Bill Goodykoontz

More curiosity than movie, “Michael,” a biopic so reverential towards its subject, Michael Jackson, that it borders on worshipful, can’t seem to figure out what it is.

When it comes to dumb fun, generally speaking you want a pretty good balance between the two elements. “Normal” ignores this notion, gleefully so.

When you can sell a movie in which you spend a large chunk of time talking to a rock and still manage to be magnetic, you're doing something right. And in "Project Hail Mary," Gosling definitely is.

It’s creepy as all get out and features a great performance from Nina Kiri, on-screen alone for most of the film, as a podcast host who has moved back to her childhood home to take care of her dying mother (Michèle Duquet). Things get weird.

I admire what Gyllenhaal attempts in The Bride! I was less satisfied with the execution.

What’s most remarkable about the film, which was shot in Iraq, are the performances. The cast members are not actors. They’re non-professionals, at least, acting for the first time. Yet their performances feel so genuine, so lived-in.

In the end, How to Make a Killing is fine, fun, a nice diversion starring, if no longer the flavor of the month, then a good actor elevating the material around him.

All I can say is, no matter who made it, no matter who paid for it, no matter who it's about, "Melania" is a singularly bad movie.

The Testament of Ann Lee is a biographical film about a real person, though one about whom a great number of details aren’t known. It runs up against some rough patches during the telling of the story, but overall it is immensely enjoyable, an unflinching (and nonjudgmental) look at faith, no matter how bizarrely we may think it’s practiced.

Skarsgård makes the character a little sad, a lot delusional but never a joke. And he makes “Dead Man’s Wire” an underrated gem not to sleep on.

Marty Supreme is breakneck, it’s nerve wracking and it is above all entertaining as all get out. It makes you eager to see what Chalamet’s going to do next.

Avatar: Fire and Ash will doubtless join its predecessors in the billion-dollar club. It can't miss. It follows the formula of the previous two films — stunning advancements in film technology coupled with mind-numbing plot, evidently a lucrative combo. Don't get me wrong, these movies look great, genuinely so. They're just so dumb.

It’s fun, it’s smart and yes, it actually does have something to say. Delivered in this way, I think people are more inclined to listen.

It is devastating and magnetic and most of all brilliant. Don’t miss it.

Grande and Erivo bring that relationship to life, making “Wicked: For Good” more emotional than you’d expect. These are two really good actors whose investments in what could have been let’s-put-on-a-show theater-kid performances go much deeper.

Lawrence takes up that challenge and then some, with a performance that could have been rendered in broad strokes, and sometimes is, but also relies on small moments, a look in her eyes, a quick movement, to draw us in and keep us there.

Every image feels intentional, with nothing left to chance. (This results in some amazing images, many of them involving Stone’s face.) Along with the precision of the performances, this makes Bugonia one of the more enjoyably weird times at the movies in recent memory.

Bigelow brilliantly builds tension, to the extent that the third version we see is every bit as nerve-wracking as the first if not more so. This is nail-biting stuff, agonizing to sit through.

The whole movie is amazing.

It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever, a couple of not-so-wise men said a long time ago — and in a better movie.

My interpretation is that it’s a scary, funny film with a lot beneath the surface. And it’s certainly preferable to watching the news.

Butler keeps you hooked and keeps you hoping. It’s a really good performance in a good movie, and proof of Aronofsky’s versatility. There’s some virtuosity in there somewhere, too.

It isn’t the kind of movie where you nitpick the details. It’s the kind of movie where you float along from one scene to the next, buoyed by catchy hits like “Golden” and “Soda Pop.” They don’t just serve the story, but drive it.

This is a crazy movie, in the best possible way. Body horror films have to be willing to get nuts to really work ― “The Substance” knew this, for instance. And Franco and Brie, along with Shanks, fully commit to this.

It’s a jumbled, intriguing, inconsistent mess — and yes, it is uncomfortable by design.

Truth, justice and the American way” mean far different things than they did when Donner made his “Superman” film. Except they don’t. Some people have just tried to hijack them for their own political purposes. “Superman” is Gunn’s attempt to take them back. Let’s hope it works.

A fun and thrilling film which at times plays like a car race somebody stuck a movie into the middle of.

It’s a horror-movie coming-of-age story, absolutely bonkers and gory and at its heart an art film about finding your own way in a world that has never made any sense since you’ve been in it, which is probably what the world feels like to any kid growing up, only most kids don’t have to protect themselves from zombies who want to devour them.

It’s tempting to say that Song went a more traditional route, but her second film is in fact a bold reshaping of the romcom. I can’t wait for her third.

No, it’s not “The Shining.” It’s not trying to be. But it is a salve when we need one most, and that’s a lot.

Part of the fun of watching Mountainhead, the entertaining first feature film from “Succession” creator Jesse Armstrong, is marveling at the antics of the tech bros who already run a good chunk of the world, and want to run more. Part of the horror is how realistic it all seems. Part of the disappointment is how far it falls into “Three Stooges”-level farce.

