Emma Kiely

To its credit, there are some decent gore scenes, and the practical makeup is done well, but not enough to distract from some pretty laughable special effects. Compared to the original and even the 2010 version that won the Oscar for Best Makeup, Whannell’s version isn’t breaking any new ground.

To see Clooney and Roberts team up again when they have demonstrated in the past (the Oceans movies and Money Monster) that they go together like rum and coke is a lot of fun, but it also makes it undeniably noticeable that they deserve better. I don't mean an Oscar-worthy dramatic biopic. But a rom-com with some nuance and wit.

While It Ends With Us and Regretting You contained at least some decent acting and production value, Reminders of Him is a grim dose of misery and trauma porn punctuated by a terrible lead performance and an undeniable conservative sheen.

Mothers' Instinct is an entertaining, well-acted drama that falters under the weight of its shocking ending.

A fun concept does not automatically mean a quality film, as the overly intense direction, hollow scares, and imbalance of tone make it a thrown-together mess.

The film tries to pack in so much subplot and religious context that it leaves no time to build up a scare properly. The only people who would actually be scared by this movie are about five years too young to legally see it.

Night Swim is a missed opportunity of epic proportions, and it’s yet another in a streak of Blumhouse projects failing to bring anything new to the horror genre.

For now, stick with the original.

The creatively (and morally) bankrupt and downright offensive biopic glosses over Amy Winehouse’s complicated, and ultimately, tragic life to shine a more flattering light on her father and ex-husband, distorting the real-life events in her life to tell its own narrative.

Hulu's Whitney Wolfe biopic never tries to break free from the predictable confines of the genre.

Come for Lohan, stay for Harding, and watch until the end for Kristin Chenoweth — all while ignoring some of the most robotic dialogue your ears ever heard.

Every actor probably knows that this script is pretty useless, but that doesn't stop any of them from putting their best foot forward. Including Lohan, they all look like they’re having a blast and that really comes through to the audience.

Bloat really doesn’t seem like a movie that knows what it wants to be.

Instead of burrowing into their differing ideas about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness and how they differ based on class and background, Anna and Jamie’s romance is based entirely on them exchanging progressively earnest platitudes, quotes taken from centuries-old poetry that the script dumbs down and shoehorns into every moment between the couple.

Tarot is a pretty forgettable horror movie. Dull characters, a basic plot, and very little to say with its themes render it a fairly unmemorable experience.

The central problem of Morbius is a lazy and uninspiring script. No weight or depth is given to any character. There’s little humor and when it tries to make a tongue-in-cheek joke, it fails miserably.

What was once considered revolutionary or sharp commentary is now so passé and outdated that it makes the film feel like an ancient relic — a bad one.

It all falls apart as there are no personal touches, character specificities, or horror sensibilities that fill in the many gaps of this hollow script.

Polished off by a vibrant cast, Annick Blanc’s feature debut is an impressive feat and a refreshing and minimal twist on the “eat the rich” trend in Hollywood.

It's trying to be a slasher movie so we ultimately have to judge it by those standards. And as a slasher, with its thin plot and flat killer, Haunt Season doesn't cut it.

Chain Reactions finds the beauty in the despair, and how fine cinematic storytelling isn’t confined to tales of good winning over evil. It’s a love letter to horror, art, influence, and how Tobe Hooper and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre changed cinema forever, whether you can stomach it or not.

With a lack of any undersea horror action, off-kilter characterization punctuated by poor acting, and a script that is taking itself way more seriously than it has any right to, there’s no enjoyment to be taken from this shameless attempt to capitalize on a lucrative IP.

Fréwaka may not achieve everything it sets out to, but it’s still a moving horror story packed with thought and intention — and a much-needed reminder of the lyrical beauty of the Irish language.

It does slightly fall off in its final act, becoming aimless and stretched, and ending around 30 minutes after it should. But its first two acts are deeply enthralling, and Vicky Krieps' lead performance is an Odyssean tour de force.