For a first-time feature, Hall’s approach to the material is surprisingly nuanced and sensitive. There’s a matter-of-factness to his presentation of these characters’ respective dramas that feels honest and true, if a little unencumbered by formal ambition.

Ambulance tightens the story’s frequent ridiculousness into genuine tension; it’s just retro enough to feel like an old-fashioned thriller done up with some newfangled tech that doesn’t choke the images with overly obvious CG.

The problem is that, unlike The Big Short, he can’t seem to wrestle with the drama, and when Vice takes a more dramatic turn towards its manic third act, McKay’s preaching winds up feeling like Oliver Stone, Jr. All of those meta, tongue-in-cheek quirks start becoming self righteous and smug when they used to be clever and decisive. It’s a damn shame

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.

It’s a feel-good film that honestly feels good, and even when it rings a bit hollow, it doesn’t stay that way for long.

Chevalier‘s reliance on biopic tropes does it no favors, and the lighting and set design are pretty drab in comparison to the excellent costumes. However, it is also bolstered by the incredible performances of Harrison and Adékoluẹjo, the smart screenplay by Robinson, and Williams’ direction, especially in the opening and ending sequence.

Think of Timmy Failure like a food truck: the best ones do one or two things really well, and commit to just doing those things. With McCarthy et al., Timmy Failure‘s virtues are an expertly-delivered dry wit that works for kids and adults alike, and a series of adorable performances, from Fegley and the rest of the kids to the all-too-game adults.

Anyone who has a heart for 1960s London and its cultural output will find something to appreciate in this sleek and stylish love letter to the era. Anyone who likes either of the types of films that Last Night in Soho is trying to be will probably find something worth watching in it, too. Few will get any proper satisfaction from it, though.

What makes A Prayer Before Dawn so powerful is also what makes it so punishing.

Aquaman is a pure piece of bright, ridiculous spectacle, hammering its Saturday morning cartoon sensibilities down its audience’s throat with a huge, cheesy grin on its face.

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.

Army of One recounts Faulkner, through Quixotan whimsy and geo-political smart aleck humor, which amounts to a quick screwball comedy about a loveable fuckup.

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 intangibility of Jamojaya‘s storytelling is both a blessing and a curse: it keeps things streamlined, but also prevents us from really being able to dig into just what makes James and Joyo tick. But that’s what’s so intriguing about the picture, even in its flaws.

Here’s a documentary with plenty of courage in its convictions, and a teachable exercise about modern health problems.

The resulting film is lacking in subtlety at times, but the world-building offered up some fascinating details, especially in a time when we’re seeing real-life human professions be reconsidered as potential tasks for artificial intelligence.

The Thanksgiving table is a perfect battleground for these heavily entrenched political lines, with Barinholtz’s smart, nuanced script pulling no punches. While the satire definitely loses some of its bite in its wild, unpredictable closer, the film still takes Barinholtz and Haddish to fascinating places as performers – neither of them have been as intense or vulnerable onscreen to date.

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

As a parade of exaggerated neon-soaked atrocities, Climax is certainly never boring, but it often strains credulity where it aims to provoke genuine discomfort. It exhausts where it should provoke.

It’s better than it could be, but it could have been great.

As a mood piece and character portrait, 6 Balloons is a strong debut for Ryan. But though it doesn’t overstay its welcome, by the time the credits roll, 6 Balloons feels like it still has more to say.

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.

It’s a provocation, and for the most part, it’s an effective one. Yet for a film all about verbal and physical blows, Bodied seems to grow skittish when it comes to landing the nastiest ones, the ones that would call its own ideals into question. It’s just insightful enough to leave audiences wishing that it were more so.

King Cobra is a movie that’s just good enough to make you wish it were even better.

This is precisely the type of movie we expect to see at the summer box office; an incessantly entertaining and dangerous adventure that will leave you breathless.

Its aesthetics alone are enough to sustain interest over its two-and-a-half hour runtime, but its hefty length also leaves a lot to be desired in its messaging, if only because Mitchell actually does begin to flirt with a grander purpose at a certain point in the film.

Unfortunately, The Spy Who Dumped Me struggles to tell a story as compelling as its two leads.

If you want to see a nuts-and-bolts look into the banality of evil, with a curiously strong Daniel Radcliffe performance at the center, Imperium fits the bill.

For what it’s worth, Chastain and Redmayne make for an interesting on-screen duo, with both award-winning actors inhabiting roles that service their talents nicely. But by keeping us emotionally at arm’s length, The Good Nurse doesn’t actualize its dramatic potential to the fullest degree, relying mainly on the power of its stars to carry the story instead of building a much more intricate, immersive story around them.

