Peyton Robinson

Regrettably botched, despite its bold concept at its core, “Slanted” is too simple to make a statement.

Sykes steps into the role enthusiastically, but Miller’s script (with cowriter Anita M. Cal) is beat-you-over-the-head melodramatic, making Sykes’ committed effort to deliver heartfelt pathos all the more difficult to buy.

It moves at a breakneck pace to get to its primary plot, but neglects the emotional backdrop required to really invest. Indulgence itself is the film’s greatest lack.

The moving parts of this thriller are subservient to nailing plot points down on a bulletin of perfectly wound red twine. On account of this, “The Woman in Cabin 10” entertains enough to pass the time, but certainly doesn’t thrill.

It’s a bit of a tropey mess, but the intent is clear: to have fun. And while the fun-having of the filmmaking itself translates well to the screen amidst a few genuine laughs, “London Calling” is mostly stale.

It’s flimsy and forgettable without tension or investment to inspire.

With the added threads of female-specific and child celebrity woven through, “Trust” had the potential to be not just thrilling but thoughtful. Yet with an unfocused eye and clumsy pen, it falls way short of the mark.

The spirit of religious promise that Perione’s film introduces goes quizzically betrayed. What ensues becomes an attempted campy teen thriller, but without the tension or reward.

The film falls victim to the subtlety of a ten-car pile-up. Neither the characters, all archetypal, nor the sequencing of the story, choppy and ham-fisted, inspire any engagement in its subject matter.

With less textbook dedication to its metaphors and more sleight of hand in its structure, “Cellar Door” would accomplish the tension it intends, but its bland approach fails to inspire investment.

Uglies is an Orwellian tale with weak conviction. Among its contemporaries, it’s a disappointing volume in the YA dystopian canon.

Blink Twice sucker punches the audience with its sexual violence and then fails to find intelligence or dexterity in its handling of it or any of the themes running adjacent.

The Union delivers tonal whiplash on account of its failure to exceed at either end of its genre attempt at action-comedy.

This idea of shopping local takes new meaning and adheres to the heartstrings as the credits begin, but much of the detail fails to make an impact, and “She Rises Up” becomes largely forgettable.

Taylor-Johnson’s film, penned by Matt Greenhalgh, is concerned with Amy the addict, making “Back to Black” a dreadful, dastardly attempt at a biopic.

In choosing Neil as the center of Ella’s story and uplifting heavy scenes while skating through more grounded moments, “A Bit of Light” relies on artificial emotional investment and neglects the nuance and power of mundanity.

Shirley views itself as a punchy, exciting political dossier, but lacks the attention to detail to make it anything other than a historical summary.

Imaginary is utterly forgettable, bland, and directionless, ironically so, as for a film that lauds the power of imagination, it shockingly neglects the very element of its own ethos.

Perhaps with less questions left unanswered, “Drift” would permit a more sympathetic lead, but the flatness and flippance of its context leaves everything on the surface.

An action comedy with feeble fight scenes and little laughs creates a film that feels more like a screen test than a finished product.

The opening moments of the first act are rendered as the film’s best, as No One Will Save You continues to fall apart due to a frustrating lack of narrative context.

There's an overall lack of thoughtfulness in The Nun II regarding scares, and Chaves is vehemently loyal to oversaturated tropes. The movie starkly neglects creativity and, in turn, lacks effective fear.

Where the central four characters' friendship and intersecting romantic relationships are meant to be the film’s grounding center, there's nothing but flimsy connections and dead air. There’s no chemistry between the characters and no genuine feeling in their performances.

The Pod Generation is thoughtful and timely but flat, an opaque expression of an overly simple thesis.

The hazy horizons and warmth of the Wild West lend to stunning cinematography, but the bones of the visuals are not enough to support the film. Mandler’s direction is effective for the genre, but there’s a fatiguing number of posed cowboy-against-the-horizon shots that begin to feel kitschy on account of their frequency.

One True Loves is so frustratingly superficial that it fails to gain a modicum of sincerity.

A Lot of Nothing takes a fraction of a stance on how Black people are socially caricatured and systemically discriminated against. So when the film reaches its big reveal and the discussion of it, it spins any assumption of intention into obscurity.

Its goal is to be a feel-good film, and it sort of accomplishes that. But from the predictable plot structure and series of overt zingers to the eye-rolling litany of on-the-nose needle drops, The People We Hate at the Wedding is awkwardly executed.