Matt Fowler

Tom and Jerry hit the big screen for a hybrid live-action romp that too often feels like it's not even their movie.

Wrath of Man has plenty of anger and action, and it's at its intriguing best when the entire story gets sorted out and all the players are on the board, but it stumbles at being a time-release mystery.

Bruised is a good outing for Halle Berry as a director, though a better reminder of her as a star. Aside from that, however, the story progression is light on impact.

Escape the Undertaker is a benign but effective use of Netflix's interactive abilities. Pairing the most macabre WWE Superstar with the company's most positive players makes for a fun showdown, one that you might wish had made it to official WWE TV -- not in this form, of course, but as a noble "turn to the dark side" storyline.

Point Blank's production bones are solid and the action itself is clear and capable, but the story is woefully past its expiration date and the attempt to tether it back to the types of "action movies we grew up with" falls flat.

Underground is cartoonishly raucous explosion porn from mayhem maestro Michael Bay that feels like a film that was made over a decade ago and was just somehow recently unearthed by Netflix. It's a testament to star Ryan Reynolds and his seemingly effortless charisma because without him the movie would have been a snow-blind mess.

Despite solid performances from Zac Efron and Ryan Kiera Armstrong, Firestarter feels stifled in story and presentation.

Metal Lords is earnest with metal but sloppy with character and story. It delivers a rousing finale but the journey there is uninspired and half-formed.

The story's lifted a bit by some of the solid comedic actors, and the WWE Superstars who make a run-in, but when the story isn't sloppy, it's paint-by-numbers.

Hubie Halloween is aggressively stupid, sure, but it's also occasionally endearing (with a guilty chuckle or two).

Cry Macho has spare moments of charm and tranquility, but mostly it's a dry and unfinished story that fails to hit even the most basic of Story 101 beats.

Copshop is meaningfully and enjoyably derivative as a patchwork homage to '70s shoot-em-up cinema (even Spaghetti Westerns), but it never quite reaches its potential.

The Astronaut has a game lead in Kate Mara and the decent stagings of a monster mystery, but it winds up being a humdrum offering in a genre usually teeming with imagination and innovation.

Don't Make Me Go features excellent performances from John Cho and Mia Isaac, but it stumbles big at the finish line.

The Last Mercenary has bounding energy and a fun take on star Jean-Claude Van Damme's past exploits as an action star, but the humor is way more miss than hit and the actual nuts-and-bolts spy plot is a trudge.

Glenn Close and Amy Adams shine in Ron Howard's new, rather unfocused film about abuse, poverty, and addiction.

The Cellar has a cool and creepy set up but then fizzles once the answers start arriving.

Kate Siegel does her best to elevate a simplistic thriller that follows all the same beats you're accustomed to.

Greyhound has occasional bursts of violent excitement but it's overall lack of engaging characters, the unappetizing CG, and the lackluster story make for a very color-by-numbers outing from a headlining star capable of a whole lot more.

Gunpowder Milkshake does its formidable cast dirty with a bland script, recycled story, and an empty comic book style that does little but shine up a stale outing.

Me Time has bursts of energy and vibrancy, mostly involving its two leads and their snappy chemistry, but it's also a hodgepodge of predictable buddy comedy beats that doesn't do much to separate itself from what's come before.

Outside the Wire is too long, too impenetrable, and not fun enough to warrant its lofty man vs. machine gimmick. It's fun to watch Anthony Mackie assume the role of a smart, cordial killbot, but the film's occasionally exciting bits of action aren't enough to breathe life into this muddled mess of a story.

Cherry is big on style and features a bouncy, pricey soundtrack but its examination of the grim reality behind the veteran/addiction cycle feels rather routine. Holland breaks down many barriers here, performance-wise, and delivers the goods as a fantastic surrogate for societal ills, but the movie is plodding and, overall, an underwhelming patchwork of previous projects.

A muddled mix of '90s teen flicks, curated for a new generation (with a Hitchcock premise swirled in), Do Revenge is a lukewarm high school vengeance tale that never settles on a tone and is barren when it comes to laughs.

The Marksman is perfectly watchable old man reckoning cinema, held together by good performances by Liam Neeson and young Jacob Perez, but it's ultimately not much more than an assembly line of non-surprises.

The Jesus Rolls, while a passion project for the writer/director/star -- though it's unclear what Turturro wanted to do more: remake Going Places or do a Jesus follow-up? -- comes off like a flat fever dream. The famous faces are fun and at times there's a wee bit of misfit charm, but in the end it's clumsy and churlish.

The Starling contains themes of grief and guilt that are worth exploration, but finds itself unable to delve deep into these elements, instead relying on bad bird effects and a needlessly quirky and eccentric tone to gloss over most of the uncomfortable elements.

Simon Pegg and Lily Collins act the hell out of a script with a fun set-up and a lazy payoff.