Matt Donato

When it counts, The LEGO Batman Movie delivers everything you’d want from such a farcical superhero creation.

Categorizing Rings as "horror" would be a disservice to genre films, because at least the lowest of the low attempt a scare here or there.

As punishing as it is grotesquely poetic, Headshot is a healthy dose of breathtaking brutality that makes you hold on for dear life.

The Lure is powerful enough to cast an obsessive spell on anyone watching.

Sing runs on some serious super-piggy performance power, even if the emotional notes are expected.

The Space Between Us is not without bright spots (celestial production design dazzles, Butterfield’s niceties are refreshing in today’s day and age), but it’s ultimately more a slog than serendipitous romance.

War On Everyone is a pitch-black, nihilistic riot, like a pissed-off teenager spinning atop a mountain with two outstretched middle fingers pointing in every direction.

Resident Evil: The Final Chapter proves that there's nothing left in the tank of this grossly nondescript zombie-shootin' franchise.

James Franco is a stand-out in I Am Michael, but the film's specific story struggles to relate on a broader scale.

A Dog's Purpose goes the Collateral Beauty route by preying on sadness and not earning its emotional reactions.

The Axe Murders Of Villisca is too familiar a haunted house story to be anything more than generic.

Look into the eyes of My Father Die, and you’ll see honesty. Never once does writer/director Sean Brosnan go out of his way to present “revenge” as a worthwhile venture, as he evokes the beastly nature of such drastic measures.

It may be messy, but the parts that matter go for broke with breakneck ambition.

Split is never as clever or poignant as it thinks it is, but James McAvoy won't let it be forgotten, either.

The Snare is so without substance that you might not even remember watching it.

Pitchfork is defined by a country dance sequence with full boot-stomping choreography - not a great sign for a horror movie.

Keaton’s hazy wading through Kroc’s McDonald’s takeover is a dynamic performance that drives moral emptiness, but remains so poisonously watchable.

The Abandoned is a steadfast and creepy haunted flick, until the final five minutes sink the entire production. It'll work for some, but sadly not for most.

Odar does his best to manipulate Las Vegas’ seedy underbelly (City of Sin, after all), but so much of Sleepless feels like recycled, seen-it-before action genre gristle. The stuff you chew while hoping a little fatty goodness is left.

Attack Of The Lederhosen Zombies doesn't quite live up to its eye-catching name, but still offers enough undead snowboarding mayhem worth a horror laugh.

The Bye Bye Man is an unfathomably inept horror film; one that’s an obvious byproduct of The Babadook/It Follows brand of horror success. It is, without apology, one of the emptiest, nonsensical haunted thrillers ever to fail genre audiences.

Ben Browder's follow-up to Bad Kids Go To Hell is less stylized and more generic, even with the same private-school mean streak.

Monster Trucks is a weird, wacky ride that's made better by its sense of good-natured, juvenile fun (for the most part).

This is dirty, abusive, sticky, heartfelt (?), enlightened (??), intellectual (???), deranged, offensive, damningly provocative filmmaking at its…most…unhinged?

Underworld: Blood Wars is the kind of mainstream horror I want to champion, but lackluster technical aspects nullify Kate Beckinsale's kick-ass performance.

The Ardennes may be saturated in dark blues and snow-covered blankness, but it burns with bright fury as Robin Pront inches closer to his film’s inevitable breaking point.

Railroad Tigers is an action epic that wants to be a comedic goofball, as it fumbles both aspects when trying to meld them together.

A Monster Calls gets off to a rocky start, but once Neeson's talking tree starts spouting tales of wisdom, everything tightens as the tears start flowing.

There are two movies here, neither of which are given a chance to develop into something worthwhile.

It’s broody and disciplined, soaked in the pungent style of foreign auteurs who molded Scorsese’s own love of film – yet overburdened by a downward spiral lacking fire and unforgiving features.

Fences is old-school Americana that's driven by dynamite performances all around, albeit a bit stuffy in nature.

The Autopsy of Jane Doe is an age-old story of family horror that benefits from an approach focused on dark whimsy instead of typical genre jumps.

With Patriots Day, Peter Berg translates national tragedy to cinema screens with power and purpose for the second time this year – yet the question for many is with wounds still healing, do we really need to be subjected to recreations of a hateful act still fresh in our nation’s history?

Collateral Beauty is a Hallmark tear-jerker in the worst way, so out of tune with human emotion that it almost becomes satire.

Rogue One makes up for a shaky first act by punching into overdrive for an outstanding third act battle sequence that overwhelms in scale and intensity.

Why Him? plays a fairly one-note game that gets tiresome halfway through, which is sadly still better than most comedies put out this year.

You'll want to call Slash a "romantic comedy," but that wouldn't do justice to all the social norm blurring that's more about important relationships than a goofy love story.

Beyond The Games plays to the nostalgia crowd instead of adopting 21st century scares, but still finds a way to explore untapped VHS potential.

