J. Kim Murphy

The movie devolves into something inexact and thoughtless, without anything distinct to recenter it. It’s hardly a sin for cruelty to be the point, especially in horror. But you have to at least land your punches.

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.

Speaking to viewers who are cognizant of what films can and cannot be made, Zodiac Killer Project is a biting statement on how many artists have been funneled into a creative dead-end by a trend-chasing market.

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.

McAvoy’s big grin full of knives quickly dissolves any semblance of social credibility. But the film matches Paddy’s boorishness and commits to being a comedy about a bad marriage crumbling under the fist of a freak-of-nature vacation host.

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

[Mountains] carries an undeniable veracity and compassion. Its narrative proves less insightful, however: too wary to crack into its protagonist’s troubled psyche, softening the film’s worthwhile political anxieties into sympathetic messaging that seems ho-hum and predetermined.

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.

Awkwardly enamored by the thin novelties of its sci-fi trappings, Brightwood doesn’t possess the imagination to blossom beyond them, occupying an unflattering intersection of modest production resources and unrefined form.

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.

The Human Surge 3 doesn’t have defined characters or even very coherent conversations, but its swirling of reality conjures an absorbing dreamscape.