Chris Evangelista

Perhaps Don’t Breathe 2 would work better for people who haven’t seen the first movie at all – they wouldn’t be lost, and they wouldn’t be witnessing the total character shift from unstoppable killer to flawed savior.

For all of Old‘s flaws – and those flaws are bounteous! – it’s a film with energy; a film with life. Shyamalan doesn’t appear to have a firm grasp on this material, but again, he’s trying! He’s trying to give us something different. And these days, that’s the sort of thing we should all be longing for.

Fear Street Part 3 is an absolute blast. But there’s tragic darkness prevailing here, as there has been through the previous entries. Yes, we’re having a good time with all this horror, but we’re also affected by the senseless death and dismemberment. There is no reveling in the spilling of blood here. There’s just a unique feeling of loss; the sense of cosmic injustice at young lives being cruelly snuffed out by thoughtless, uncaring hands. It’s oddly beautiful in a devastating way.

Pig is not the movie you think it is. It’s something far more beautiful, and far more painful. It is an existential meditation on the search for something. Anything. A kind of cosmic loneliness envelopes this film. It’s extraordinary.

Fear Street Part 2 also thrives once it really gets going. There’s a certain rough patch at the start that the film thankfully shrugs off, eventually sucking us into its night-dark story of doomed youth. A potential – and potentially questionable – romance that blooms between Ziggy and Nick Goode (Ted Sutherland), the boy destined to grow up and be sheriff, is charming in its clumsiness. A side character like punk rocker counselor Alice (Ryan Simpkins) seems annoying at first, only to blossom into someone we’re actively rooting for. After two films, the real strength of Fear Street is in its characters, not its scares. No one is expendable meat here – but that doesn’t mean they won’t get ground up in the end.

It’s easy to enjoy the film’s light, airy charms, but once it’s over, you’re left feeling a little empty.

The Forever Purge is at its best when it’s attempting to subvert the standard formula.

Fear Street is like a big soup pot full of everything – there are shades of Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Stephen King’s It, Halloween, Friday the 13th, and more. Watching Fear Street brings back memories of wandering around musty video stores and browsing the HORROR section for the most lurid VHS box art you can find. There was something sacred about that experience, like going to church.

There’s nothing wrong with silly, even mindless action movies. There exists a whole slew of ’em that are an absolute blast to watch. But they get by on their entertainment value. There’s nothing entertaining about Infinite. It just sits there, lifeless, hoping to become a full-blown franchise with sequels galore.

I can’t remember the last time a film shook me like this.

After this solid set-up, The Devil Made Me Do It occasionally grows a bit murky.

The Woman in the Window is so silly and broad that it begins to border on camp, and I have a feeling this could become the type of cheesy dreck that people get a hoot out of if they follow Anna’s lead and down one or two or ten bottles of wine. By the time the film climaxes with multiple predictable but utterly preposterous twists, you’ll probably be reaching for a bottle yourself.

Spiral blunders through its central mystery without grace or style, or even much thought. Even the death traps are weirdly uninspired.

Were it just slightly more entertaining we might have something special on our hands. As it is, we have a sturdy, mercifully swift action pic that fizzles out instead of burning bright. It’s nice to have a movie as simple as this for a change, but it would be nicer if it were better.

There’s a certain fun to be had in Army of the Dead, but it’s the mindless, ugly fun that you wake up the next day regretting. Come to think of it, it’s kind of like a trip to Las Vegas.

And to cap it all off, Mortal Kombat commits the sin that so many recent Hollywood adaptations of existing properties make these days – it’s all set up. Everything that happens here can be written off as exposition laying the groundwork for a sequel, where the real kombat can begin. It’s a ruse; a come-on; a side-show with a very loud barker out front. “We can’t show you that stuff just yet, but come back next time and we might!” The thing is, we’re all suckers enough to probably fall for it.

Whenever The Unholy wants to scare you, it simply enters internet screamer territory, complete with ghoul faces rushing directly into the camera as loud noises boom from somewhere. Outside of these admittedly startling moments, The Unholy unfolds sedately, and sometimes incoherently.

Godzilla vs. Kong is a film without pretensions. It knows exactly what it wants to do, and what it wants to do is have monsters smash buildings while they’re throwing punches at each other. It’s finally what this franchise has been building towards: a movie about monsters, not humans.

Nobody seems to think that if it follows a paint-by-numbers Wick formula, that’ll be enough. It’s not, and that’s a damn shame, because Bob Odenkirk: Action Hero deserves better.

In fact, “very dumb and very enchanting” could sum up Zack Snyder’s Justice League as a whole. There was never a single moment where I bought the story Snyder was selling, but I did enjoy his attempt to create a superhero movie that rises above the din.

This is a major misfire that will have you scratching your head and wondering how it all came to be.

There’s a lot to love here; searing heretic cinematography included, as long as you’re a fan of horror flicks that *love* taking their damn time. It’s emotionally invasive, disturbing, and brutally unforgiving once Sator’s presence takes hold.

The comedy on display here is so forced and without charm that it made me wish Beckwith and company had abandoned any attempt at humor and instead tried to make Together Together more of a straightforward drama with occasionally funny moments. That’s the better version of this film, and you can see it trying to claw its way out from beneath all the quirks.

Wild Indian is a singular achievement; a film so raw and centered that it dares you to look away from scenes that simmer and burn. It’s too early in 2021 to jump the gun and start calling out “best of the year” material, but Wild Indian certainly deserves to enter the conversation. It’s a film you won’t soon forget.

There’s are undeniably great moments in Judas and the Black Messiah, but one can’t help but think the movie needed to push itself just a little bit further. But perhaps the raw power radiating off the screen via the performances is enough.

The dreamy images and the simmering passions of the film lingered with me.

Tearful confessions and big dramatic beats fail when contrasted with the emotions that swell up from the unblemished beauty of the landscape. It ultimately left me cold and feeling as if Land‘s central drama was unable to compete with nature.

The final 20 or so minutes of In the Earth are downright impenetrable, and while that’s no doubt the point, it doesn’t make the experience any less frustrating. In a sense, Wheatley has successfully recreated the experience of stumbling around, lost in the woods, unable to see the forest for the trees.