Concrete Cowboy is visually engaging, and might appeal to younger teenagers (its R-rating is primarily for language). But anyone already familiar with the dynamics of summer-vacation character-building may find it unsatisfying—even unconvincing.

Martin and Lindsay’s Tina all too often struggles to show Turner as a three-dimensional person — her wants, her beliefs, her passions — in lieu of her being a product of the abuse she withstood from Ike. As a tribute, it’s a disappointing slog for an always-vibrant legend.

Smiles will surface, regardless, as Godzilla vs. Kong is pure escapism and tremendously fun. Legendary clearly took constructive criticism to heart by tinkering with the pitfalls of its Monsterverse, all of which makes for a stylish theme park ride that rarely loses steam. Granted, the smash ’em and mash ’em action may not be for everyone (you have our sympathies), but for those starving for a rock ’em and shock ’em blockbuster, step into the ring with Godzilla vs. Kong.

In a genre often saturated with sugar-coated stories and selective memories, Poly Styrene: I Am a Cliché proves to be anything but.

Highlighting the reciprocal nature that many musicians share with their fans in unprecedented fashion, the film’s raw and authentic approach is as engaging as Charli herself.

Somewhere You Feel Free is a beautiful musical tribute to one of rock’s greatest figures, gone all too soon. Just don’t expect to learn too many deep dark secrets about the man in the process.

This is a three-hour documentary whose only problem is that it’s not even longer. Whether you’re a lifelong genre fiend or someone who just sampled Midsommar for the first time and needs another fix, Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched is an absorbing academic exercise in the pedagogy of folk horror.

Even when the narrative strays or lingers a few moments too long, it is Kier that reels it back in. Ultimately, Swan Song succeeds and proves that fabulousness has no expiration date.

It’s rough, messy, and overlong, but may well capture the well-intentioned spirit of what it’s trying to do better than the compromised version we got at release. It may even be something I revisit in the future — just maybe not all in one sitting.

Though clumsily paced and in need of a little more structure, Soleil Moon Frye’s Kid 90 is an achingly personal insight into what it means to truly understand and connect with your past, disguised as a documentary about the perils and pitfalls of childhood stardom in the blossoming age of technology.

For a 33 years-late follow up to a fan favorite? This isn’t terrible, not even close. Will it split the royal underlings that vaunt Landis’s ’88 effort? Maybe. For now, Coming 2 America deserves to be enjoyed as one of Murphy’s better follow-ups.

SpongeBob fans of all ages will find plenty to like about Sponge On the Run: It’s funny, well-animated, and high-spirited. But it’s ultimately more of a franchise play than a creative endeavor.

Lucky is not perfect, but metaphors rarely are. There are jarring narrative jumps that never resolve and a superficiality and dry humor that keep the intensity fairly low. But the message is a blunt one. And given the heavy topic, this levity works in the film’s favor.

Moxie is an inspirational and cathartic journey, representing a dilemma most feminists have faced at one point in their lives. The question of how to use our voices is an important one and Moxie shows that the answers are as varied as the women and men making them. But it’s also an honest look at the challenges and frustrations on the road to gender equality.

Though Raya and the Last Dragon is a visual and audible spectacle anchored by an all-star cast, the film’s lack of originality and paper-thin characters leave it on the less memorable end of Disney animated films.

Andra Day’s Golden Globe-nominated portrayal of Billie Holiday elevates this film and allows us to overlook some of its shortcomings. Her onstage presence is absolutely undeniable. However, Daniels’ interpretation of the singer’s final years fails to fully explore key aspects of Holiday’s life that informed who she was beyond her addiction and activism.

The dispiriting thing is that Tom & Jerry is far from the worst family film in the world. It’s just a familiar, by-the-books, vertically integrated product to ensure continued IP visibility for the film and television arm of a corporate portfolio. Here’s the latest and laziest IP for you to become disenchanted by, should you feel so inclined.

