Henry Stewart

The fourth film in the Insidious franchise, directed by Adam Robitel, is lazy and sometimes even loathsome.

As released, All the Money in the World is by and large a conspicuously manufactured thriller that moves between manipulative psych-outs.

The film advances that old Hollywood trope: Blacks can't get justice unless whites are willing to get it for them.

Once the film gets to the Orient Express, it's as if Kenneth Branagh is always itching to get off of it, even having Hercule Poirot at one point look over a list of names while standing atop the train for no discernible reason, except perhaps to enjoy the way the sun peeks out between two distant mountain peaks.

The outline of Miles Joris-Peyrafitte’s As You Are is certainly well-worn, but this coming-of-age film nonetheless stands out for its nuanced sense of detail and the sympathy it extends to its main characters.

The film's central theme, about where attention-starved narcissism leads when taken to extremes, isn't quite sufficient to sustain an entire feature.

Greg McLean and screenwriter Justin Monjo faithfully hit the key plot points of Yossi Ghinsberg's 1993 book Back from Tuichi but fail to sell the severity of the threats Yossi confronts.

The film gives Una a little more agency, but director Benedict Andrews often invalidates such empowerment.

The transformation of a teen into a serial killer isn't credible compared to the portrait of idle suburban adolescence.

It becomes the obnoxious equivalent of trying to have a serious conversation with people who are high out of their minds.

The film successfully argues that it’s through sensory details that we access the deeper aspects of our lives.

The filmmaker has a bad habit of dropping the psychological inquiries to dully go through the genre motions.

The film is at its strongest when navigating the story's uneasy relationship to its genre.

The film's storylines fail to inform or intensify each other in any theme-deepening or character-developing ways.

Split is personal and outlandish, with questionable themes, riveting plotting, somber storytelling, and elegant construction.

As it unfolds, Whatever Works assumes an increasing note of poignancy, becoming a quasi-optimistic story about securing whatever little love you can in this fakakta world.