Obvious and sometimes aggravating no doubt, but still effective in raising blood pressure given a backstory so instilled with old-school cultism.

Abattoir feels like it should still have an "Under Construction" sign warning viewers of the unfinished business to come.

Office Christmas Party is a naughty Xmas comedy stuffed with enough ho-ho-hos and ha-ha-has to corrupt this holiday season.

Pet is scariest when exploiting our social fears of being rejected, and at its worst when playing some psychological switcheroo in a Saw-like basement.

Incarnate is just another buried Blumhouse special, and I assure you its neglect is with good reason.

The Belko Experiment rides a gushing wave of carnage through the elevators of an unsuspecting office building, gleefully making wolves out of sheep.

Rarely is a performance so strong that it’s able to carry an entire production, but – thankfully for John Madden – Chastain wills Miss Sloane into relevance through nothing but sophistication, spunk and champion grit.

SiREN never takes Bruckner's original idea and runs with it, failing to capitalize on a demonic romance that so many V/H/S fans demanded to see more of.

The Hollow Point is a blazing contemporary western that finds pleasure in punishment.

Evolution is undeniably beautiful, but it's a small-scale story which ignores a larger world that needs far more exploration.

This is a glamorous, commanding and important watch, primed to corrupt audience minds for a multitude of passionate reasons – first and foremost of which is that Takal stages one damn fine free-thinking thriller.

Tank 432 does right in building battlefield tension without any gunfire or attacks, but misses its mark in neatly wrapping up yet another paranoid psychological thriller.

Lion may be a little too Oscar-bait-y, but it's not without loud emotional roars.

Bad Santa 2 is the same holiday depravity with half the enthusiasm, too drunk on its own despicable tone.

Visually, Moana shines like a diamond at night.

Allied is a prestige drama without the prestige, wooden in appearance and lacking any true drama.

Officer Downe is a vicious, violent bit of midnight madness that shoots first, and then shoots again for good measure. No need to ask questions.

Fantastic Beasts is both a slice of magical monster mayhem and severely underwritten storytelling, landing somewhere between “pretty passable” and “zany fun” – but certainly nothing fantastic.

True Memoirs Of An International Assassin scores a few lucky shots, but ultimately overstays its welcome.

Ang Lee’s depiction of life after war (or on leave) is a respectful one not without derivative roadbumps, but honest in appeal.

Come And Find Me is a fine-and-dandy missing persons thriller with a romantic twist, suitable for those whose Aaron Paul senses tingle upon reading the film’s synopsis. First-time features are anything but safe bets, so a cheers is in order for Whedon’s accomplishment – no matter how small.

Warren Beatty's Howard Hughes retrospective, Rules Don't Apply, is equally tone-deaf in humor and drama, cobbled together in ways that never seem to fit.

In the end, The Monster does more by way of thrilling tension and heartfelt admissions than it does through any scares, but that doesn’t make it a bad horror film. Bryan Bertino reveals a gushy soft side, only to tear out his heart and hoist it for all to see.

Army Of One is a waste of talent across the board.

The Edge Of Seventeen boasts an emotional journey filled with wit, humor and heart, resting easy on the back of Hailee Steinfeld's dynamite performance.

The Frontier is a stale film from another era, with an unfortunate story that's about as frail as a tumbleweed.

Plainly put, Last Girl Standing explores a unique horror convention from a fresh angle, but can’t execute when it counts.

Rainbow Time is all over the place dramatically, but somehow Linas Phillips ties together a sometimes wacky, otherwise off-beat family dramedy from perspectives unknown.

The Love Witch is a seductive 60s time-capsule that calls back to the technicolor charms of early genre filmmaking.

It's hard not to anticipate many of Verhoeven's moves, but Isabella Huppert is too good to ignore in Elle.

Arrival challenges viewers to a brainier sci-fi conundrum than they're used to, which makes for an intellectual breath of fresh air.

Dog Eat Dog is all bark and no bite, playing around in a sandbox of vulgarity with little rhyme or reason.

Trash Fire blazes with pitch-black wit and a dark, volatile story of redemption so good you'll be laughing your way straight to Hell.

The Windmill is all about kills, but can't generate enough energy to power this derivative, sometimes nonsensical plot.

Doctor Strange is the psychedelic kung-fu spectacle that Marvel hoped director Scott Derrickson would deliver, but it’s got a strange problem – the doctor himself.

12 Years A Slave will beat you down emotionally, scene after scene, without any mercy - but that's just a testament to the brilliant direction, transformation-like performances, and unapologetic storytelling that elevates Steve McQueen's movie high above the masses.

Fear Inc. wastes a devious idea on a slew of reveals that bring momentum to a crushing halt.

Inferno feels every bit like the second sequel in an exhausted franchise, stunted by unfocused storytelling and a blandness that's almost sleep-inducing.