The World’s a Little Blurry is an honest depiction of what it’s like to be a teenage girl. What makes that successful portrayal even more moving is that this particular teenage girl’s life is so untypical to begin with. Although the film runs long, it’s hard to point out any scene that could be cut, because every moment adds to the collage that is Billie Eilish’s world.

There’s a fundamental disconnect between Cherry’s cynicism and Holland’s innate naivete that just makes the whole affair feel wrong somehow, not to mention crushingly long at nearly two and a half hours.

While I Care a Lot has a lot to say about capitalism, feminism, and the current political landscape, it’s also a thrilling dark comedy. The pacing is occasionally slow and some plot points admittedly defy logic, but the film effectively channels the collective rage many of us feel after a year of watching systems catastrophically fail those most in need of their protection.

Literally every ounce of entertainment value you can get out of Willy’s Wonderland comes from thinking about the premise itself: What if Nic Cage fought demonic versions of the mascots from Chuck E. Cheese? But the budget and the talent around Cage just wasn’t there, which robs Willy’s Wonderland of even the dumb, modest thrills promised on the packaging.

It’s been far too long — or it seems like it — since we got a full-throated, ridiculous comedy in theaters. Though it’s a real shame that Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar isn’t going to play to sold-out crowds, it deserves to live on as a cult classic.

Filled with Oscar-worthy performances, Judas and the Black Messiah puts a nostalgic lens on a modern-day struggle.

While it flirts with some exciting and original concepts, The Map of Tiny Perfect Things is plagued with an uninspired story, flat characters, and a pair of romantic leads that have zero chemistry. It’s not overtly offensive, but it’s certainly the kind of movie we won’t remember two time-loops from now.

For all its gorgeous visuals, comforting score, and strong non-verbal performances, there’s just not quite enough there at the script level to make Land‘s broader points, well, land.

Lee Isaac Chung’s smooth ability to craft relatable drama makes him a director to pay attention to. It’s not just that Minari is captivating in the moment. Like the best films, it has images and scenes that will stay with you long after the film is over.

The performances and Fastvold’s poetic and intimate direction make it worth the watch. Perhaps next time, though, she’ll write the script.

Storytelling is an essential part of the human experience: How would we know the past and create futures without it? That conceit is the heart and power of Night of the Kings.

Maybe the formulas we’re so used to will be exactly the vehicle to introduce general audiences to the lived experiences of a community criminally underserved in media.

The question is whether its lol-random approach will appeal to you, or whether its giddy need to throw everything at the wall just flattens into an obnoxious desire to please. Prisoners of the Ghostland knows exactly what it is, but that may not necessarily be a good thing.

There just isn’t enough clarity to properly gauge what Passing is trying to say and who it’s for beyond the dazzling portraits and memorable performances.

Eight for Silver works best as an atmospheric period werewolf film with outstanding gore effects and creature design. Working against the film, however, is Ellis’ padded screenplay chock full of rote characters, drawn-out human conflict, and an ill-advised flashback structure that rips apart its final act.

To watch The Sparks Brothers is to listen to a superfan corner you at a party and evangelize about their favorite band with all the verve of a street preacher. He’s lucky, then, that Sparks is worth the praise, and that Wright’s breathless enthusiasm matches their cheeky, irreverent vibe.

John and the Hole is more of a collection of memorably uncomfortable scenes as opposed to a cohesive (w)hole.

PVT CHAT is a thoroughly modern romantic comedy exploring isolation and loneliness that is equally inspired by Paul Schraeder’s American Gigolo as it is The Apartment. . . Hozie and Fox bring an unparalleled sexiness and authenticity to the kink sequences, an especially impressive feat given that the majority of them take place through computer screens.

Even as On the Count of Three tumbles toward an ending as unpredictable as it is slightly unearned, the bones of its central performances and unabashed embrace of its concept keep you glued to the screen.

Freed from studio constraints, In The Earth is a psychedelic visual spectacle and a gory philosophical treatise on humanity’s nebulous and threatening relationship with nature. Restless audiences may quibble with the pacing and length, but fans of bombastic visual sequences and discomforting violence will find plenty to like.

