Matt Fowler

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.

Wrong Turn delivers a handful of timely twists and coats the franchise with a new, and vastly more interesting, sheen. It stumbles at times to balance all the themes it's trying to handle with regards to societal ills, individual value, and self-determinism but the end result is still a warped ride that could set up more thrills to come.

Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank curiously exists as a Mel Brooks movie remake, though that's also its most redeeming feature.

There's Someone Inside Your House tries to make you think it's got a catchy, viable gimmick when in reality it's empty and unsatisfying.

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.

Willy's Wonderland is a no-frills splatterfest that, while straining to fill its runtime, finds mid-level chills and thrills thanks to Nic Cage bashing the hell out of weaponized pizza parlor characters. It's a shoestring slasher that gets the job done while also not fully rounding a few of the corners it teases.

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.

The love story between Mark Wahlberg and Halle Berry works, or at least meagerly satisfies, on only surface levels, as does most of the movie.

While sci-fi is generally rife with allegories, a steadier hand was needed here in Voyagers. The messaging, though noble and necessary, feels obvious to the point that it takes you out of the film. The cast is talented and the premise is promising, but the story plays out in a predictable fashion, which also works, in a way, to undercut the meaning.

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.

Blood Red Sky could lose a few minutes, but overall, it's a ferocious and fun merging of vampires and hijackers.

Zach Braff and Gabrielle Union are great pillars here, though the film itself isn't consistent enough with its tone, snapping back and forth between sweet sentiment and cheap gags.

Night Teeth's winning lead trio and its glossy, electronic buzz save this Collateral clone from sinking into full nonsense. The film's usually interesting, though it never truly strikes with malice or meaning the way it wants to

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.

The Woman in the Window has both flash and fizzle. Amy Adams is great in the lead role, presenting us with a shattered recluse who wages war on lucidity daily, but the rest of the cast, while noteworthy, are sort of relegated to being plot pawns. Still, if you're looking for a higher class of claustrophobic Noir, and don't care too much about the resolution, there's a playfulness on display here that might scratch an airport novel itch.

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.

The Boss Baby: Family Business delivers middle-road mirth, full of action and quasi-clever jokes, and featuring the fun voice additions of James Marsden, Jeff Goldblum, and Amy Sedaris.

America: The Motion Picture is like Drunk History if the history were not only drunk but also on nitrous. Channing Tatum once again proves he's a comedy force to be reckoned with, backed by a stellar cast of capable and cunning joke spitters.

Sandler and Aniston's chemistry elevates a breezy, bumpy overseas caper.

It's a bizarre and overly rambunctious ride that forsakes cleverness for Billboard acts and dizzying set pieces.

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.

Addison Rae and Tanner Buchanan are magnetic leads in this reboot that pays homage to the first film, but fully stands on its own. It manages to cut through modern high school b.s. while transforming two posers into presentable, likable people.

Coffee & Kareem keeps it simple, short, and to the (ultra) violent point as a raunchy cop comedy with clever jokes, zany action, and fun chemistry between leads Ed Helms and young Terrence Little Gardenhigh. It's a small cast but everyone in it is pretty funny, and the director easily knows how to craft a compelling mismatched partner scenario.

Despite the inherent ugliness of watching a rich kid diabolically dig into a mom and dad who are just trying to save their home for the sake of their own children, Home Sweet Home Alone has some decent wit and heart to it. Archie Yates is good as the new precocious protector of his lair, but it's Rob Delaney and Ellie Kemper who anchor the film and give it something resembling a soul.

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

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

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

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.