Justin Clark

The horror here proves as much a dead end as the main characters’ relationship.

Jam-packed with his familiar brand of vulgar yet verbose stoner humor and free-flowing riffs on movies—especially his own—the vibes are certainly off the charts in Kevin Smith’s film.

By the time You’re Cordially Invited finds the correct mode to operate in, it’s about five minutes before the end credits roll.

There are versions of this premise relevant to a modern world, but the film’s point of view on the state of race relations feels stuck somewhere around 1954.

If you’re looking for flash and snark, Boy Kills World has them in spades, but it’s too punch-drunk on its own juvenile grandiosity to bother offering even a whiff of substance.

In grappling with the implications of its story, Folie à Deux’s every attempt at showcasing cleverness, verve, or engagement is held cruelly underwater by staid direction, shoddy emotional plotting, a gleeful sense of cruelty, and a grave nihilism that makes Zack Snyder’s work seem like a season of Bluey.

Next Goal Wins feels like five different films, all of them failing to coalesce in an effective way because every 30 seconds the script thinks it has to crack wise.

The film is a mélange of tired normcore horror tropes indistinguishable from any film in the Conjuring universe.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson skulks and slays across a slew of gory insert shots that scream “reshoots” from the highest mountain, and while he certainly looks the part with his shirt off, there’s little here that Hugh Jackman hasn’t delivered multiple times over the years and with a deeper well of earned pathos to draw from.

Christophe Gans’s film does away with all the psychosexual nuance of Silent Hill 2.

Five Nights at Freddy’s has absolutely no idea what kind of ride it wants to be.

There's nothing behind its contemptible eyes, no spine to house the fading diode that once contained a soul.