Lena Wilson

Honey Bunch is a work of art, but it won’t go down easily for everyone, and it’s sure to be divisive. Definitely watch it with a friend or loved one — whether you’re picking apart the plot holes or reveling in the reveal, you’ll need to debrief afterward.

“American Pachuo” is just a nice movie about a visionary guy. Entertaining and educational, to be sure, but so frictionless it barely sticks.

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.

Novocaine offers more depth than its gimmicky “man who feels no pain” premise may lead you to believe. This movie breathes new life into old ideas, with an original hero buoyed by the charm of Jack Quaid and a heroine who ably beats the damsel-in-distress allegations. Novocaine is smart, but not so self-aware that it’s likely to alienate anybody; sharp, but not without feeling.

Two Women is a titillating, vibrant send-up of societal expectations that goes down easy despite its brashness. (See: Violette’s farcical misinterpretation of the #MeToo hashtag.) It’s strongest when leaning hard into hedonism, but even a distracted narrative can’t bring this frothy flick down.

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

While it’s nice to see Toni Colette and Chris Messina face off both in and out of the courtroom and Zoey Deutch gives a strong dramatic performance as Ally, even the best acting can’t make Juror #2 make sense.

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.

Though Skincare’s script lacks bite or balance, Elizabeth Banks gives a riveting lead performance with assistance from Lewis Pullman as her sketchy sidekick.

Thanks to slick screenwriting, stylish art direction, and a sparkling lead performance from Blake Lively, It Ends with Us tackles difficult subject matter with maturity, tenderness, and just a dash of whimsy.

The Strangers: Chapter 1 might freak you out if you aren’t old enough to remember The Strangers, but where its predecessor was subtle and interesting, Renny Harlin’s reboot chooses to be ridiculous and boring.

Ito is undeniably brave, but this autobiographical doc could stand to be a bit less shiny.

It’s nice to see a first-time director unafraid to let his viewers have their own experiences and come to their own conclusions. Here’s one: the bravest thing about Little Death isn’t its risks––it’s the filmmakers’ choice to forgo nihilism for hope.

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.

Although the script could certainly use pruning, Suncoast balances intellect and emotion to deliver clever, memorable lines and a climax that will leave you weeping.

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.

Mamacruz is finely crafted, if not particularly challenging. This film clearly wants to wrestle with taboos, but that revolutionary spirit doesn’t go much further than the basic premise. With such important themes, this film deserves to be a bit more memorable than it ultimately is.

“Boston Strangler” may muddle its facts, but its message never wavers. In a genre dominated by perfunctory intrigue, how exhilarating to see a film with morals this clear, consistent, and touching.

Even when it drags — 169 minutes is a lot of time to fill, even for this masterful crew — the film gamely mixes comedy, action, and drama into one truly satisfying cocktail.

This is a sweeping, lived-in romance that is as resonant as it is precise.

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.

This is a staggering achievement, the sort of nonfiction project that takes unfathomable guts and skill.

It’s difficult to imagine anyone watching Life Upside Down out of anything other than abject desperation.

By showing the tangled relationship between a mother and her dysphoric child, L’Immensità writes a love letter to the lonely.

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.

What saves this wallflower of a drama is its focus on the women’s friendship, which Mosaku and Horn sell with aplomb.

It’s a powerful, well-assembled watch, but curious viewers may feel prompted to seek out more details than this film is willing to offer.

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.

A stellar script and two standout performances from Jillian Bell and the sensational Natalie Morales round out this sweet little flick which, despite its intergalactic ambitions, doesn’t stray far from a rental house in wine country.

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

The film is accessible, engrossing, urgent, and horrifying.

Baghdadi has harnessed something truly special. Like its fractious characters, Sirens is both humble and arresting, relatable and unique. It will stay with you long after the band has played their final chords.

The film focuses more on one character’s moral defects than the sketchy project overall, leading to a conclusion that feels unsatisfying at best and pompous at worst.

“First Kill” takes the best part of its predecessor — its camp value — and dials things up to 11, delivering a movie that demands to be seen at rowdy theaters and sleepovers worldwide.

In the documentary Free Chol Soo Lee, first-time doc directors Julie Ha and Eugene Yi use archival materials in an attempt to present their tragic hero in all three dimensions. Despite their efforts, Soo Lee feels just out of reach, but the story of his life remains as important as it is horrifying.

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.

Even when this film is a bit too neat, it’s still totally irresistible.

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.

That the filmmakers manage to address so much of such a complicated life in just over 90 minutes speaks highly to their effectiveness, vision and economy.

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.

The indisputable star here is Johnson. She balances Anne’s dissonant scorn and sweetness with aplomb, her usual soft-spoken, sarcastic shtick perfectly suiting the character. Even when forced to do truly regrettable things, like wink directly at the camera, she exudes charm.

This script’s greatest sin is its steadfast predictability.

The Princess somehow manages to be both under-written and insultingly obvious.

To set expectations, it’s best to think of My Fake Boyfriend as two movies. There’s the gay rom-com, focused on Andrew, that Pride month viewers have presumably tuned in for, and then there’s an almost “Black Mirror”-ish comedy, centered on Jake, about a meddling techie who gets caught up in his best friend’s life.

Those poor viewers willing to take on this Freudian tale and its dialogue rivaling “The Room” must brave a ludicrous slog for crumbs.

One of this century’s most arresting tales of female anxiety.

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.

Montana Story remains a worthwhile exercise, largely because it puts two stellar actors through a monumental emotional gauntlet, and they pass with flying colors.

