Asher Luberto

Auggie is at its best when Felix is vulnerable. The same goes for the actor playing Felix. Kind hasn’t been this good since A Serious Man.

It’s clear that Thorwarth was trying to say something about how we judge people by their color, not their character. But the message is garbled, doused in blood, and lost in viscera, which makes its weak, half-hearted attempts at something to say even harder to stomach.

While The Sonata has no shortage of gripping moments, it’s still missing the weirdness and stylishness that made the similarly themed “Rosemary’s Baby” or “The Frantic” classics.

Bright spots are found in the supporting cast, though the less said about Faizon Love‘s portrayal of a black belt grocery clerk, the better. Walken is legitimately great as an old guy trying to be hip, a sort of exaggerated version of what Thurman is doing as the cool but protective mom. They just aren’t enough to pull The War With Grandpa and De Niro out of the gutter.

Despite the best efforts of McCarthy, and a winsome Spencer as her sidekick, Thunder Force is more like Shazam! Lite. It wants us to laugh at genre tropes, but this crude and unoriginal dreck is just comedy Kryptonite.

The horror genre also comes with a short list of demands that must be followed: Build a tense mood, a terrifying atmosphere, and tumultuous characters. “The Boy 2” rejects all of these. Instead, director William Brent Bell settles for a basement full of cliches.

It’s a twisty tale of secrets, cliches, and Lifetime characters that could only come out this month–it’s impossible to imagine this coming out in December, that’s for sure.

It’s a dull, plodding retread with new souped-up VFX that’s deeply uninvolving.

The whole thing is a wildly uneven, extremely repetitive mess that could have used a few rewrites, as well as another look at the genial, genre-bending source material.

If you’re in the mood for an action flick without imagination, then The Misfits is the film for you. Recycling genre tropes, characters, and camerawork, The Misfits feels like you’re watching a montage of better movies.

The Tax Collector flings blood, guts, testosterone and Latinx characters to the wall to see what sticks. And in many ways, it pulls that off, especially when all those things are literally splattered on walls.

To call it undercooked is an understatement.

As good as she is, and as timely as the film can be, it is frustrating that the villain seems to have waltzed in from a 1930s noir.