A revelatory burst of Black history suffused with the joy and struggle that made it possible.

Despite a striking production design and the strong performance by lead actress Niamh Algar, the narrative familiarity of the second half and restrained climax let the film down.

It’s a miserable experience — a dull, dated copy of something we’ve seen before — and takes way too long to ever get moving. (It never really does.) In the end, an unimaginative script and underutilized actors make The Little Things as trivial as the title implies.

Told mostly in shadows, this is a story of broken trust and haunting guilt. Ahari uses one of the genre’s oldest tropes to remind us that it’s in confronting our demons that we gain the power to overcome them.

Ramin Bahrani’s The White Tiger thrives with terrific performances, compelling characters, and a biting sense of identity that hits the thematic nail on the head. Though the poor pacing strains its true potency, the film’s striking visuals and sharp direction bolster the impact significantly, resulting in an artfully-crafted tale of ambition and greed.

MLK/FBI justifies itself as a compelling addendum to King’s legacy, not simply as a heart-rending unveiling of past tragedy and maliciously tarnished greatness.

A touching film that perhaps spends a bit too much time digging in the wrong places.

If you’re looking for two hours of not-quite-escape, the solipsism of Locked Down has real charm and entertainment value, not least in its willingness to be a movie about adults — and for adults. If the specter of a global pandemic haunts the material more than it enriches, well, it’s not alone, is it?

The messy plot will lose some, and others will find its over-saccharine emotions a reach, but to paraphrase Steve’s description of flight: If you can catch the movie’s uplifting wind, it will transcend the sum of its parts.

In a word, Another Round is intoxicating. Vinterberg elevates what could have been a mope-fest with a magnificently defiant tone and a powerhouse performance from Mikkelsen.

Education is a tinier, more intimate button on McQueen’s set of stories, but it’s one of its most potent: the simple act of learning is powerful actualization, so proven in the white establishment’s efforts to make it so inaccessible to Black people.

As the world continues to mourn the loss of Chadwick Boseman, his last performance will serve as a magnificent reminder of the actor’s talent, and an exclamation point on a life that inspired a generation.

Through a distinct sense of style and riveting performances, Fennell’s debut is as bold as it is self-assured. Promising Young Woman eschews the familiar rape-revenge formula and injects a subversive female gaze, yet doesn’t cover any new ground that hasn’t been touched on already.

The originality of vision remains strong with Pete Docter and his cohorts. But beyond strange new concepts, they need to dig deeper for more truly unexpected characters.

Adam Mason’s Songbird is about boring people getting mad that they’re stuck inside, and the government is oppressing them, and they’ll soon fly free or whatever.

News of the World is a perfectly solid, decent entry into the burgeoning sub-genre of Tom Hanks Doing Dad Stuff movies. It’s well-made, direct, and unfussy in its storytelling.

Fittingly, The Midnight Sky suffers from the same weightlessness as its astronauts — Clooney opens his big, wet soulful eyes, and Alexandre Desplat‘s overly-aggressive score lays on the emotion as thick as syrup, but none of it lands.

It’s a movie made on the fly, and for better or worse, you can tell.

You may not come away feeling like you know much about Wheatle himself, but you get to spend an hour in his shoes.

With a jukebox parade that will invite viewers to inevitably sing-along to classic earworms, How Can You Mend a Broken Heart is the Bee Gees documentary you’ve been waiting for. It’s a fitting tribute to their unending love for each other.

Anyone looking to have their mind changed by this new cut … probably won’t. Anyone who hates The Godfather Part III is still going to hate The Godfather Part III, and anyone who loves The Godfather Part III will probably love it even more after seeing the coda. Alas, it’s still The Godfather Part III and that’s just fine with me.

The Prom would be glitzy, high energy, and for the most part, harmless — if not for James Corden’s laughably cliched performance, and the film’s inability to figure out which narrative should take priority.

