Knocking is an uneven film. Despite strong direction by Kempff in her feature debut and a daring, go-for-broke performance by lead actress Milocco, there’s just not enough weight in these hollow knocks and the payoff doesn’t feel earned or substantial enough.

The performances are strong, and the film excels in isolated setpieces. It’s just a shame to see a neat idea largely go to waste.

Opinions can range about whether Aster effectively captured this moment in time, or if this movie would have been more relevant if it had come out a few years earlier, when these memories were even fresher in our heads. But what feels both more important and undeniable is the intentionality with which he takes on this era, in all its ugliness.

It’s a sparse film, to be sure, but one authentic to the time in which it takes place, even if that authenticity reads in a significantly different light in our own time.

Sharper is an incredibly entertaining entry into the canon of Apple Originals. While it might not have the threshold of darkness or intensity that classify it exactly as a neo-noir, this film is a thoroughly enjoyable mystery. While these characters here might be lying and cheating their way to victory, Sharper comes out on top on its own merits.

Johnson never fully disappears into the role, but were he to do so, it might almost diminish his performance — one which never distracts from the narrative, but keeps present the awareness that Johnson is really going through it here. If he made it look easy, it somehow wouldn’t be quite as impressive.

Calling First Steps the best Fantastic Four movie yet is accurate and also easy, thanks to the low-budget hilarity of 1994's Roger Corman-produced effort, the two lackluster (and blatantly sexist) 2000s movies, and Josh Trank's 2015 disaster. Yet just on its own merits, it's a solid comic book adventure that's not embarrassed by being a comic book adventure — in fact it finds real power in its love for its roots.

As both an utterly mad true story and as a document of the boundless reach of the cinema across borders and cultures and even ideologies, The Lovers and the Despot is wild, valuable viewing for all.

Romulus feel torn between Alvarez’s desire to tell a new story in the Alien universe and 20th Century Studios’ desire for a fan-servicey thrill ride.The frustrating thing about it is that, moment to moment, it very much works.

Gretel & Hansel updates a classic fairy tale with impressive results. It’s a gorgeous and moody film that trusts the intelligence of its audience.

Goat deals with masculinity, fraternities, and PTSD in equal doses, covering all of them with brutal precision and most importantly, success.

MaXXXine can’t decide whether to be a showbiz parody or a giallo sendup or a cute ’80s throwback, and it stumbles when it tries to be all of the above.

The film is less effective, unfortunately, at trusting its audience to remain invested in Cedar Creek’s drama, which results in two grating subplots that become the A-plot in the draggy third act.

There are touches of the freshness that percolated through Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok, two films that brought new points of view, loads of promise, and no small amount of political and social resonance to the MCU, but only a little of the sense of newness and boldness that Ryan Coogler and Taika Waititi’s films had in abundance.

With its lived-in charm, snappy dialogue, and Hamm’s star appeal, Confess, Fletch has all the ingredients to be a sneaky success.

It’s intelligent, frequently resonant, and even wryly funny at points in its own weary way. This is sci-fi which trusts its audience to fill in the blanks and do just a little bit of the heavy lifting, and it’s better off for it.

Vibes can only take you so far, and Southern and Lovelace’s dreamlike approach keeps us from having a firm grip on the chronology of the times. It also feels like an incomplete chronicling of its subject, given its narrow focus on a few bands and the lack of participation of key figures.

While the charm of Always Be My Maybe can and should be attributed to its performers, there’s a real sweetness in its reframing of the romantic comedy as the struggle of two people who already have fulfilling lives, attempting to add to them by rediscovering lost pieces of themselves in each other.

Bombshell is at its best when it’s an amusing behind-the-scenes look at Fox News and how the entire operation is setup to enrage your parents. But the film’s at its worst when it’s trying to tell a story of empowering women via problematic real-life figures.

By the time we finally do get to the blood and guts, the filmmakers have laid such an artful foundation that the viscera is just another part of Suspiria‘s hypnotic modern dance.

Frenzied, kinetic filmmaking is hit or miss, but The Daniels are showcasing their talents as opposed to showing off.

XX is a horror anthology more admirable for its intent and concept than for its execution.

Clever mythos and well-crafted chills with an expertly-paced narrative makes for a deliciously entertaining, late summer crowd pleaser.

