Gregory Nussen

Ultimately, Over Your Dead Body is too messy for its own good. It is unable to settle into any one choice. The repeated motif of flashbacks and plot twists is fun, but not always useful in keeping the ball up.

Candy-colored and ebullient, I Want Your Sex is not a bad film, but its hard to think of it positively when we know just how much more effective Araki has been behind the camera. The film is just never sure of what it is.

The film boasts a twee quirkiness in style, but in its narrative, that promise never really comes to fruition. It is, in other words, a much more normal affair than what is promised. In spite of many genuine laughs, that just translates into a disappointing experience.

Its approach is so diffuse that its uncertain and purposefully ambiguous ending is misguided at best.

Even when removed from the implications of his prolific career, there isn't a ton here that gives us an unbridled look into the man's inner life.

Thompson and Greer really are extraordinary, however, and their tête-à-tête nearly saves Kirk's enterprise from the doldrums.

Despite a series of beautiful gowns worn by Chastain, the film doesn't offer much intrigue nor sociopolitical interest, instead reducing itself to the lowest common denominator by the time it reaches its exceedingly cruel ending.

The process of searching through all manner of cloud-based applications and information in a video-game-like manner is a tantalizing prospect, one just wishes it wasn't done for something so harebrained.

No disrespect to Foy, who showed with The Crown just how capable she is of revealing entire histories through her open visage, but watching her go through the extremely repetitious (and, one supposes, accurate) steps of training a Eurasian Goshawk is exceptionally tiresome. H is for Hawk induces the same effect as taking a sedative.

The Gallerist is a tepid satire. Even calling it such feels generous, as the film is almost entirely devoid of genuine humor.

Even more than its two predecessors, the film relies on being condescension to sell its so-called magic.

This is classic B-movie creature-feature stuff.

At its best, Mr. K is like being immersed in Hieronymous Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights. More often, however, it's like living inside a trash heap.

Younger children will delight in the film's atmospheric wonder, but older children may be bored by the simple yet nonspecific comedy.

Lang really goes for it here, and he sells the material as best as he can, but suffice it to say that Hellfire is only as entertaining as your bandwidth for bog-standard action fare.

Comedically, the film also falters . . . Nor is there much that is distinctive about the animation style.

The circumstances around Audrey and Eli's union (Moon Choi and Son Suk-ku, respectively) is tender, yet forceful, beautiful, yet pained; but the film is otherwise formless, uninspiring and moves like molasses.

Ultimately, the film is far too placid and noncommittal to earn its more moving climax. It's hard to really care about these characters when their stream of decisions seems either improperly motivated or else frustratingly selfish.

What they cannot ignore is that the film is otherwise still lacking. For all the epithets one could throw out about Wuthering Heights, the most surprising may be that it is an abject snooze, and that its nonchalance about color-specific casting reveals a filmmaker completely insensitive to the implications of race in the late 18th century.

Anaconda aims to be Bowfinger for a new generation but ends up feeling as insipid as the film it is loosely based on. Its target audience is people nostalgic for the salad days of studio blockbusters, who are righteously frustrated with executives for cashing in on material they don't understand.

If Ready or Not was a chess match, Here I Come is tic-tac-toe.

A surprisingly bland film that somehow manages to dampen even Glen Powell's usual brand of effortless charm, How to Make a Killing is sketched together with thin characterizations, limp commentary and a sluggish pace.

The film's best attribute is the romance between Bruce and Faye. White and Young's chemistry is palpable, and Cooper solidly helps us understand why an artist on the verge of overwhelming fame might be interested in a working-class single mother, whose planted smile belies the pain of someone abandoned and bereft. There's a nuance here that the rest of the film sorely lacks and needs.

This Little Mermaid feels more or less like two-hour-plus cosplay with the texture and gravitas of a Disneyland sideshow.

Being as this is the first of a possibly three-part finale, Fast X’s sense of fun is constantly deflated by all the table-setting.

The film bangs the drum loudly on behalf of American exceptionalism.

The film isn’t interested in anything that would detract from providing audiences with the sustained pleasure of watching a clock-ticking thriller.

The film doesn’t have a clear opinion on its main subject and the scourge of misogyny in media.