John Fink

Despite fine performances and a riveting premise—prisoners finding meaning in caring for their elders, even a violent white supremacist—Frank & Louis falters by putting its characters in predictable, nuanceless boxes.

The mood created by Basir, who also photographed To Live and Die and Live, is far more interesting than any over-the-top, formulaic family drama the film boxes itself into.

Inspired by objectification, By Design, by design, tests the patience of viewers via Kramer’s precise direction and controlled mise-en-scène, designed by Grace Surnow and photographed by Patrick Meade Jones––unfortunately, the challenge never feels rewarding. Perhaps that’s the point: aspirational luxury sells the sizzle, not the steak.

Zhu brings a great deal of sympathy to her performance, yet her directorial debut somehow feels a bit hollow, disconnected by design.

There are clearly-defined targets, to be sure, but Babysitter struggles to make the point that perhaps we’re all human. It’s somewhat cringe-inducing by design, but the satire and humor feel dated.

Fresh Kills gets much of the atmosphere and tone right, and at its best is an evocative character study of mob wives and daughters; A’zion lends a particularly fascinating performance as a tough-willed woman ready to stand her ground and look out for “her people.”

This isn’t quite a nuanced study in violence, despite its title. Shot in northern rural Ontario, Canada in a generic backwoods called White Pines, the film ultimately feels hollow despite the deliberate cinematography by Pierce Derks.

In trying to capture the current state of the exhibition industry, there’s simply too much left unsaid, either for legal reasons or editorial choices.

While the romantic comedy and set-bound gags work, the hunt for Ryder––and the cartoonishly inept gangsters and drug dealers that populate his underworld––compel less.

The result, written by Julia Lederer (from her play) and directed by Kim Albright, is a film loaded with metaphors and similes where fragile hearts are made of paper and nothing is left to chance.

Caught between a horror action flick that delivers gallons of splatter and a well-cast high-concept comedy, both seemed pushed aside for mediocre thrills and a few chuckles.

There is something occasionally fun in watching a film with questionable choices bookended by over-the-top musical numbers. It’s not hard to imagine a spirited programmer getting a crowd excited for it at some point in the future.

House Party is fun enough but feels like a missed opportunity.

Pretty Problems explores several interesting themes but never quite knows what to make of Jack and Lindsay, their new friends, or the help that enables them. It feels conceived from within its own bubble, where money can in fact buy you almost anything you want except for a sense of fulfillment if you don’t know exactly what’s desired.

The inescapable problem at the core of any omnibus or anthology film with multiple cooks in the kitchen is, by all design, things will be uneven. Yet V/H/S/99 is fun enough in the context of TIFF’s Midnight Madness—including standouts from the usually gross and reliable Flying Lotus and Johannes Roberts, whose film is genuinely terrifying before turning a bit silly in its final moments.

Perhaps The Black Phone should have pushed its premise a bit more, building real stakes and real thrills in a deeper analysis of its archetypes. If performances by Thames, McGraw, and Hawke are strong, there could stand to be a few more twists and a bit more character development to transcend what is a middle-of-the-road psychological thriller.

What initially starts as a light-hearted look at YouTube star David Dobrik and his “Vlog Squad” evolves into a portrait that doesn’t quite know what to make of him and his enablers.

The film’s final revelations are underdeveloped and underwhelming, wrapping up events neatly in a way that lacked the humor of earlier scenes.

Having two terrific stars front and center isn’t nearly enough when they’re only given permission to run wild in this small of a playground.

It’s frustrating when a film provides us with an original character and an engaging first act while following so predictably in the shoes of other home invasion and defense thrillers.

A film such as this lives and dies by its leads, and both are wonderful on-screen together, creating a realistic love story that works well as they navigate the situation they both find themselves in.

The film problematically never quite commits to being one thing: bouncing around the investigation, being work of advocacy, and a study of family violence. In doing so, it lacks the kind of emotional impact and outrage it ought to have.

Alone Together has something rather profound to say, it’s just a shame that it never does so in a truly coherent way.

While the film never quite elevates itself to a harmonious balance of camp and art house, The Empty Man doesn’t lack ambition.

It’s a repulsive punk rock work that falls short of achieving what it sets out to do, finding itself parodying work that’s already a parody of itself.

Instead of sinking in, I found myself yearning for the classics it has either been influenced by or is borrowing heavily from. If this were a more academic exercise it should have come with an extensive works cited page.

The film, although likable in passages, keeps the problems it explores local, with a narrow focus rather than creating a national call to action.

Despite a few laughs, it’s a film that panders to a general audience with the funky musical score of a blaxploitation flick but none of the heart, spirit, or outrage.

Nothing Stays The Same is an important piece of Austin history with great performances but it feels as though director John Sandmann respectfully stuck to too narrow a mandate.

Upon a first glance, the film is somewhat hollow an experience, offering trite dialogue and an on-the-nose message about beauty and the horrors of genetic engineering taken to their extreme.

The supernatural element with low-rent visual effects derails an interesting enough concept where the rules don’t matter. Finding a creepy, mysterious porn film is weird by itself, and while it need not be grounded in realism like 8mm or Hardcore, Porno doesn’t have to throw away the rule book to be fun and scary.

Despite some endearing passages, Gene Stupnitsky’s uninspired crude tween comedy Good Boys is a cringe-inducing affair.

Isn’t It Romantic misses several opportunities to find humor in its absurdity with low stakes, too little of a comic payoff, and only a few cursory observations about gender roles and norms in these universes.

Students of the genre will know what’s coming and if you’re craving a few thrills, you can do far worse.

