Michael Roffman

The problem is that, unlike The Big Short, he can’t seem to wrestle with the drama, and when Vice takes a more dramatic turn towards its manic third act, McKay’s preaching winds up feeling like Oliver Stone, Jr. All of those meta, tongue-in-cheek quirks start becoming self righteous and smug when they used to be clever and decisive. It’s a damn shame

Disappointing and confounding, Velvet Buzzsaw can ultimately be filed under What Could Have Been given the kind of talent involved.

While some viewers may get enough of a nostalgia kick out of Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark, the film doesn’t feel entirely fleshed out. There are elements that make for creepy experiences, keeping the viewer on the edge of their seat, but they often serve as short bundles of anxiety in a serviceable story.

Unlike similar thrillers cut from the same antihero cloth, Katz and Blair aren’t too concerned with frivolous and expected dalliances like redemption or honor. Instead, they run Coster-Waldau through the ringer, capitalizing on an unforgiving narrative that may be too bleak and uncompromising for some.

Little Monsters oozes with heart and soul, making for an ultra likable, last-minute addition to a genre that should be buried 12-feet under in the near future.

This is sharp blockbuster filmmaking, coming at a time when IP is seemingly the only thing that gets any door open in Hollywood these days. Rather than churn out something cynical or pandering, though, Flanagan has instead taken that IP and instilled it with heart. Not just the chummy heart he’s hallmarked in past efforts, but the kind that comes from a creator who’s offered a chance to truly honor his influences and run with them.

The Lovebirds is exactly what you want right now in quarantine. It’s a city-scrolling adventure with two catchy leads and romance to boot. It’s the perfect date movie.

Something’s missing in Complete Unknown, and it’s a spiritual issue. The problem is that for this situation, the unlikely reunion, a natural approach restricts any and all sensationalism, which is why the ending neither bruises nor squeezes — it just lingers.

It: Chapter Two doubles down on the exhausting jump scares and CGI that plagued the 2017 original. Yet for all its faults—and there are many—it’s still an enthralling and emotionally affecting piece of blockbuster filmmaking.

There’s just not a lot of weight to this sequel, at least not enough to dissuade anyone from seeing this as anything but a limpid cash grab.

An American Pickle is cute — nothing more, nothing less. It’s not laugh-out-loud funny; it’s folksy funny. This is chicken soup for the soul, arriving at a time when Americans could use a balmy parable on family and tradition.

Simply put, Elle Fanning is Teen Spirit. This is a performance piece, nothing more and nothing less, and those invested in seeing Fanning soar in her career have every reason to watch.

If you’re going to tackle serious subject matter, maybe don’t run it through tacky fluff that amounts to a fleeting sugar high. Sure, this movie will get all the right oohs and aahs, sighs and sobs — it certainly won over the freebie test audience at my screening, good god — but it won’t linger.

Although it’s by far the weakest of the three, there are some genuinely creative moments that spark the brain and fry the hairs.

Despite its flaws, the film still manages to win you over, even if it never actually surprises you, making it quite an assured debut.

Which is why Antibirth feels more like an anti-film, a piss-poor assembly of remarkable cult actors and brazen narratives that start off divorced without ever being married.

Frank and Lola is an electric modern noir that thrives from indelible characters and a palatable style.

While American Fable isn’t without its share of flaws, it’s the type of inventive production that hints of happier endings to come.

Although the film lacks his absurdism, there’s a musicality to Wain’s direction that’s addicting, and the emotional punch in the final five minutes proves there’s a future for the filmmaker that goes way beyond the yucks.

At 90 minutes, Becky should be a taut, hair-raising thriller, one that keeps you at the edge of your seat. It doesn’t. Instead, the thing ebbs and flows, peaking when you expect it to, and sinking when your heart’s just beginning to race.

Patient, meditative, and sanguine, Adopt a Highway is a rugged slice of Americana.

It’s a breakneck conclusion to what’s been a breakneck restart.

There’s a same ol’, same ol’ wash to X-Men: Apocalypse that wasn’t quite as apparent in the previous two entries.

This is a film predicated on voyeurism, and while it’s arguably another big ol’ starefest from Refn, the viewer’s patience is earned with unquestionable tension made all the more palpable by its troubled protagonist.

Things move at such a breakneck pace and the film is so manic tonally that Rough Night winds up feeling more like a series of vignettes than an actual movie.

Scoff, roll your eyes, and shrug all you want, but the hyperbolic nature of The Hunt is all part of the fun, and whether you take this literally, or metaphorically, rhetorically, spiritually, whatever, it all boils down to a big ol’ sensationalized portrait of a very heated country.

It’s good to see Black and Dekker offer up something so boisterous and stupid as The Predator. Is it messy? Absolutely. But, is it fun? It’s popcorn, baby.

Blair Witch is disappointing on multiple levels, all of which have nothing to do with the franchise.