Lena Wilson

Don’t Breathe 2 is plenty lively, full of violence and action, but a rancid narrative (and some seriously terrible dialogue) overpowers the script.

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.

Settlers purports to challenge violence against women and colonialism. Instead, the female protagonist wallows in powerlessness for most of the movie, and a boxy robot is ultimately presented as more sympathetic than a displaced brown man.

There is little here that was not already tackled in Rob Stewart’s 2007 documentary “Sharkwater,” nor in the more recent, less artful “Seaspiracy.” Though where Stewart painstakingly explained the beauty, intelligence and importance of sharks, Roth would rather that we love these animals simply because he does.

Given the cast’s three outstanding performances and slick camerawork by Nicolás Colledani, this makes for a fascinating capsule of family brutality.

Words like “colonialism” and “the American dream” are thrown around, to little avail. This movie ultimately cares more about monotonous shootouts than making points about border relations

This may be dark fodder for a family project, but the result is a visually striking meditation on obligation and complicity.

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

La Dosis harms itself by refusing lucidity. What should be a razor’s edge rivalry plays more like a hamstrung thriller.

“The Devil Made Me Do It” is an excellently spooky work of fiction. It would be even better if it privileged ghoulishness over gospel.

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.

The premise is disingenuous at best and, in a moment where scores of citizens are calling for widespread police reform, fearmongering at worst. Like Jigsaw offering one of his facile riddles, this film is not as clever as it thinks it is.

The premise is simple, but this twist-filled script by LeBlanc gives Laurent ample opportunity to shine. Because of its limited setting, the film hangs on Laurent’s acting ability, and she gamely vaults between elation, terror and determination.

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

Sims-Fewer and Mancinelli have given their subject matter the focus it deserves, distinguishing themselves as thoughtful, artistic and uncompromising in their shared vision. This female-centered story manages to be gutsy while resisting exploitation — a welcome and nuanced addition to a genre often hobbled by didacticism.

In the overstuffed indie coming-of-age subgenre, Sophie Jones makes an unassuming, honest contribution. Which is exactly what it needed to do to stand out among the endless pomp and quirk.

All in all, CRSHD is an ambitious film made with impressively few resources. Despite its writing pitfalls and shaggy aesthetic, this first feature shows off Cohn’s vision, wit, and resourcefulness.

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.

Sacca’s script is an exercise in poor plotting.

This is the cinematic equivalent of eating a macaron, a bourgeois treat best enjoyed for its prettiness rather than its substance. But much like a good macaron, a well-done period romance – interesting, well-paced, relatively pro-woman – is a deceptively hard thing to make. This is one exquisite petit four.

The problem is not that Cats makes no sense . . . nor that the performances are mediocre (most of them are quite good). The murder weapon is the galling CGI intended to cover the actors in head-to-toe feline fur. Instead, the animation detracts from the film’s capable performers and inventive surroundings, drawing the eye reluctantly in like the sight of a person vomiting in the middle of an amusement park. It makes for a slow death, so overwhelmingly grotesque that it ceases to be interesting at all.

Knives and Skin presents an unsettling mix of girlishness, macabre, sweetness, and despondency best encapsulated in a nail polish color sported by one of the characters: Rotting Corpse. Its humans are alien, its script is bizarre, its visuals are gauche. But this so-wrong-it’s-right feminine dirge puts the “fun” in “funereal.”

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.

Before You Know It packs a lot of character development into 98 minutes. By the film’s end, tears are shed (perhaps including yours, the audience member’s), jealousies uncorked, and secrets aired – but while each player has their disparate arc, they defy contrivance.

Either this movie was made due to one of the most humongous creative blind spots in all of filmmaking, or it was made because in this, the year 2019, there are still people who believe that eroticized, lightened-up rape scenes are not only permissable – they are empowering.

A noir-ish melodrama so oversaturated with dourness that it borders on parody.

Equal parts choppy and charming, “See You Yesterday” has trouble balancing quirk and melodrama.

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