Unlike in some of the filmmaker’s past work, however, Youth foregrounds the performance over the spectacle; Keitel turns in some of his finest work in years as the aging, fiery Mick, and Caine delivers a performance composed of untold multitudes.

Born to Be Blue serves as an honest and heartfelt ode to not only Chet Baker, but those who revel in the occasional highs and neverending lows that overwhelm the pursuit of art.

Luhrmann and Butler have made a compelling and at times wildly entertaining portrait of Elvis Presley — no thanks to Hanks.

Holy Hell ropes us in with tales of delusion before chilling us with tales of terror.

Besides the gags, there’s little to grasp onto, and try as it might to echo Barry Lyndon’s naturally-lit tableaus, Scott’s film lacks that film’s acid-dry wit.

Payne’s heart might have been in the right place with this one, but the execution feels flippant at best.

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.

In fits and starts, the film matches the fire of its lead performance. Miles Ahead is far from a traditional, boilerplate music biopic, for better and worse alike.

Miss Sloane is a smart, thorough film about a rare subject that is also as breathless, broad, and crowd-pleasing as your standard Grisham thriller.

It’s a very good op-ed in favor of America’s ability to live up to its potential and build itself into a country that actually represents the idea of liberty and equality that it’s espoused for so long. Thanks to the humor with which it’s presented, it’s also a pretty decent testament to the potential future of the country’s satire.

Patton tells a tighter, less well-heard, and necessary tale of being gay in an era where that could still destroy a career (which to be frank, is still an issue that should be better addressed…), nestled carefully within a re-read of an oft-maligned horror sequel. He’s a deeply appealing subject.

A space adventure that is alternately funny and upsetting, featuring a literal menagerie of the strange and unconventional.

As a Big Message movie about the racism inherent in the criminal justice system, Crown Heights succeeds admirably enough. As an effective drama, however, the film is frustrating in its unwillingness to engage with its characters beyond its broader strokes.

Like any good what-if story, I Am Mother is uncomfortably close to asking “What now?”

Becoming Led Zeppelin is a fascinating look at the creation of one of the greatest rock acts to ever exist. Led Zeppelin were truly a band where each of the four members played a vital part in its success, and that’s on full display throughout the film.

The Beach House won’t be for everyone. Those coming in expecting a doozy of infections and balls-to-the-wall, gross-out horror will likely leave nursing a sunburn. But if you can appreciate those moments within what’s essentially a pandemic survival story, then you’ll walk away with a nice tan.

Skin certainly has its blemishes, but it’s occasionally excited and secure in its willingness to build an off-the-cuff alt history for an under-discussed facet of filmmaking.

The strengths of the series are the strengths of the film. It looks great. It sounds great. If it could, it certainly would smell great (like rain, Earl Grey, green grass, and freshly baked bread.) And above all, it’s beautifully acted by a cast able to land both the punchlines and the punches.

All of Ridley Scott's glorious pageantry is undercut by a script tragically burdened by cliches and characters who make stupid choices.

Moshe’s approach turns the Western genre on its head by having the sidekick rise up as the hero.

As these things go, two out of three ain’t bad, and it’s nice to see Lanthimos back in the saddle as one of our foremost mainstream explorers of abuse and malaise.

The joy of Ready Player One does indeed come from its world-building and kaleidoscopic mashup of pop culture—what Spielberg would likely dub its “movie” elements.... At a certain point, though, Ready Player One wants to be appreciated as a film as well as a movie, no matter what Spielberg says. And that’s where it begins to falter.

While the cabin seemingly offers a rural respite, the endless snow and the situational horror of it all adds agoraphobic washes to any space. Couple that with captivating uses of grey and silver — seriously, the gradient factor in those two colors here is awe-inspiring by itself — and the dread becomes suffocating.

a great deal of Café Society is shaggy and unfocused, it’s at least pleasing in its shapelessness. Café Society is not quite one of Woody Allen’s best, but it’s good enough to make you hope that he never leaves old Hollywood. The era suits him.

Greyhound is the bare essentials when it comes to war films. With little character development on paper, the narrative finds victory through Hanks’ patient physical performance and the craftsmanship within the battles.

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.

There’s a rich, hilarious novelty to the film’s juxtaposition of glittering pop and ultraviolence, but by virtue of the clear disconnect between story and song, that novelty quickly wears thin.

