Michael Ordoña

It’s billed as another horror comedy, but when tidbits of humor manifest, it feels forced. There are few notable moments.

Scream 7 is anything but cutting edge.

Die My Love is not plot-driven, with events that don’t necessarily follow one another in cause and effect. Rather, it’s a slow-burn psychological drama populated by imperfect people struggling with painful realities. Instead of a dramatic arc, it’s a dramatic decline.

Roofman hooks viewers with its compelling depiction of a person too smart for his own good. It’s funny and moving, however close to or far from the real events it may be.

The narrative is hamstrung by cliché attempts to build McKay’s backstory, shamelessly changing key facts. McConaughey’s performance is just fine, as is Ferrera’s, but the personal stuff feels like a distraction.

Ultimately, “The Long Walk” is a heartfelt metaphorical drama about people bonding under duress. Instead of focusing on the darker side of human nature one might expect from the average dystopian film, it finds power in small acts of connection.

Ne Zha II surprisingly contains a sincere-feeling theme of individuality, of resisting what society commands a person to be rather than embracing their nature.

The movie doesn’t just suffer by comparison to “High and Low” (itself adapted from Evan Hunter’s novel “King’s Ransom”); taken by itself, its pace drags, its tone staggers and its ideas are muddled.

Opportunities for comedy are missed by miles. Davidson gets gonzo gags, Palmer is 007 with a heart, Murphy and Longoria try to exist in reality. That halfhearted miasma of genres results in tonal confusion. Murphy throws in what seem like ad libs to spice up a moribund script, but it’s not enough to add flavor to a bland stew.

Despite traversing such a familiar track, “F1” delivers something made expressly for the big screen experience. What keeps it from being purely the kind of “theme park” Martin Scorsese demeaned in his criticism of Marvel movies is the Pitt of it all; fortunately for “F1,” it’s always Sonny on the human side.

All that said, this movie is likely review-proof. The franchise is doing just fine without critical approval. This one is less of a slog, but there is precious little interesting or new in Jurassic World Rebirth. It’ll likely earn a billion dollars anyway.

Whereas “Weeks,” made without Boyle’s and Garland’s involvement, felt like a rehash with poorly motivated actions, “Years” is carefully thought out and would be vibrant filmmaking even without the previous material.

The Unholy Trinity is a passable, 95-minute diversion, but an unremarkable one.

The fun and human “Thunderbolts*” is an encouraging sign for the MCU’s future.

The convoluted plot will leave viewers with some unanswered questions, should they pull at its threads, but it’s a good bet they’ll likely leave well enough alone after being so entertained.

The result is a genre entry that avoids the missteps of so many spy movies — the superhero protagonist, the mission not being compelling, relying too much on action sequences and predictable betrayals. Instead, it invests in its world, its relationships, and its premise.

Nickel Boys offers a different way to understand horrors based on true events not that far in the past by plunging viewers into its characters’ humanity.

Kraven the Hunter will sate fans with Taylor-Johnson’s action bona fides and its fine cast. But those same fans may be less-than enthusiastic about the idea that, with no Spider-Man and no franchise to move forward, this one essentially has nowhere to go.

Guadagnino’s filmmaking has never been more vivid.

It’s so detached from the supervillain narrative that it’s almost meta. But as the musical numbers become lengthy detours rather than lending further insight into Arthur, the sequel doesn’t sing as a character study. And it sure ain’t a thriller.

The Wild Robot has a lot to say and its own way of saying it. It’s a big-studio animated feature that has its own look, feel and identity, wrapped around an unusual story with ample humor and plenty of emotion — all of it earned. The movie’s vocal performances, especially from leads Lupita Nyong’o and Pedro Pascal, are excellent. It’s lovely on the outside and on the inside.

Yes, it’s a familiar formula, though instead of buddy cops, it’s buddy cleaners. What these “Wolfs” do is shades darker than the gentleman thievery of the “Ocean’s” larks, and the character comedy comes from a deeper place.

Don’t expect surprises or something to ideologically critique. This is kooky carnage. You came for Dave Bautista stomping a motorcycle into submission, and damn it, that’s what you’re gonna get.

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom may not be consequential in the long run, but it’s a mostly diverting, upbeat closer, one that could hint at the tone of things to come.

Migration isn’t exactly unique, but it’s different enough. And in today’s factory filmmaking, that’s almost as unlikely as milking a duck.

You want to see Eddie Murphy surrounded by some Christmas-themed silliness. And on that score, it’s fine enough, but destined for regifting.

“Dicks” can’t maintain that level of performative thrust all the way through; it sags a bit in the middle, as one might expect from making the considerable jump from the stage and through the hoops of major revisions. But the film bounces back toward its back nine.

The easy chemistry of Peña as the humble and brilliant aspirant and Salazar as the supportive, put-upon wife with dreams of her own makes their scenes together highlights. Salazar brings life and charm to a role that, in another biopic, could have been pretty thankless.