Terminator: Dark Fate is personified in the Rev-9. The new terminator is a nanite skin over a combat endoskeleton. It should be two for the price of one: Instead, it's the chassis of the original draped with the flesh of Robert Patrick's "Judgment Day" liquid metal shapeshifter. It's everything you loved before, just awkwardly kludged together.

Like a classroom history lesson, the script by director Lemmons and Gregory Allen Howard dutifully recounts the life of this extraordinary person. The movie feels prosaic, although Tubman’s occasional intonation of a timeless spiritual in lieu of dialogue is an unexpected lyrical touch enhanced by the purity of Erivo’s voice.

Surprisingly, Countdown works best when it operates less as a Nineties horror homage and more as a modern horror-comedy.

Portals feels like a first pass at a bigger idea, and a framing mechanism that takes a wild series of closing turns sets up a much bigger – and darkly interesting – universe. In that way, Portals promises more in future than it delivers here.

An abundance of color is present in Pain and Glory but the shades are more muted than Almodóvar’s early color-saturated work. Thematically and visually, this film has more in common with such Almodóvar dramas as "All About My Mother" and "Talk to Her." Pain and Glory is ultimately the story of an artist on the verge of a creative breakthrough.

When looking at the one-two punch of The Lighthouse and "The Witch," Eggers seems to find inspiration in how superstition and folklore blurred the boundaries of human knowledge throughout history. His characters live in the space between mankind and mysticism, where things like witches and mermaids can (and maybe even do) gain access to our homes.

Absurdist humor abounds throughout a story whose underlying themes echo Elvis Costello’s eternal question, “What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?” even as corpses dangle from a foregrounded gallows.

It can be an incredibly entertaining romp through the picket fence yards of an America that only exists in our collective unconscious.

The Current War is a remarkable period piece, one that evokes the transition from the era of soot and gaslights to the electrical age. The script by Michael Mitnick does not take sides, instead letting the two forefathers of the age of amperes jostle for a multitude of reasons: commerce, ambition, greed, intellectual drive, hubris, and a genuine aim to make the world a better place.

Black and Blue is almost incoherently edited, dumping out chase scenes where characters round corners and enter rooms with absolutely no sense of spacing or location. That, plus a predictable number of digital squibs, prevents the film from connecting as either art or entertainment.

In a year when the coy social mores of upstairs and downstairs have been filtered once again through the aristocratic monocle of "Downton Abbey," it's a relief that there's a film this year that tackles the servant/master relationship with the straight-for-the-jugular malice of Parasite.

Whether you view it as a trenchant treatise on the contemporary effects of Marxism, or just a wonderfully odd glimpse into a fading star of the fashion industry, Celebration is at turns beguiling, fascinating, and true, which is what one should want and need out of a documentary.

As sequels go, Double Tap delivers the goods, but exists in a realm that feels more like a second serving than a new taste treat. It still tastes good, but nothing ever replicates the joy of the first bite. Just ask a zombie.

Visually stunning, Mistress of Evil achieves full fairy-tale splendor – flowers glow, trees walk, and fairies of all shapes, sizes, and colors take flight. The elaborate costumes, especially those worn by Michelle Pfeiffer’s Queen Ingrith, are noteworthy and will surely inspire many a Halloween look. In short, this is where the second Maleficent excels, an instant crowd-pleaser for any fantasy-loving child or adult.

It was likely from Mikhanovsky’s own experience driving a medical transport van that he was able to tap into the complexity and full humanity of the different characters and thus, manifest a greater truth.

Kroll's Fester in particular is a spot-on imitation of Jackie Coogan's spittle-spraying happy-go-lucky freak.

A wicked return to form for Murphy, who absolutely nails Moore’s straight outta West Hollywood brio and never-say-die single-mindedness. It's an often uproarious glimpse into microbudget filmmaking and the fearless badassery of the man they called Dolemite.

Well-researched and candid, this documentary will not change anyone’s perception of Cohn or rehabilitate his character in any way. Although his self-loathing insecurities may slightly humanize him, he will always be one-dimensionally evil.

What makes Midnight Traveler distinct from its counterparts is that it follows filmmaker Hassan Fazili’s own family, and the intimacy he’s able to capture over the life spans of three iPhones makes his documentary more tender and honest and immediate.

The most interesting part of Lucy in the Sky is that second act, in which the main character is basically besieged by struggles with her own psyche and the male-dominated world of NASA, and her pining for not just Goodwin but for a return to the view of the universe that only a chosen few have seen.

Gemini Man features strong chemistry between its leads and an undercurrent of regret that makes it surprisingly empathetic for an action movie. Do away with the digital de-aging, and this might’ve emerged as one of the more enjoyable action movies of 2019. Then again, for some, it probably already is.

Tokyo Ghoul: S is at its best when it embraces its high weirdness (Shu setting up a cannibalistic threesome is hilarious) but it's never sure what it wants to be.

Rapid Response is a celebration of behind-the-scenes heroes, and their dedication to medicine and science as a way to save lives. Its microfocus, anecdotal structure, and reliance on archive footage and talking heads, undoubtedly makes this one for the true devotees of motorsports, but they'll not want to miss it.

The movie's critiques of the music industry, the ganja trade, and organized religion still ring true.

Be forewarned: Anthropocene is often an overwhelming experience. The human accountability on display can be tough to swallow.

The Parts You Lose captures the wintry isolation of North Dakota well, and the actors involved ensure that it’s never unwatchable. Yet this is the worst kind of bad movie: a film with absolutely nothing to say.

It’s DC Comics playing rough, but not rough enough, but maybe that’s too much to ask. Where is the fucking "Hellblazer" movie already.

Yet while this vibrant and energetic version of Miike is certainly a blast, it can feel underwhelming when you know this was the same man who made the visceral and disturbed "Visitor Q" and the bone-chilling "Audition."