As pretty as The Creator looks, and however well-considered its world may be, it feels like all sizzle and no steak. AI is an extremely prevalent issue facing us in the real world, but Edwards seems disinterested in exploring beyond its aesthetic surface (e.g. borrowing real people’s voices and likenesses in perpetuity) in favor of a warmed-over critique of American imperialism in the global East.

Z provides effective scares and at least one moment that made this parent scream in horror. It’s doing so many of the right things, but like a puzzle with a few pieces missing, it’s hard to see the full picture.

The problem is that something never adds up to much of anything. Even thematically, the whole picture feels all over the place, oscillating hazily between half-baked meditations on man vs. nature and unfinished portraits of family values. Even so, Saulnier’s scope and visual endurance is admirable, to say the least, and it’s clear that he could do something this brazen eventually with a much stronger script.

While not bursting with ambition or any interest in deviating from proven formula, A New Era does exactly what you hope it would do, and give series fans a little more time with beloved characters, even daring to alter the status quo in one or two major ways.

Throughout Piercing, it’s never clear who’s getting played, at least except for the audience. Those with the stomach for what Pesce and his stars have to offer will likely give over to the rush of it, as the film plays fast and loose with expectations at every turn.

When you’re not shaking your head at Theron’s glass-crunching gymnastics, you’re probably soaking up Leitch’s emerald-lensed atmospheres, Luhrmann-esque set pieces, and the sensual lighting that could give Nicolas Winding Refn a seizure or two. That’s all without saying a single thing about its fabulous soundtrack.

Though it doesn’t end with quite the punctuation it deserves, The Eyes of My Mother is a beautiful nightmare from start to finish.

It’s not up there with [Shyamalan's] best, but it’s a solid thriller that traps you in the middle of an impossible question and leaves you, like its characters, to figure out the answer.

It’s not exactly the repeat masterpiece of yesteryear, but that was never going to happen. Instead, it’s a proper and agreeable reunion for fans who grew up, but still have that hungry desire to toss aside reality and enjoy a little unadulterated fun.

A lot of people are going to judge the film based on its success as a horror movie, and others will judge it as a political statement. Not that I think there’s a deficiency in any part of its personality, but I also think the panache with which it is both of those things and more — without looking to the history of genre or the future of civil rights for permission to say some pretty bold stuff — is why the film is a success.

Narratively, the Zellners are always looking to zag, and while that leads to some surprising passages, not all of them are safe. Instead, they often spill into dead ends, forcing them to backtrack and carry on elsewhere.

Edgerton isn’t as electric as Hawke or Isaac, and the passion-play dramaturgy strains. But as he allows himself to drift from self-torture, Schrader finds some new, compellingly strange ways to tend this well-worn soil.

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.

Despite the occasional tonal hiccup, so much of Unsane feels fresh and new, using bold formal techniques to spice up a complex throwback to B-movies of the past.

To make a great romantic comedy, you need a few key components. Stylish direction. Winning lead actors. Likable, lived-in characters. And some kind of unique angle on the well-trod genre at hand. Someone Great offers all of that and more, but it also proves that one of the most important and least appreciated aspects of a successful rom-com is a great script.

Though it often feels like the safest, most predictable version of the film we could’ve gotten, Stowaway is a tense, chilling space thriller that coasts to victory on the strength of its premise and the believability of its cast.

Shyamalan ingeniously places his leading man front and center, where McAvoy amuses and horrifies as the cliché plot points sometimes stumble.

Free Fire might be a trifle of a quippy, feature-length shootout, but it’s the best damned trifle of a quippy, feature-length shootout you’ll ever see.

Keanu gets a lot of things right, and almost just as many things wrong. Still, there’s absolutely enough here to make it worthwhile, especially if you’re a Key and Peele fan.

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.

It’s a huge, huge swing, and Aster skeptics will likely scoff at the egotism of it all. But for those of us who’ve been at the receiving end of a classic Jewish-mother guilt trip, Beau is Afraid will serve as affirmation, cinematic therapy, and the most relatably terrifying thing they’ve ever seen.

