John Fink

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

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

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

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.

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.

Unfortunately Nerdland doesn’t offer many surprises.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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