J. Kim Murphy

That this highly derivative horror series bottoms out by over-investing in the Warrens — its most reliable creation, the only one that’s undeniably its own — is a sure sign that it is well past its utility.

The feature is awkwardly compressed in its portrait of heartache and easily overwhelmed by the political portent of its subject.

William Tell is most confident when Bang is allowed to commit to pulpy bravado, with long bellows of “No!” and “Go!” and an impressive 6’4’’ frame. He’s the tallest man in all the Alps; in a movie as silly and simple-minded as this one, of course that makes him the hero.

As a standalone, Incoming hits its marks, but its cast amounts to a collection of tics, while its appetite for raunch seems unfulfilled.

Despite the film’s confident naturalism, it seems less intimate as it goes on, with Max somehow growing more distant and generic as he becomes more comfortable in his own skin.

When it comes time to move the story along, Lorenz often betrays his filmmaking’s lax virtues.

Clemons’ strong performance provides enough of a center to propel the story to its conclusion.

A climactic tilt into a fight for survival remains sharply rendered by Abrantes, but it unfolds towards a forecast destination. The film’s evocative edge is gone.

The director’s most rewarding decision: simply trusting McShane to summon the mood.

The genre slant promised by the title seems to be less of a tonal responsibility than an excuse to abruptly break out into the occasional suspense set piece.

It’s a crime film that finds little joy in criminality, crammed with characters who’ve been backed into a corner, hindered by an overarching morality that doesn’t match the material.