With attacks on diversity and inclusion more abundant and dangerous than ever, “Deaf President Now!” is more relevant than ever.

I like movies like “Rosario” — creepy little horror films with enough scares to keep you on edge and enough of a story to keep you invested.

Too often in this long, long slog of Marvel movies, we are expected to have an advanced degree in Marvel-ology to understand even the trailer for a twice-removed TV offshoot. Until the very end, Thunderbolts* is free of this intellectual-property tyranny, content to carve its own funky little way.

Director Lorcan Finnegan is relentless in his pursuit of disquiet. But “The Surfer” is not just an exercise in making a hard-to-watch movie. It’s also a commentary on toxic masculinity and the absurdity of bro culture that poisons X and podcasts and other forms of media.

It doesn’t all add up; it doesn’t even all make sense. Which befits a story involving a man lost in loss, desperate to regain what he cannot. Reality isn’t as important here as feeling something. If you give “The Shrouds” a chance, you will.

Sinners is a fascinating movie, overflowing with creativity and bold ideas.

Don’t think about the details too much. Just enjoy the exquisite agony of watching people squirm, and you’ll like “Drop” just fine.

The ideas are there. Or at least mostly there. The performances are first-rate, particularly those of Vikander and Olsen, waging a war of wills — the tension is palpable. Maybe the payoff just can’t match the build-up.

On Becoming a Guinea Fowl is not the first film about family secrets coming to light through grief, but it may be the most original.

The Alto Knights is a good movie, but one that feels like it could have been great. And for what it’s worth, although I’m still not sure why it’s here, De Niro’s Pesci imitation is killer.

Black Bag, Steven Soderbergh’s outstanding new film, is sleek, cool, polished, smart, smooth — if Soderbergh were a thief, he’d leave no fingerprints.

Mostly “Novocaine” is just fun. And mostly, that’s enough.

Maybe the Manson murders are not meant for easy explanation, which in part seems to be what Morris is getting at. Maybe we’ll never really know the answers. But we don’t seem to be able to stop looking for them.

The movie has its moments (some of the songs are fun, as always), but like Plankton’s efforts at taking over the world, it’s ultimately a disappointment.

Hausmann-Stokes won’t let the film get sappy; Martin-Green and Harris ensure it. Instead, it’s an unflinching look at a health crisis, a film that arrives at what it’s trying to say through unconventional means, and is all the more effective for it.

There is a hazy, gauzy quality to all of this, which keeps things just out of reach. Certainly, it looks like a lot of fun to be young, beautiful and rich in Naples. But Parthenope is also out of reach, almost an idea as much as a character. What that idea is I’m not quite certain.

You just have to hope for some fun along the way. The movie delivers that every now and then, but not nearly enough. Bigger! Dumber! Something! I’d settle for just better.

It’s surprising how much you miss the star power of the original Avengers bunch. Or maybe it’s not surprising. Whatever the case, watching this movie too often feels like you suspect there’s a better party going on next door, but you can’t get in.

One of the things that really makes “Companion” more entertaining than it might otherwise have been is the strength of the supporting cast. Gage and Guillén are particularly good as a mismatched couple who discover more about each other during the admittedly eventful stay at the cabin.

It’s good, it’s intriguing, but in the end it’s nothing to howl about.

It’s 3 hours and 35 minutes long (including a 15-minute intermission), and while it’s full and complete, it never drags or feels padded. It is, simply put, a great movie.

It stands on its own as another in a long line of attempted explanations of what made Dylan Dylan. The more the merrier.

There is an edginess to Babygirl, an uncomfortableness that is part and parcel of the subject matter. But it’s somehow accessible. Maybe that’s a plus, maybe that’s a minus; perhaps it depends on your taste for this sort of thing. But there’s undeniable power in Kidman’s performance, one of the most interesting and, along the way, best of the year.

Even at its most disgusting, and it does get disgusting, the film is engrossing. It’s not that you can’t look away. It’s that you want to look and look again. That’s the lure of the vampire. And it’s the lure of “Nosferatu,” Eggers’ best film (at least so far).

At 2 hours and 17 minutes, the film is a little bloated, though the expansiveness and inventiveness of the filmmaking make that sound like complaining about too much dessert.

There’s a danger in critiquing the movie you wish a director had made instead of the one they did, but in this case, Heller did make a horror film and then backed off from the horror aspects.

If the path seems familiar — hard work and a good attitude triumph over all — it’s because it’s a successful one. Robles is a real-life hero worth rooting for; Jerome makes him relatable and human.

I liked Moana 2 better than the original. Its story is darker and more challenging, its stakes are high and its message is surprisingly contemporary and relevant.

We’ve seen it all before — maybe not quite as spectacular, maybe not quite as dumb. It’s Washington who ultimately makes “Gladiator II” stand apart from the first film and makes it a lot more fun than it has any right to be.

Wicked isn’t the best movie you’ll see this year, but it’s almost certainly the most movie. … There’s not a frame wasted, not a second of down time. It’s a little like having dessert for dinner, as well as for the appetizer and dessert again, too. And it’s fun, a good time at the movies.

