Angie Han

The impression Pretty Lethal leaves behind is one of unfulfilled potential, an exciting premise executed as a fitfully fun but mostly forgettable distraction.

The robot war is mere pretext for the saga of a woman learning to love again, starring a celebrity whose public persona is largely built around her willingness to let herself love again. Never mind the fact that there is no actual human love interest — in structure and theme, Atlas is a J.Lo rom-com in shiny metal packaging.

As adept as Together is at capturing the challenges of the pandemic — the uncertainty, the anger, the bone-deep exhaustion — it’s rather less convincing as a love story.

Ballad of a Small Player has plenty of flash, as befits the story of a man whose everyday wear consists of jewel-tone velvet suits and silk ascots. But there’s not much substance to be found underneath the consciously cheap glamour.

While the Hulu release ultimately adopts a tone of triumph, its themes of empowerment ring hollow coming from such a thinly written script. It’s most persuasive as a portrait of the frequently toxic culture surrounding those apps to begin with.

While Taurus does eventually get around to making a point — something about how the toxic combination of fame, addiction, and the music biz can destroy a young talent — it feels for most of its 98-minute run time like a plotless meander through one dude’s very awful week

There’s a distinctive eye here, and a promising sense of ambition. But in its current form, there’s not enough meat on its (admittedly cool-looking) bones to justify its 106-minute run time.

The film’s mimicry might be deft enough to pass muster here and there. But it doesn’t take an eagle eye to notice that Kate‘s got few ideas of its own.

The crime comedy ends not as a fat stack of jokes but a jumble of loose change — not entirely worthless, but not amounting to a whole lot, either.

Shotgun Wedding amounts to an action romantic comedy in which the action is uninspired, the romance tepid and the comedy flat — such that not even rom-com queen Jennifer Lopez can elevate it above aggressive mediocrity.

Its potential for magic is dulled by uneven performances, unconvincing chemistry and an uninspiring script. Summering ends up a movie that’s easier to appreciate for what it’s trying to do than love for what it’s actually doing.

The film leans into action-comedy, and for a while, coasts by on the pre-sold likability of its cast.

A forgettable blend of unearned saccharinity and unacknowledged sourness, the Michael Showalter-directed dramedy capably proves that Mom is the true angel of the season but falls well short of proving that Christmas is worth all her fussing in the first place.

It should hurt to watch such a relentlessly ruthless piece of work. Yet its savagery feels blunted when nearly every character but Jimmy feels underwritten and nearly every relationship built on plot contrivance.

Competent enough to be dull and nowhere near bold enough to be interesting, the new crime thriller by John Swab (Body Brokers) evaporates from memory even faster than it can dole out plot twists.

Freelance fails to deliver on every front. Worse, it barely seems to try.

The buddy comedy does a better job of betraying its filmmakers’ lack of imagination than it does conjuring any real laughs.