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

Such a breezy, Instagram-friendly adaptation feels like a betrayal to Dessen’s original, neurotic protagonist, who has a more difficult journey from self-induced solitude to romance.

It is subversive, stomach-churning and visionary, a body-horror film that doubles as a fable of femininity gone wrong.

It plays as if the worst episodes of “Law and Order: Special Victims Unit” have all been processed in a blender and then stretched to nearly two hours long.

It’s particularly sad that viewers can’t spend more time in Casey’s world, since newcomer Cobb is this film’s greatest asset.

If you’d like to see the horror-action equivalent of an old metal rock musician lighting his electric guitar on fire and then playing it with his teeth, this is your movie.

It feels as though [Loznitsa] has wrangled an entire uprising’s personality into bite-sized pieces.

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

“Antichrist” may have been chauvinistic in its own right, but at least was interesting to watch. Barbarians doesn’t provide much excitement at all.

“Until the Wheels Fall Off” works better as a humanistic exploration than it does as a biography, making its Hawk focus occasionally feel like a weakness.

[A] soulless film.

Forget about hell, the emptiness these filmmakers must address lies primarily in their predominantly female cast of characters.

The filmmaking itself is sound. Liu is spellbinding, and her supporting cast of character actors are game for the script’s insanity.

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

You’re likely to leave this film starving for answers, but that hunger can be just as stimulating as it is burdensome.

This mawkish plot might be tolerable if its characters were more likable; instead, they are pretension personified.

Screenwriters Isaac Aptaker and Elizabeth Berger (“Love, Simon”) are no strangers to the subversive rom-com, and capable directing and editing by Jason Orley (“Big Time Adolescence”) and Jonathan Schwartz (“Stuber”), respectively, set leads Jenny Slate and Charlie Day up for maximum hilarity. The film ultimately feels a bit underdeveloped, but this seems a small price to pay for a romantic comedy with zero misogyny and relatively realistic characters.

Unfortunately, its lesbian representation is so shoddy that its scares also suffer.

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

This film more than proves its director and lead’s talents. Sure, it’s gut-wrenching, but film fans will also find it exhilarating. It is the artistic equivalent of watching a well-trained underdog vault the finish line at her first big race.

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.

There is a clear through line of faithlessness in the script by Reece and John Selvidge, but it is otherwise so aimless and underdeveloped as to turn this 93-minute film into a plodding slog.

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.

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.

A staggering accomplishment in its storytelling, visuals, and performance.

Save for an overdependence on neon lighting, a general misunderstanding of how entertainment journalism works, and perhaps more alcohol consumption than is responsible for a film sure to be watched by teen girls and young women, Someone Great is a heartfelt and hilarious first feature with ample female talent.

With a popular subject, and some downright corny visual devices, The Inventor doesn’t knock it out of the park as neatly as some of Gibney’s other works. Still, it’s a worthwhile and damn entertaining addition to the developing Elizabeth Holmes canon that makes up for its flaws with undeniable watchability.

These characters are undoubtedly supposed to be parodies of themselves, but their collective unrepentant narcissism broods more resentment than laughter. By the end of the feature, it’s hard not to cringe every time somebody talks.

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.

Song of Back and Neck is worth a watch—even if you’ll scratch your head more often than you’ll laugh.

When all’s said and done, Wobble Palace is trying so hard you can’t help but like it.

As surely as a hiker extending her arms in the middle of an undulating lava field, Iceland has arrived, with a startling movie that’s every bit as idiosyncratic, homely, and dynamic as its country of origin.

Unfortunately, while Set It Up sets up instances of subversion, it ultimately topples into a predictable mess of romantic noxiousness.

With capable performances and a smart, character-focused script, this film balances its formal conventions with narrative nerve, ultimately making for a satisfying – if not show-stopping – watch.

You might start this film expecting a riotous night with some of the most underrated women in comedy, but you’ll soon find yourself invested in a mesmerizing story of partnership and personal growth.

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.

While Our House occasionally loses sight of itself and could stand to take more risks, it offers a wholly original perspective on female friendship bolstered by precocious directorial acumen and a self-assured visuals.

This is one of the most thoughtful films about the female experience to debut in recent years, and should be mandatory viewing for anyone eager to engage with confidently-made, skillful art cinema.

Though the film attempts to introduce a future laden with fascinating social implications, it maddeningly ignores them in favor of an overwrought, plodding, and inherently sexist romance.

The cinematic equivalent of a bath bomb, this fizzy feature is sure to delight — at least until the charm fades. So unfurl your towel, dust off your bathing suit, and soak up that warmth.

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

It’s a well-made, gutsy film. So, if you can withstand the whole soul-crushing feature, you’ll probably be glad you stuck it out. If “glad” is an emotion you can still feel afterward.

Neither romantic nor comedic, When We First Met is almost too vapid to be aggravating. After watching it, you might be tempted to hunt down a time-traveling photo booth of your own so that you can undo your mistake. Luckily, this movie is so shallow you probably won’t even remember it after you wake up tomorrow

As a film, Saturday Church could so much more, and its disheartening shyness keeps it from achieving greatness. A few choir boys short of a hallelujah, Saturday Church feels more like a subdued sermon.

Simmons is naturally charming, but that only goes so far in a film strung together by half-baked characters and a gimmick.

The Tribes of Palos Verdes privileges melodrama over nuance, pitting skilled actors against a humdrum script and sketchy roles. It doesn’t offer anything new, and bungles any mildly interesting plot points.