Venice, if nothing else, is a pleasant reminder that stories can be spooky without aiming for hard scares. Sometimes, the vibes of Halloween can feel like an all-or-nothing proposition, but for us scaredycats, sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy autumnal vibes with just a hint of terror in the air, like the first whiff of wood smoke while walking through your hometown on a brisk October day.

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.

As any good therapist will tell you, you can't embrace the future without coming to terms with your past. Resurrections is very, very conscious of this.

Turns out crafting a happy ending out of today's publishing apocalypse is tougher than staying upright on five-inch heels.

Whether we follow Han Solo through hyperspace for more adventures is up to Disney, but what we got here is enough to keep us coming back again and again...That’s the best kind of Star Wars movie.

Nagy puts an identifiable human face on the women who need abortions, and all the different reasons they can arrive at that decision. And Banks capably leads a stellar ensemble that elevates the sometimes clumsy screenplay.

The results are deliciously off-kilter, even if the sci-fi world Stearns has created is somewhat clumsily reverse-engineered to make his central premise possible.

Amid Hammel’s acid-tongued approach and jaundiced eye, there’s a lot of intriguing potential; after all, cinema that imperfectly confronts is oftentimes more interesting than comfortable competence.

The film delivers a central philosophy about love (you like people because of their good qualities, but you love them despite their flaws) and features plenty of earnest self-actualizing, but it’s first and foremost here to provide a funny, breezy update on a familiar rom-com formula. Unlike its lost twenty-something leads, Set It Up knows just what it wants to be

Carell, Chalamet and their supporting players can only spit-shine a relatively rote addiction story so much; by the time the thrill of their work passes, it’s easy to find oneself waiting for more.

The original cast brings plenty of spark, with Ryder ably carrying the film’s emotional arc and Keaton glorying in getting to be this goofy.

Perhaps the most satisfying thing about the film is what comes after, when you stop to realize how darkly comic and sickly fun the film was after you’re done reeling from all the impaling and dismemberment.

Despite Pazienza’s own pitfalls and perils, the film never registers as anything more than a boilerplate boxing drama, which is a shame because the material is all there, it’s just hamstrung by a flimsy screenplay that refuses to let its characters exist on their own.

If you’re looking for a heartwarming, affirming doc about how yes, you’re right to love Alanis Morissette, it’ll probably work for you. But don’t expect to learn anything new, or be wowed by its presentation.

It’s the awkward tween of gay coming-of-age movies: earnest and confident, but more than a little clumsy.

But there’s something surprising about its approach to both blockbuster filmmaking and Ryan Reynolds star vehicles. It’s at once a Deadpool riff and the absolute opposite, a violent video game movie that’s about how fighting isn’t actually the answer. And what’s more, it commits to those lofty aspirations, couching a sweet little love story in the CG-addled mayhem of a Ryan Reynolds action-adventure flick.

Sandberg finds much of his terror in the tension that exists between light and shadow, an unsurprising discovery considering his previous film hinged on the two. They’re used much more effectively here, however.

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.

Writer/director Josh Baena (Life After Beth) bookends Joshy with dark moments, and while the first works perfectly, the second threatens to unravel everything that comes before.

The King is perfectly alright if you’re looking for a large-scale epic with dozens of extras and fine performances.

Between its structure, its worldview, and its anti-heroine, Destroyer is almost impossible to ignore. Love it or hate it, it will still leave an impression and it will undoubtedly inspire discussion.

Franco exercises so much restraint, especially during the frenetic final act, that you’re always left on edge. There’s hardly a single gratuitous shot to the entire film.

Calibrating a horror-comedy requires intense precision, since the director has to keep the tension alive while also bringing in just the right level of over-the-top gore and mayhem to inspire laughs, not screams. I’d estimate that a good 95% of The Monkey is totally dialed in, especially when it comes to finding a level of gore that plays as hilariously disturbing.

This is punishing filmmaking, both in its sense of overwhelming despair and in its all-too-physical violence, but what sets Apostle apart from being an especially well-shot exploitation feature is its interest in the ideals behind the violence we perform on one another.

To be clear, Dragon is not the worst live-action remake this year — congrats to Snow White on holding onto that prize. It’s just a slightly distorted copy of what came before. Its best attributes are fully a credit to the original, while its worst qualities all come from the foolishness of adapting a movie that was just fine the way it was.

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.

The heart is ultimately stirred, and the eyes often pleased, by this new White Fang.