Yet the genius of Her Smell is that it's not about Becky. It's about the chaos she causes. Moss and Perry could let her dominate the frame as she does the room, but each sequence is about how everyone else deals with the damage she leaves behind.

A cheap attempt to re-create the spark that has made the "Conjuring" franchise so lucrative. It’s pathetic, and both horror fans and the Latinx community deserve more respect than this lazy attempt at a cash grab. A decent performance from Linda Cardellini doesn’t save a film loaded with predictable jump scares and weak mythos building.

It perfectly catches that childish point just before adolescence, where young boys are starting to notice girls but still want to find frogs in pools.

When Hellboy does succeed, it is glorious. Harbour and Jovovich understand this kind of inflated supernatural action, and when it's just them inhabiting the line between two worlds (such as Hellboy's trip to face the child-eating Russian witch, Baba Yaga), or when the narrative is given time to breathe, there's a sense of the movie this could and should have been.

That spiky aunt is played by Estelle Parsons (Bonnie & Clyde); one of the pleasures of Diane is the rare platform it gives older actresses, including Andrea Martin, Phyllis Somerville, and Deirdre O’Connell.

Most of all, Missing Link is a perfect addition to Laika’s thoughtful blend of action, adventure, and heartfelt tales of growing up.

Despite the star power pushing this thing along, the plot is seemingly held together with duct tape, but the more problematic aspects involve sloppy editing.

For all the accurate comparisons to Brian De Palma and Italian giallo films – particularly in the murder scenes and M83’s synthy score, though it’s much more narratively cohesive – I see lots of other potential influences as well. There’s a seedy glamour and a noir sensibility that owes as much to Eighties films Vortex and Variety.

High Life is a meandering mess of symbolism, half-thoughts, ponderous exchanges, and emotional dead ends, one that confuses ambiguity for an unengaging air of vagueness.

No chaperones are necessary to watch this genteel movie. Although the terrific cast manages to deliver some small, lovely moments, The Chaperone keeps its corset fully laced and its narrative intentions in check.

For a movie focusing so intently on personal faith, it doesn’t much trust your independent capacity to find religious, spiritual, or other meaning in what is truly an amazing story.

Like the culturally complex and often overwhelming island nation itself, Black Mother is a haunting and singular experience unlike any other.

Backed by the Rev. James Cleveland, a small band, and the extraordinary Southern California Community Choir, Aretha delivers a stunning, inspirational performance, moving both the choir and the audience to paroxysms of joy and celebration.

Those satisfied with a few solid jump scares - of the Things-In-a-Mirror or Hands-on-the-Shoulder variety - will likely find just enough in Mercy Black to pass muster. It’s just a shame that a horror movie smart enough to ask all the right questions cannot seem to provide us with many answers.

While it remains obvious (and sometimes tedious) what road Tammi and writer Teresa Sutherland are traveling down with The Wind, Gerard remains a strong, harrowing presence.

With remarkable access, Klayman is prepared to let Bannon hang himself with his own words.

Despite its probe of deep moral questions, Woman at War (a multiple award winner on the festival circuit as well as having been Iceland’s entry for Oscar consideration last year) maintains a light feel and concludes with a sense of uplift as we watch human beings forge ahead despite the floodwaters rising around them.

As with most superhero movies, Shazam! is also as much a harbinger of sequels to come as it is a stand-alone film. This, surprisingly, is where Sandberg’s film shows the most promise.

It may seem damning with faint praise to call Pet Sematary just a pretty good horror film, but given how many years we’ve been devoid of quality Stephen King adaptations or wide-release genre films, fans should be pretty thrilled with what Kölsch and Wideyer have accomplished. There’s more than enough here to please horror enthusiasts and die-hard King fans alike.

Babylon's cultural specificity is what gives it power, putting it as much in a tradition of British alienated youth movies like Brighton Rock and Quadrophenia (not coincidentally written by Babylon scriptwriter Martin Stellman).

Leads Henson (barely recognizable under a mountain of Tyler Perry-esque practical makeup) and Rockwell turn in top-notch, emotion-laden performances, buoyed by a supporting cast of equally fine character actors.

There’s a moment in The Beach Bum when aging wastrel Moondog smokes a joint in a hammock, surrounded by naked women, with two hands on a bongo drum and a mouthful of gibberish poetry. That moment lasts 95 minutes, and it is glorious.

This is a film about people who are stuck, not just by the structures that bind them, but by themselves. Transit is a brilliant and timely film that reminds us that we may all be currently in hell, and regret the folly of our lives, but perhaps we have each other.

A sex-positive comedy that has a wit and a bite that are undeniable even though it at times traffics in traditional rom-com conventions.

What makes The Hummingbird Project so intriguing is that it explores areas of business – and of industrial espionage – so esoteric that it's hard to imagine that it's really a business model.

The finished product is two hours of fist-clenching action, suddenly violent and steadily horrifying.

With eight segments, most directed by Fantastic Fest alumni, and a near-two-hour run time, it's a little overpacked, and it's stylistically so diverse, with each section totally independent of the others, that it can become a long trip through the woods. At the same time, its variations are a strength, with a little something for everyone.

The sadness harbored by all the film’s characters is evident. Their passions, however, stem from ginned-up claptrap about love and hate being opposite expressions of one overwhelming emotion which can also substitute for each other.