With “A Real Pain,” Jesse Eisenberg — who wrote, directed and stars in the film — pulls off a kind of magic trick. He’s made a movie with backdrops of pain and despair, both personal and existential, that is also funny, charming and something approaching uplifting. Ta-da!

Juror #2 isn’t quite forgettable, but it’s also not the movie we’ll remember Eastwood for.

Smile 2 is a bigger movie in every way. Bigger isn’t necessarily better, but in this case, it’s not bad.

It’s a withering satire and a horror movie. Maddin, working with co-directors Galen and Evan Johnson, makes a good point, and he makes it over and over. But he makes it with his trademark absurdist humor, and the cast is so talented that it takes what are intentional stereotypes and runs with them.

The Apprentice — its title a play on Trump’s original identity in relation to Cohn, as well as the reality show that helped get him elected president — is well-made, entertaining in its way (particularly for fans of good acting) and not at all surprising.

There is an honesty in this performance, a genuineness that really elevates the film. It’s not always easy to watch, and it’s certainly not a lot of fun. But it is impressive, and that’s what carries it.

By the time the main vampire shows up, Salem’s Lot has already been rendered toothless.

This is grasping at something, or really at everything, everywhere, all the time. It feels like a bunch of unfinished ideas, despite the lengthy gestation period.

It’s a serviceable movie, nothing more but — also important — nothing less. And did we mention it has George Clooney and Brad Pitt?

I love movies like this — sweet little surprises that stick with you.

It’s only Fargeat’s second feature after 2017’s “Revenge.” That was a good movie. “The Substance” is a substantial leap forward and a film people will rightfully be talking about for a while.

It is a sweet, gentle, at times beautiful movie that does not gloss over the ugliness Steele, a transgender woman, references.

It is McAvoy you will remember, because you won’t be able to forget his full-throttle performance.

In the hands of three gifted actors — Natasha Lyonne, Elizabeth Olsen and Carrie Coon — it is a beautiful film, one of the best of the year.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice relies on your familiarity with and memory of those performances. It’s a fun journey down memory lane. It won’t take you anywhere new, particularly, but let’s face it, that’s not why most people will take the trip.

Strange Darling is an original, well worth seeing — and then talking about.

Do all of the aspects of the story hold up? It’s to the credit of the film and Kravitz that those questions never occur to you while you’re watching “Blink Twice.” You’re too engaged to notice.

It’s a dark comedy about class warfare, government overreach and infectious disease. It’s a lot more fun than that sounds.

Movies about movies don’t always work. Even in this case, the films Scorsese discusses are superior to the one we’re watching. (Most of them, anyway.) But “Made in England” is so good in its own right, as a gateway to so many remarkable films, that it’s a great starting point for the uninitiated and a great reminder for everyone else.

Ultimately, the movie is really boring. Any charm or spark it might have had is quashed by a lack of strong direction and writing.

There’s something about a lot of the film as a whole that makes it feel as if Lanthimos is trying a little too hard.

It’s a heartfelt film, and Squib, finally leading a film at 94, makes it that much better.

The whole isn't quite as interesting as the sum of its parts, is another way to put it. The parts, though, are quite good on their own.

“Brats” is definitely McCarthy’s journey. What saves it are the people he brings along for the ride.

A sequel, by definition, can’t be as innovative as the original. And there is no sure-fire crying scene here like — spoiler alert — the fate of Bing Bong in the first film. (I rewatched it again to make sure it still has the desired effect. It, ahem, does.)

The payoffs are worth it — if you’ve got the stomach for them.

How much you enjoy all this will depend on how much you like Glazer. She’s funny, no question, and sometimes intentionally grating. But she also gives off a genuineness. Maybe she is just saying out loud what other people are thinking.

This truly is what a summer movie looks like — and yes, feels like.

Powell and Arjona have electric chemistry. It’s a joy to watch their back-and-forth — not quite the banter of classic screwball comedies, but close.

Schoenbrun’s direction is masterful, both in terms of what they get out of the actors (Smith and Lundy-Paine give committed performances) and in their visual language. The look of the film is both haunting and inviting — not unlike that of a nightmare, or a horror film. “I Saw the TV Glow” has elements of both, and more.

If you stick with it, Evil Does Not Exist offers rich rewards, as well as lessons, no matter how inscrutable at times.

More brains and less brawn probably isn’t a prescription for box-office success for a movie like this. But it’s a movie I’d rather see.

The Last Stop in Yuma County is a promising debut, and a welcome chance to watch some actors you’ve seen in other things get a chance to branch out a little. It’s dark fun, assuming you find watching escalating tension a good time. And why wouldn’t you?

It is incredibly stupid. Gleefully stupid. Relentlessly stupid. It’s also really funny. Is it any good? That does not seem to be a major consideration.

The Fall Guy isn’t exactly Oscar bait. Which is fine. Instead, it’s the rare movie that succeeds on its own terms, doing exactly what it sets out to do, which is entertain its audience.

It’s nobody’s masterpiece, but it is an exceptionally promising start for Mohr, making his feature debut as a director.