Lena Wilson

The downside is that Lagos is a more interesting character in this film than Lady herself, who Nwosu outlines with far less finesse. Such a glaring imbalance is symptomatic of the script’s overall flimsiness, which stands in contrast to this debut’s heartfelt performances and staggering visuals.

Brides has good bones — an interesting premise and a clearly capable director — but it’s unclear what it ultimately wants to say.

Though the aesthetics are consistently on point – great camerawork, suspenseful use of shadows and light – its characters and plot lack coherence. Tension builds promisingly in the first half, but by the climax, muddled action and shallow character motivation sap the suspense, and any opportunity for commentary is wasted

Please Don’t Feed the Children has a few things going for it – namely capable lead performers Michelle Dockery and Zoe Colletti – but Destry Allyn Spielberg’s boring, predictable first feature definitely doesn’t feel like it comes from a descendant of filmmaking royalty.

Despite a passionate performance from Colby Minifie and some compelling visuals, The Surrender sidelines its deft exploration of grief for drawn-out, pointless supernatural horror.

Despite its ferocious source material and lead Amy Adams, Nightbitch is a bloodless tale of maternal doldrums with little payoff.

Though it features delightfully weird visuals and a stellar turn by Kathryn Hunter, The Front Room can’t find its identity, both on-screen and in its own marketing.

Seeking Mavis Beacon quickly becomes less about what this software and its spokeswoman represent, more about what Jones and Ross are thinking or doing at any given time––even if it distracts from the film’s mission.

Its scrappiness is what brings the charm à la the early work of Madeleine Olnek. Random attempts at depth detract from the final product rather than add to it.

The patients, experts, and tireless doctors and activists who director Tracy Droz Tragos (“Rich Hill,” “Abortion: Stories Women Tell”) interviews are dedicated and admirable, but this documentary’s humanity comes at the expense of basic facts.

This high-concept horror too easily crosses over from charmingly erratic to nonsensical.

Why Magic Mike’s Last Dance chooses to teach viewers about love, consent, and having it all, then, is a mystery. The Galentine’s Day crowd will probably be too drunk to notice.

Body Parts has a lot to say about onscreen objectification, but it would benefit greatly if — like Quentin Tarantino’s camera on a young woman’s feet — it maintained its focus.

Where Anderson went to great lengths to address some salient topics in his novel — like colonialism, the American healthcare system, and the obsolescence of the working class — Finley’s “Landscape” lacks the worldbuilding necessary to make any such strong connections. This could be a scathing indictment of our country’s growing class divide. Instead, it’s a nice-looking, entertaining movie that conveniently pulls its punches.

It’s undeniably impressive that such a tiny movie has garnered such a reputation. Ball has made an interesting attempt here, and it will be exciting to see what he does with a little more money and, hopefully, restraint. In the meantime, unless you want to tirelessly search “Skinamarink” for creepiness in all this filmmaking fog, you’re likely to find there’s very little there there.

Plane would be less mind-numbing if it took itself either a little less or a lot more seriously.

The lack of stakes in this film come from its quirky style and shoddy writing. It’s perfectly possible for well-written film to be silly, but the levity in Four Samosas fizzles into nothing.

Crowe’s acting is fine, but he hasn’t done himself any favors with his by-the-book direction or paltry script.

Please Baby Please may pay homage to queer aesthetics, but it fails to make any coherent points about gender or sexuality.

It’s not that “Bodies Bodies Bodies” is bad. It’s visually appealing and nicely acted. But this film is not special, and like its shallow characters, it is persistently unaware of its own inanity.

As satires go, this one by the writer and director Quinn Shephard is hardly subtle — but though it lacks narrative finesse, Not Okay is brimming with provocative in-jokes for the extremely online.

Like a poorly-researched presentation glued to the finest poster board and surrounded by glitter and shiny stickers, My Old School is easy enough on the eyes, but it’s hardly done the work necessary to earn top marks.

This is not your mother’s Disney Channel, and thank god. All of the “Zombies” movies are brimming with camp delights, as though the crew watched “But I’m a Cheerleader” while dropping acid. This is particularly true for Zombies 3.

This script’s greatest sin is its steadfast predictability.

Unfortunately, the script is too disjointed to keep its own complex characters afloat. Little is revealed as the plot bounces from one climax to another, making any eventual bloodshed feel exhausting and unearned.