I saw this movie last Wednesday, and I still feel like I’m watching it, like its dry and stuttering dynamic hasn’t yet ended, like I’ll never hear a real Bowie song again. Someone commit me before I’m forced to don my famous alter ego, Lights Camera Jackson, to cope with my insanity.

It’s hard not to think of The Christmas Chronicles series as a series of wasted opportunities. Kurt Russell as Santa Claus, with Goldie Hawn his doting wife, is such an inspired casting choice that it’s a real bummer to see them do so little with it.

Though this film is more complicated than the now-standard holiday fare you could find on Hallmark or Netflix, Happiest Season is also charming, more intelligent than the average romantic comedy, and bolstered by an excellent lead performance.

Sound of Metal is a film about loss and grief, and what we do with ourselves when our lives change irrevocably.

With a spooky atmosphere, retro feel, and a creepy performance from a horror legend, The Mortuary Collection is a perfect movie for stormy nights at home and best enjoyed over a big bowl of buttery popcorn.

Hillbilly Elegy does not bring out the best in its cast, and Howard fails to bring the intensity or depth that might make something meaningful. His approach is all after-school special, all the time.

Another lump of coal in Gibson’s rapidly declining filmography. Fatman has no gifts to speak of. It’s kind of cheap. It’s fairly cynical and/or mean-spirited. It’s not fun. No good. Lumpy in execution. Deeply archaic in its thinking. Ho ho ho-hum.

Mank‘s definitely a film-tailor made for cinephiles; it’s a dense, complicated work with a screenplay as labyrinthine and mired in inside baseball as Kane‘s. But as a stylistic exercise and a work of craft, it’s one of Fincher’s most exciting in years. There’s hardly a false note in the cast, the costumes, the production design, or the score. And the Wellesian flourishes are an interesting stylistic move for a filmmaker usually known for his cold, crisp exactitude.

It’s a love letter to the genre without ever aping or mimicking it. With an incredible supporting cast and two engaging leads, it’s an out and out blast that finds Landon inching closer and closer to slasher masters like Craven and Carpenter.

It’s a visceral piece of horror that’s as bleak as it is beautiful.

Ultimately, what takes Bruce Springsteen’s Letter to You from bonus-material curio to required viewing is the opportunity it gives Springsteen to make a capstone argument for his continued artistic drive.

Legacy wears its heart on its sleeve and you can feel the love for the source material. There’s an endearing and timely focus on building community, which is foundational to real witchcraft, and the message that our differences are what make us strong is one worth repeating at every opportunity. Unfortunately, there are key ingredients missing in the cauldron, and the film feels stilted by its narrative arc.

Cohen still has it in fits and starts. That “pedo radar” from Who Is America really ruffled feathers. He’s a performer of chameleonic qualities; see his immersive, anarchic turn in The Trial of the Chicago 7 for a nice contrast. But applying his talents to a sporadically funny, 90-minute SNL political cold open of a film is a little bit of a bummer.

Snow Hollow is a fun variation on the werewolf film that gets by with enough chuckles and blood.

Synchronic splices together science fiction, heart, and humor to create one hell of a potion, one you’re going to soak up as soon as possible.

Rebecca is a psychologically rich story with so much to pick at and probe. That means decisions need to be made on where to focus, and Wheatley bats about .500 in that respect.

There are just enough goodies here for parents and well-prepared kiddies alike. The nifty VFX, performances, and modern updates are what make this remake an easy-enough treat.

French Exit is sure to divide — it’s got great performances and a confidence in its atmosphere that the gods could envy. The struggle, then, is whether you’re prepared for the sheer amount of deliberate aimlessness Jacobs and deWitt are willing to throw at you.

Unfortunately, The Reckoning is the biggest whiff in Marshall’s filmography. At its best, it delivers moments of optic greatness (a lightning strike-illuminating barn scene stands out), but most of the film is bleak and droll, full of a muddled script and lackluster performances.

