Michael Roffman

Everything is dandy until it’s not and that’s what makes Hot Summer Nights such a stirring and vivid presentation. The stakes are real. Those stakes are what elevate the film from being strictly a chewy exercise in nostalgia.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice isn’t a film. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour movie trailer. Better yet, it’s one of those videos that pop up on screens before a ride at Universal Studios, where all the actors speak to you and keep hinting at bigger things to come — you know, like a ride? Basically, it’s everything the SEO-friendly title promises — and more.

There isn’t much to love, there isn’t much to hate, there’s mostly just indifference.

Shyamalan comes off so smug by the end of this movie that it’s insufferable — and also kind of jarring. It’s as if he’s learned nothing from his past and still believes he’s pulling a quick one on his audience.

It’s a paint-by-numbers would-be blockbuster entirely built around the delusional notion that general audiences can’t be scared by anything more thoughtful than recycled jump shocks and derivative monsters.

What really hurts the film is its messy screenplay and boilerplate direction.

Everything’s so achingly foul and with zero finesse, which makes for an awful, joyless experience.

It’s an unnecessary, monotonous, 102-minute scrapbook of better horror films that fails to muster even a spark of originality.

Farahani is quite liberal crosscutting between the story’s varying point of views.... This manic style offers the film all of the necessary intrigue to make its story captivating, but it’s at the expense of being incredibly manipulative to its audience.