Matt Donato

Holder's wayward romantic indie chases meaning through quiet reflections that navigate hardship somewhat cleanly. While it's a delightful representation of Brooklyn's playground, scenes flow through motions like a wandering observer.

The Thing with Feathers can be a rich and somewhat bizarre experience about processing trauma, accepting death, and moving on.

Kramer plays with surreal department store catalog visuals and body-swap quirkiness, leaning heavily on interpretive dance to convey meaning. There's nothing like it, but with such extravagant boldness comes risks, and they don’t always pay off.

Peter Pan’s Neverland Nightmare is a bleak, mean-spirited take on a childhood classic that trades Peter’s sparkle-bright magic for overbearing seriousness and disappointingly straightforward thrills.

Gudegast's film feels almost artificially programmed in its adherence to criminal caper tropes, unable to steal our hearts with the bromantic charms of cops and robbers with boundary issues.

Sonic The Hedgehog 3 lets its animated heroes shine. There’s less “live” in this impressively blended live-action movie, which is not a detriment.

Here, genre hybridization is a losing battle, sacrificing scares and intensity in favor of corny jokes about Instagram not yet being invented.

The Gutter demands that you’re on its wavelength, but once you’re there, it’s like continual machine gun fire the way jokes and sight gags fly off the screen.

It plays like a late-night serial killer special on a true crime channel. It's organic, unnerving, and proficiently grounded as a modern criminal nightmare.

Michael Jai White's million-dollar presence and fancy fighting techniques aren't powerful enough to overcome dull scripting and odd performance choices.

Mr. Crocket is a bloody good time that takes all your favorite childhood television shows and gives them a hellish makeover.

Heavier Trip is another gift to metalheads that has me hungry for a third, hopefully with a return to the more renegade nature of their original kitchen-sink odyssey.

Krazy House is "krazy" for all the wrong reasons.

It's a suspenseful family drama that drowns in the location's surroundings, unable to capitalize on its Shyamalanian influences.

V/H/S/Beyond is the most cohesive, best arranged, and most creatively complementary V/H/S yet. Here’s hoping we get a bundle of found-footage mayhem like this one every Halloween for the foreseeable future.

Gaztelu-Urrutia’s expansion feels redundant and over-explained, but also sludgy and disjointed. It’s like being served a second dinner after you’re uncomfortably full; the flavors taste the same, but the experience is far less fulfilling.

Stream meanders, spending too much time saying so little. Quirks aren’t explained, we’re plopped into a scheme without much catchup, and the entire experience is bloated beyond reason. There’s a tighter edit of Stream somewhere, but it ain’t this version, much to my disappointment.

Between picture-in-picture viewers, pop-up ads, reality posing as unreality, and a seconds-long attention span, Baby Invasion is a Reddit thread vision board with little to offer.

Get Away is a deceptive blast that properly exploits vacationer stereotypes to conceal vastly more wicked intentions.

Better Man is in a category of successful biopic dramatizations all unto itself.

Terrifier 3 is a bounty of practical effects riches that cannot be denied, but its storytelling is scattershot in ways that hold the sequel back.

It’s artistic, ravenous, and boundless in a way that honors the spirits of the New French Extremity movement. MadS is the kind of horror experience that feels like you’re new to the genre again — and oh what a glorious feeling that is.

Harris and Dormer are the best of frenemies in this sneakily stupendous character study, as relentless as it is mysterious.

It's a Frankenstein'ed monstrosity made of different horror approaches, except instead of bringing something to life, unrevivable ideas remain limp and useless.

One or two jokes might cause a titter, but the other ninety-eight percent of this unfunny deflation has nothing to offer but hormonal awkwardness without the gut-busting payoff.

It’s more than just a failure of a remake — it’s disappointing on its own standalone merits, too.

For better or worse, Kostanski's throwback creature feature wants older horror fans to feel like their childish selves again — as long as their childhoods were filled with Charles Band and Pee-Wee Herman.

Greedy People is somewhat tonally amiss, but not long enough for the experience to self-destruct. It's a fine working backward whodunit from the inside out.