Matt Donato

Daddio is a repetitive and reductive experiment in dialogue-driven storytelling.

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

We Bury The Dead is a sprawling but sparse zombie remix that's too far removed from the genre it's exploiting.

Justice League is a sloppy team-up film that doesn't even take time to properly introduce pivotal members of its titular team, but when you're playing a dangerous (also ill-advised) game of catch up, these are the risks.

A few images sear with the burning sensation of undead terror, but that only accounts for a few short minutes of an otherwise more-daunting-than-it-should-be cinematic exploration of death.

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

Bambi: The Reckoning is an audaciously bloody but distractingly humorless creature feature.

Terminator: Dark Fate is a good Terminator franchise entry by comparison, but still falls into many of the pitfalls that modern reboots/remakes/sequels struggle to sidestep when balancing nostalgia with hyper-CGI action.

Power Rangers doesn't completely fail as an origin story, but it's too familiar with its new-age reboot mentality that repurposes instead of recreates.

It’s a remake that lacks identity, urgency and enthusiasm—such a shame after Keith Thomas’ outstanding horror debut.

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.

Mileage will vary, dictated by your appreciation for methodical avalanches of sorrow driven by puritanical pressures. Everything is minimalistic, punctuated by the devastating context found in the research that helped shape Franz and Fiala’s screenplay. Some viewers will recognize dedication, others will have their patience tested.

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

Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey is noteworthy only for its name, as it turns out that blending slasher blood with Pooh’s honey together is like oil and water: it just doesn’t mix.

Bay's latest Transformer title is a daunting behemoth of a film and you can feel every ounce of dead weight, as sins of the past are committed without any signs of stopping.

Quite simply, it’s impossible to “enjoy” a film that makes you feel even worse about the society we live in – especially when it’s so gobsmackingly unaware itself.

Meg 2: The Trench has all the excitement of fishing solo for two hours without a single bite. Wheatley is a shell of himself behind the camera, devoid of personality and originality.

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

Hellraiser: Judgment is a stuffy police procedural masquerading as a torturous Pinhead franchise entry.

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

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

This year's Inside remake swaps Bustillo and Maury's brutalization levels for beyond-generic thrills that are more frustrating than fierce - whatever that's worth.

There’s not a single character worth caring about, and even less artistic licence to appreciate. This is a dirty, depraved love-letter to horror that’s written in a bunch of different colored crayons to mask such simple words with distracting colors.

The Boss Baby is a movie made for few audiences, inconceivably inept in its ability to blend adult references with children's immaturity.

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.

On the 3rd Day never coheres, it’s just Halloween Mad Libs trying to fake its way through an actual start-to-finish storyline.

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

The First Purge doubles-down on bloody opposition against true-to-life societal fears, but abandons the subtlety needed to prevent Gerard McMurray’s prequel from becoming anything more than hateful retribution.