Chris Evangelista

It's Lifestyles of the Rich and Clueless in Ridley Scott's House of Gucci, an odd duck of a film that wants to serve you both a scrumptious gourmet meal and greasy fast food in the same bite.

I don't want to get too hyperbolic here, but watching "Licorice Pizza" reminded me why I love movies so much; particularly the way they can drop us into another place and another time, and embed us completely into the lives of total strangers. If Licorice Pizza had stretched on for another hour, I would've been perfectly content to go along.

The way the filmmakers use their underwater setting is brilliant, and while there's not a whole lot of story here, they make every moment count.

While Red Notice may not be unwatchable, by the time the film ends with a deliberate sequel set-up, I was so turned off by the mercenary nature of it all that I was left with a bad taste in my mouth.

Hanks carries the entire film on his back, and this is yet another great bit of work from the actor.

Sometimes you want to sink your teeth into a gourmet meal, and sometimes you want junk food. Stylish, entertaining junk food. And that's what this is. So dig in.

while the action cranks up in the final half-hour, it's shot in such an incoherent manner that it renders the entire endeavor rather impotent. And by the time the film's confusing finale arrives, we're left with only one real question: "That's it?"

Young does her best to carry this all on her shoulders, and while she nails her early scenes playing up Margaret's instability, she eventually gets lost among all the scenery and abundant production design. Never quite as surreal as it needs to be, The Blazing World is an exercise in dream logic that stumbles over itself again and again.

As a sensory experience, Knocking is stunning. The heightened sounds mixed with a stuffy, collapsing ambiance create an unforgettable experience. Pity that the narrative in the midst of all of this fails to match that power. 

There are countless superhero movies better than this. Better written, better directed, better acted, better made. And yet, Let There Be Carnage has a weird, quirky heart, and sometimes, that's exactly what you need to see.

The Many Saints of Newark is smart enough to point out that Livia isn't an anomaly in this world — she's just another borderline-sociopath who has found her place among murderous men.

The cast is dynamite across the board. The way they converse with each other feels wholly natural, as if they've been talking for years.

Spencer will break your heart, but it will bring it warmth, too.

As social commentary, it's weak. As a comedy, it's unfunny. As a horror movie, it's not very scary.

The genius of Sundown is how little it tells us while keeping us glued to what we're seeing.

The Rescue is an edge-of-your-seat experience. Vasarhelyi and Chin shoot this thing like a thriller, combining both actual footage shot during the rescue with recreations featuring the actual divers, blending all this footage together seamlessly to create a wholly cinematic experience.

I'm sure Lakewood had its heart in the right place, and Watts, gosh love her, is really trying, since she's pretty much the only person on screen for most of the movie. But every step Amy takes towards the school is another misstep the movie makes, and by the time she gets to her destination, we've already mentally checked out.

The Forgiven runs the risk of becoming a thoughtless movie about a vile white man who is taught a lesson by wise brown people, but McDonagh, who also wrote the script, manages to (mostly) avoid that with a subtle touch.

In the end, Copshop is aggressively okay, and that'll probably be more than enough for most viewers. 

The Electrical Life of Louis Wain is often quite charming and sweet. But there's an undercurrent of sadness running through the entire affair, and even when the film tries to convince us that there were good times among the bad, it's hard not to think how awful life must have been for several characters here.

It's a handsomely-made film with a game cast, and it's clear that it's a very special project for Branagh. But the filmmaker is unable to convey to us, his audience, why it's so special.

Chastain gets some huge, showstopping moments – her final scene is genuinely terrific, and another scene that recreates Tammy Faye's on-air conversation with gay minister and AIDS activist Steve Pieters is effective and tender – but it would've been nicer if the movie itself was more worthy of her considerable talents.

A foreboding tone blankets "The Power of the Dog," putting us on edge nearly from the jump. Even when mundane, harmless things are happening, the tension mounts. The harmless seems harmful. Silence speaks volumes. This is a subtle movie that manages to knock us flat. 

As a showcase for Gyllenhaal's talents, The Guilty is passable, but that's just not enough.

The lack of true scares may be a deal-breaker for some. And indeed, the overall outlandishness at work on the screen is going to flat-out annoy certain viewers. But then there will be those who revel in the audacity of Malignant, and boy oh boy are those folks in for a treat. This isn't even close to being James Wan's best horror movie, but cripes, it sure is a lot of fun. 

There are moments of dread and tension, and as the narrative wears on it goes to some commendably weird places. But by then it's too little too late, and the movie ends with us wishing that the characters really had done something — anything, really.

The element that keeps The Card Counter truly alive is Isaac, who turns in one of the best performances of his career here, using his eyes to convey things dialogue never could. To watch him work here is something special, even if the movie as a whole can't ever quite match his intensity. 

A dark, ominous undercurrent runs through "Candyman," signaling Nia DaCosta as a filmmaker with a firm, unique grasp on the genre. The original "Candyman" already had a few sequels, but none of them are as clever, as interesting, as effective as this. Go ahead. Dare to say his name five times in the mirror. "Candyman" will live on.