may have looked like a breezy, relatable comedy. In execution, however, a film about narcissism turns out to be almost terminally self-absorbed.

Goi and his screenwriter Anthony Jaswinski must have thought that simply stuffing the film with as many shock tactics as possible would suffice. It doesn’t. This ship goes down with her captains.

Hardcore gorehounds will be disappointed by the lukewarm scares. Fans of throwback films will groan at the lack of tongue-in-cheek references. Anyone who’s seen a film will groan at the stupidity of it all.

An eccentric local priest spouts nonsense, blood gushes out of the shower, bodies twist and contort at impossible angles, and creatures from hell crawl towards the camera. By the time the convoluted, shrieky finale arrives, it all blends together into nothing more than dull background noise. Your investment in the story will be indirectly proportional to its running time.

A commendable subject matter does not a good movie make. Tape is inherently misguided, a queasily voyeuristic project, rendered nearly-unwatchable by its pseudo-artistic tendencies and patronizing tone.

No one would rationally expect the man behind Disneynature fare such as Penguins, Elephant, and Diving with Dolphins to make his directorial debut with a demonic horror feature.Yet here we are, witnessing David Fowler perform a 180° swivel, from anthropomorphizing animals to slaughtering human beings in Welcome to the Circle. The results clearly demonstrate that he should’ve stuck to voicing chimpanzees.

It's jaw-dropping how slapdash Sheridan's approach is to what's supposed to be the heart and soul of the story – the bonding between Hannah and Connor. The characters are so cardboard, it's a wonder they don't catch fire.

Perhaps the worst thing about the writer/director/star’s feature is that it basks in the excess it purports to condemn, confident that pounding the viewer into submission is the way to go, in addition to ending on a hypocritical note that defies everything that’s occurred up to that point.

Watching the multiple, nonsensical, seizure-inducing sequences, set to bottom-of-the-barrel, thunderous EDM and homemade melodramatic beats feels like being smacked in the head repeatedly by a blaring subwoofer.

The plot lurches from one awkwardly-staged, heavy-handed, poorly-lit, bathed in eye-scorching soft-focus sequence to another with little regard for tonal shifts or narrative fluidity.

The writer-director’s perverse, continuous, and purposeful avoidance of any semblance of genuine emotion or coherence results in an aggressively unpleasant experience.

Everything is one-note, dull and, worst of all, pretentious to the nth degree.

The actors do what they can, but even the talent assembled here can’t help getting swallowed up in the Shyamalan vortex of nonsense.

Nary a moment rings true, nary a moment elicits anything close to chills or dread – or, at the very least, unintentional laughs.

Nothing here is left to the imagination, Pesce running down the list of clichés and ensuring he includes every single one. Once the realization that this is yet another cheap-o retread settles in (about 10 minutes in), the rest becomes agonizingly painful to sit through.

From its unimaginative opening, involving a dumb tourist falling to her death to the anticlimactic day-lit finale (if you get this far, you deserve some sort of Steve Irwin award), Black Water: Abyss will make you want to Crawl back into Lake Placid. To reiterate: if you’ve come for the croc, you’ll be sorely disappointed. If you’ve come for anything else… well, why did you come at all?

An inkling of an inventive concept lurks somewhere deep within the murk. Unfortunately, you'll be hard-pressed to spot it amidst all the meandering diversions, prepubescent humor, imbecilic dialogue, and curious casting choices.

Its cardinal sin is a complete, total, utter, extreme lack of originality. The title does it justice, really. Sacrilege will most likely be viewed as such by horror film aficionados.

Banks ends up with a glossy Hollywood flick disguised as a straight-to-VOD grindhouse title. It feels dishonest, forced, and overstuffed.

Alas, instead of a scathing critique of racial injustice, a revamping of the “man seeks revenge after his family is murdered/kidnapped” trope, the director delivers gratuitously violent, vulgar, clichéd, jaw-droppingly sexist, and racist cinematic bile.

Designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator, in equal parts juvenile and offensive, Purge of Kingdom is the worst film I’ve seen so far in 2019. If a fart gag makes your sides split with laughter, go right ahead – otherwise, avoid at all costs.

Who wants to be subjected to water torture for 2 hours?