Operation Mincemeat is overall light on remorse and far more interested in intrigue, both political and romantic.

If you’re not well-versed in bioengineering or food regulation, it’s a bit of a slog.

While the result is a mostly-compelling tale of matriarchal megalomania, occasionally this group composition feels more like a jumble.

The Last Thing Mary Saw is as surprising as it is frustrating.

It’s a bizarre movie, but there’s enough action to help you zip through this overstuffed story even if you’re not sure why you (or Georgia, or Sam) are there in the first place.

It is bizarre and dizzying and oddly beautiful in its fervor, as fantastical props and effects distract from the nonsensical plot. But this script also clumsily insists that its protagonist, a woman named Eva (Eugénie Derouand) who uses a wheelchair, is murderously obsessed with overcoming her disability.

Andy Greskoviak’s script lampoons corporate apathy and retail-work ennui with the same swiftness as his voracious zombies. Unfortunately, Black Friday also tries to make viewers root for its characters, who are mostly delightful because they are such wildly mediocre people.

Though there are a few standout creations, the anthology is mostly muddled, privileging a heightened version of 2020 over a reality that was plenty scary on its own.

The twists in Hypnotic may not be brilliant, but they are abundant, making for the sort of straight-to-streaming treat best enjoyed on a couch, with company who will laugh with you and let you yell at the screen.

The Trip is occasionally fun, but other films have handled gleeful gore and psychological torture with a far more skillful touch.

Despite some flat cinematography and borderline goofy special effects, The Manor gives us a distinctive 70-year-old woman as its protagonist and a twisty ending sure to polarize.

A subdued score and some by-the-book camerawork can make this urgent story drag, but what it lacks in sting it makes up for with an original script (by Marcella Ochoa and Mario Miscione) and a ferociously pregnant protagonist who would make the “Fargo” character Marge Gunderson proud.

Where it could lean into the typically bone-dry Addams family humor, this film more often relies on poop jokes, explosions and the musical talents of Snoop Dogg. It’s sure to entertain little ones, but parents may find themselves itching for something more impish.

Though it centers on one woman, anything we might stand to learn about her own developing values is quickly swallowed by overcomplicated narratives about secondary characters, corrupt colonizers and family secrets.

This well-choreographed hunt is chilling, sure — particularly because of de Wolf’s terrifying performance and unconventional choice of weapon — but it’s also a little bit fun.

Werewolves Within darts between sharp visual gags, intricately choreographed scenes and a few standout performances, but its climax lands with a thud.

Seance meanders for most of its running time, wavering between tones and styles. It’s both self-aware and overly serious. It tries to be a murder mystery, a slasher, a coming-of-age tale and a haunted house flick all at once.

For all the empathy it expects of its viewers — every character cries onscreen at least once — the film is troublingly removed from human reality.

The Invisible Man is inarguably well done, and this is one of Elisabeth Moss’s best performances, but this is the kind of subject matter you can’t short-shrift. This is life-altering, traumatizing stuff, but in privileging horror shocks over emotional reality, this film unmasks itself. It’s not as interested in abuse victims as it is cheap thrills.

Much like “It: Chapter Two,” Doctor Sleep is an odd generic blend. Part horror, part fantasy, part “The Shining” Oscars tribute, it engenders confusion more often than delight.

Despite its flaws, it goes down easy and guiltlessly, like cheap champagne.

If the performances were as wooden as the plot, “Imaginary Order” would be unwatchable ... Instead, McLendon-Covey’s lead turn and some savvy supporting performances (most notably Kate Alberts as her daughter) keep things compelling for the film’s overstretched 100-minute run time.

Maybe if the film had dwelled on its more off-color scenes instead of falling back on typical comedy fodder, it would be truly magnetic. Unfortunately, it’s more like a sloppy friend who, despite starting the night off full of joie de vivre, you now have to help stumble home.

It’s beautiful, if not brilliant, and (aside from a final act that drags on way too long) fun to watch. In the alternate universe where I don’t care about misogyny and I decided to watch this movie on mute, it’s probably one of the best things I’ve seen all year.

First Match is a culturally significant, capably-crafted film, but it leans on safe familiarities when it should seek risky rewards.