Despite overstaying its welcome through one absurd action sequence after another, it knows exactly what it is: an action movie your uncle would have liked after receiving on VHS from Columbia House. It’s just skillful enough to keep one engaged as we witness otherwise dull archetypes escape one tense situation after another.

Foster and Fanning are predictably great together, cut from the same bayou cloth, both doing what they must to get by, but the script gives them too little to work from. Instead, there’s only enough material for a few touching, if not heavy-handed moments along the way.

Fronted by a fine performance by Matt Smith, Mapplethorpe plays it safe with a subject that’s anything but.

In the end, The Legacy of the Whitetail Deer Hunter feels as innocuous and funny as some of the higher-tier films from Adam Sandler’s Happy Madison production studio. It misses the mark on subversion, but it at least offers a few chuckles along the way.

Ambitious and deeply flawed, Acrimony may appeal to hardcore fans of The Room–it’s not every day a melodrama comes along that’s this fun precisely because it never takes itself seriously.

Fast Color, like A Wrinkle in Time, provides an empowering message without much to latch on to. Hart, who impressed with her debut drama Miss Stevens, offers a banal, tired narrative, despite strong performances and occasionally beautiful visuals.

Occasionally entertaining and cringe-inducing, it’s largely more of the same: a retread of previous Jigsaw/Saw outings that sets the series up for new revenue opportunities without slaying larger dragons.

Mainstream summer comedies are not off to a terribly ambitious start this year and The House is one of the low points thus far.

Well-directed and fun, if not a bit too long and perhaps concerned with a plot that’s not nearly as engaging as its leads, Vampire Academy is a little smarter than your average teen adventure, but it’s certainly not Heathers or Mean Girls.

This is a dull, illogical, yet sincere and well-meaning drama.

The film is restrained — this is not a reality TV hit job — but the problem is that it glosses over many interesting parts of Anderson’s life while he goes on a type of soul-searching tour. It is as if the film was not part of the soul-searching, but more or less an ancillary annoyance for him.

Despite the intimate, conversational style, A Private Portrait feels a bit cold and calculated, with a focus on celebrity versus art.

The Boss Baby is a run-of-the-mill offering from DreamWorks who have prioritized frantic action and one-liners over the rich complexity of its competition.

The film itself seems to have blossomed organically while unfortunately never quite finding its motivation.

Shepard’s screenplay only feels a few drafts away from something that might have worked.

Beat by beat, though, Lauler (played by the stellar Shirley MacLaine) “evolves” in Mark Pellington’s predictable dramedy The Last Word. Cinematic comfort food comes to mind, and rest assured, mom and grandma will probably have a nice time.

I admire the film’s ability to commit to a rather simple idea, but that idea seems to lack the gravity and impact it ought to.

XX plays with and pushes back against certain tropes at its very best, yet never truly breaks much new ground.

With its predicable beats, one wishes this drama doubled down on the alarming effects of eating disorders. The film doesn’t make light of them, but it also doesn’t shed much new light on the process of recovery.

Sleepless isn’t intellectually offensive or even all that embarrassing for the talent involved. Beat by beat, right down to its twists, it’s a predictable January thriller.

Patriots Day may, in fact, embrace the spirit of the days following the bombing, but the scattered framing leaves one wanting more.

Rehashing some of the best and most memorable moments of Terry Zwigoff’s 2003 comedy, Bad Santa 2 is dirtier but certainly not funnier and it ultimately gives us less of a reason to care.

The success of the film is in its performances, from Gabrielle Union’s sincere and quick-witted Rachel to Mo’Nique’s spirited performance as Aunt May, a cosmopolitan women who is has lived quite a life.

Do Not Resist attempts to present a fair inquiry of police’s use of force. The issue itself is fraught with conflict and, unfortunately, the interest of immediacy of the conversation seems to trump thorough journalism.

A patriotic war drama for its domestic audience, Operation Chromite looks and feels like a blockbuster, offering an occasionally compelling look at the tactics employed and their effect.

Despite being energetic even if it wears out its welcome and fascinating even as it frustrates, it never quite commits to a tone in true punk rock spirit.

The jokes simply don’t land as hard as they should, even though the cast has a genuinely interesting shorthand with each other.

While not terribly insightful, passages are undeniable electric as Robbins captivates an audience that has plunked down a lot of cash to see him.

Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates is a funny-enough summer comedy that never quite breaks free from the countless raunchy iterations that have come before it.

Unfortunately Nerdland doesn’t offer many surprises.

Narrative risks aside, Outlaws and Angels takes the easy way out instead of allowing these moments the breathing room they need.

The grand takeaway from Puerto Ricans in Paris, which delivers what you’d expect and not much else, is that someone ought to finally give Luis Guzmán the leading role of a lifetime. The film, however, is tolerable on cable or free TV.

If anything, it’s familiar and authentic while being completely on-the-nose, with certain passages of dialogue that should have been internalized over the course of a few drafts. Derivative of much better mob and boxing movies, it’s not bad, but one can argue the former might be worse.

Neatly wrapping it all up in a bow, right down to big reveals and reconciliations, The Perfect Match offers not nearly enough twists on a tired formula.

I admire the tenacity and fearlessness of Wood to take on these issues head-on. In a playground of stripped-down indies of rough edges, encouraging sparse narratives, understatement and minimalism, Elizabeth Wood has made a film that feels fresh even if it offers little introspection and commentary on the fire that it plays with. And thus is the flaw of White Girl.

The material is simply too thin to support a 106-minute-long version of this story without veering into boredom as the path to the confession is a tediously predictable one.

Yoga Hosers isn’t a bad time at the movies, but it’s painful when the gags fall flat.