Brian Truitt

The result is another middling comic-book adventure for the fan-favorite Spider-Man antihero that leans kooky and earnest and even saps some of its title character’s bite, though does give the snarling Venom a new aspect: a big baddie daddy.

The movie version is simply a poor adaptation, trading the vibrancy and refreshing spirit of the original show for all-too-familiar teen-movie angst, with an out of place leading man.

An all-star slow-burn mystery for much of its 102-minute runtime until it suddenly decides to become a vomitous reveal-fest doling out all its twists as fast as possible. A storytelling choice, for sure, and one that wastes a talented crew of actors and fails to pay proper homage to the old-school films it references.

The combination of the two showcases fun chemistry and antics, although surrounded by a formulaic narrative that action junkies have all seen before.

Eastwood, who spends much of Uprising squinting like his dad, Clint, plays buttoned-up straight man to Boyega, a dynamic that's initially grating yet finds its legs in the monster-punching stuff later.

It’s a lot of soapy melodrama and underdeveloped characters that never really go anywhere.

Lively pulls off one of her best movie roles so far – ranking up there with her surprisingly delicious shark flick “The Shallows” – and is surrounded by plenty of visual spectacle, yet is waylaid by a narrative that lacks excitement. Even the twists seem painfully ordinary.

Annette attempts to be an avant-garde rock opera, a farce about modern star culture and a tragic family drama all in one bizarre, head-scratching concoction, and not even a revved-up Driver or songs by the cult art-pop group Sparks can lift the film to its lofty aims.

The movie shoots for the moon with an intriguing dual-role conceit but wildly misses the mark. Hackneyed dialogue, a thin and silly plot fumbling the ambition of the concept, and a mixed bag of visual effects all leave this one just for the Smith completists.

Legend of the Sword’s overemphasis on the supernatural and the visually spectacular mortally wounds an often-rollicking adventure.

Rather than being clever like the original movie, a horror-tinged sci-fi satire/parental cautionary tale, sequel "M3GAN 2.0" is the type of combo goofy comedy/undercooked action flick that would earn an epic sick burn from M3GAN herself.

The new edition is comparatively an air ball: It’s less a family-friendly film with a hoops legend and more a crassly referential love letter to all things Warner Bros.

You’ve heard of an October surprise. This is a November disappointment.

On the whole, Argylle just isn’t as exciting or refreshing as what Vaughn did with his stellar “Kingsman: The Secret Service."

Beat-thumping techno songs and score by Nine Inch Nails help it all go down easier, as does OG “Tron” guy Jeff Bridges dude-ing up a few scenes, but traveling to that nifty high-tech landscape in this third "Tron" outing has become a chore rather than a pleasure.

There’s plenty to sink your teeth into when Cage is this superbly outrageous and manically inspired while Hoult, who’s got great comedic timing, is just as batty in his own way. Everything else about Renfield needs to go back in the coffin.

The raucous comedy fails to keep up with its charismatic star.

The movie meanders when they're not all together. Hahn, however, singlehandedly keeps the second Bad Moms — as she also did for the first — entertaining with her crass, over-the-top Carla.

The rescue drama The Finest Hours rocks the boat in terms of blizzard-blitzed sea thrills but leaves you cold with its side love story.

While teenage star Mckenna Grace infuses the aging property with a needed burst of youthful energy, co-writer/director Jason Reitman (son of original filmmaker Ivan Reitman) is more interested in looking backward with the sequel, leaning way too hard on old characters, story beats, plot points and zingers.

What keeps it all watchable is Rodriguez’s magnetism.

The Glass Castle offers up a movie clan to beat in terms of complete dysfunction, though the brutal and heart-wrenching film is in its own way just as much of a mess.

Pratt can do lovable rogue in his sleep at this point, and Brown’s got a spunky young woman down pat. Both of them have some good lines and emotional moments but they mostly feel plug-and-play rather than mining anything new and exciting.

Ted 2 locks into a nice groove whenever it's just Ted and John being buds (and smoking bud), and Seyfried actually adds to the chemistry. If only the nonstop parade of craziness and lack of story coherence around them wasn't so hard to bear.

The last half hour is filled with cheeseball visual effects, B-movie monsters and Banks — by far the most enjoyable aspect — hamming it up the best she can.

For every really cool interaction Downey's hero has with one of his animals as a caring listener, there's either an over-the-top spit take or an eye-rolling cheesy line of dialogue.

A mix of slow-burn religious mystery and old-school adventure that egregiously fails to utilize its greatest hit: Bonnie Aarons’ terrifyingly freaky villainess of the cloth.

While McConaughey does his part, there’s just not enough treasure here in Gold to dig.