Here’s a cocktail so potent that it may just snap even the most tired and cynical viewers out of apathy.

Compared to a lot of other Adam Sandler movies, Hubie Halloween is watchable without being actually very good.

Tonally, McQueen and co-writer Courttia Newland’s screenplay flits capably between character study, issue film, and cop drama so seamlessly you’ll barely notice it’s changed gears, and at eighty minutes there’s not an ounce of fat on it.

Coppola sends us on a light, frothy father/daughter adventure, to be sure, but one suffused with the tiny tragedies of misogyny, and the excuses men make for their selfish behavior. Even the sweetest dishes need a little salt to bring out its complexities, and On the Rocks is no exception.

Despite Sorkin’s significant shortcomings as a director, The Trial of the Chicago 7 hums along mightily on the strength of its god-tier ensemble and whip-smart script. There’s hardly a false note in the cast, all of them capably handling Sorkin’s overlapping, erudite dialogue with aplomb, and many of the big moments land with a splash.

Mangrove elevates the oft-creaky genre of the courtroom drama with striking, evocative compositions, stunning performances, and a real sense of place.

Millie Bobby Brown is captivating as the quirky Enola, a confident, young woman raised outside the patriarchy by her feminist mother. Brown dives headfirst into the role, and her bubbly charisma is a dynamic change from the quiet strength of Stranger Things’ Eleven.

Alone is exactly what it sells — a taut, hot-wired survival thriller. With its gaunt storytelling, meaty characters, and high-stakes action, the film delivers on all fronts.

McQueen’s focus is on the community, not the individual; his focus is on the party as a whole and the optimism and community it engenders. Films about the unabashed celebration of Black joy and success are few and far between, which makes Lovers Rock all the more remarkable.

Despite great direction by Mortensen, who also delivers a strong performance alongside Henriksen and (briefly) Linney, Falling is a repetitive and exhausting exercise that never gets around to unpacking why the audience should care about its ailing patriarch character. It’s too long and too one note for too little pay-off.

Antebellum makes every moment meaningful or teachable. And under the strain of making its many, many points, Antebellum forgets to be a good movie, which is ultimately what draws audiences in and allows them to connect the dots for themselves.

Regina King’s directorial debut is a quiet and contemplative film, filled with powerful mediations on race, responsibility, and revolution that are both timely and entertaining

Pieces of a Woman offers a superb performance by Vanessa Kirby, and the most unnerving opening of any film in 2020, but the familiar examination of marital disintegration struggles to sustain interest or justify its lengthy runtime.

Nomadland is a gorgeous, lyrical film featuring another standout lead performance by Frances McDormand. Chloé Zhao’s latest is a testament to the beauty of the American Midwest and the value of living an unorthodox life.

It’s a shame to see a movie this ambitious and well-cast turn out so wobbly, but The Devil All the Time inevitably sinks under the weight of its self-importance.

It is as much a celebration of song and contemporary dance as it is a call to action about the need to embrace our humanity and connect with others. Quite simply: it’s a joy.

This strange and anxious mixture of the Working Women comedies of yesteryear (think: 9 to 5, Baby Boom, and Working Girl) with the cramped hospital horror shows of our Saturday night sleepovers (recall: Visiting Hours, Halloween II, and Dream Warriors) is always compelling, always nerve-wracking, mostly funny, and agreeably gross.

Unlike other Disney remakes, the issue with Mulan isn’t that it hews to the formula too closely; it’s that when this movie veers away from that formula, it tries to be something approaching a Marvel movie, and that’s one crossover we still don’t need.

As expected, the real flexes come from the four principal stars. Winter seamlessly slides back into his flannel as Bill, wisely dialing things down to address the years. However, Reeves dials it down too much, coming off as nearly geriatric as he shuffles around as his buddy Ted.

Even two viewings in, I’m struck by the density of the work itself, its feelings on death and aging and the past shifting with every line of dialogue or idiosyncratic image.