Fast X, when it comes to the stunts and cars, delivers to some degree, but definitely seems to be feeling the strain of striving for the next jaw-dropping moment, to the point where it all just blends together. Only thanks to Momoa does it feel at all memorable.

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.

As a narrative, Point Blank’s like a screenplay slammed to the ground, shot repeatedly, and re-assembled with scotch tape and vending machine stickers (likely White Snake band logo iron-ons). It’s flashy. As far as action flicks go, Point Blank’s cool with its low IQ because it’s having fun throwing ‘bows to loud music. It knows what it is.

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.

Vikander is a beautifully effective avatar for the American Ninja Warrior version of Lara Croft. Stripping down the bombast of the original games (and films) allows Uthaug’s reboot to feel comparatively grounded and immediate, without dragging itself down with unnecessary pathos.

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

It’s a mess, but a glorious one, the kind of ambitious, unapologetic project that’s most notable for its perspective.

An Ocean’s film should steal the breath from your body. Instead, it’ll draw some sighs, some smiles, and fervent hopes for a sequel more worthy of its cunning, charismatic thieves.

Drew Pearce‘s Hotel Artemis...falls victim to much of what ails any ensemble picture — rushed plotting, forced coincidence, indulgence — but still manages to make a big impression.

It’s the kind of new-macho action picture that wears its cornball heart on its sleeve — one where the misfit leads learning to work together is literally, mechanically, the way to defeat the bad guy. It may not have Dom and the gang, but Hobbs & Shaw is as self-indulgently silly and giddily earnest as its fellow Fast brethren.

It feels timely and relevant, and Eisenberg demonstrates clear aptitude both as writer and director. For as many questions as it raises, though, it’s a shame the movie itself isn’t quite sure how it wants them to be answered.

As a fish-out-of-water comedy, it’s effectively funny more often than it isn’t, and as an ode to the unlikely communities that arise around black metal, it’s entirely sincere in its intentions.

The most surprising thing about Bridget Jones’s Baby has nothing to do with the perennial singleton’s offspring or the tropes of romantic comedies. What’s surprising is that, despite all the contrivances and stale conventions, this movie’s not half bad, and occasionally better than that.

It’s brassy, breezy and gut-bustingly fun; unfortunately, it’s at the expense of the film’s drama and pathos.

While The Grinch never rises to the level of a modern Christmas classic, it’s an enjoyable enough holiday diversion with a core message that’s as lovely today as it was when Dr. Seuss first wrote it.

Despite failing to offer much in the way of freshness or originality, fans of the original will still find this new adventure a suitable companion piece. If nothing else, Double Tap should help to raise the public awareness of Zoey Deutch’s greatness, which is reason enough for the film’s existence.

If anything, it’s nice to see Sandler doing something he loves in an environment he’s comfortable in and do it with such sincerity. But hopefully in his next dramatic venture, he’ll go for a three-pointer instead of a lay-up.

Affleck knows how to tell a compelling story on screen, and Air does succeed in making the particulars of this deal feel intriguing; it’s a classic underdog tale at its core, and watching this one major contract come together is exciting in the moment.

For as choppy as Sirens can be in its too-short 78-minute runtime, it’s easy to chalk that up to the difficulties of filming during COVID. But what we do get is certainly crowd-pleasing, a riotous doc that combines likable personalities with thrumming guitar licks and its subjects’ relatable yearning to find their voice and their power.

Metal Lords, though it hits some nice high notes, never quite grabs you like the best coming-of-age movies thanks to Peter Sollett’s flat, uninspired direction.

Ánimas packs a lot into its 90 minutes, and occasionally suffers for it. There’s a dourness to the movie, a self-seriousness that won’t make it anyone’s favorite escapist flick. But while it wears its themes on its sleeve, they remain undoubtedly striking and thought-provoking, especially in an age where the issue of mental illness is being discussed on a global scale.

Fey delivers the performance like the super-capable talent she is, with range and authenticity. She’s a character with a fully expressed arc, foibles and all. She’s the dramedy’s best weapon.

It all gets a bit too loosey-goosey by its repetitive, redundant climax — there just aren’t enough good jokes left to cover for the fact that, yes, we get it, the bear did cocaine.

Whether the result of the film’s brisk 90-minute runtime, or a lack of desire to investigate some of its subject’s greater desires and fears, Love, Gilda feels breezy to a fault.

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.

Life on the Road ultimately makes good in a way that few comedy films based on television characters do. Perhaps part of that owes to Gervais’ not-so-subtle, yet still powerful, insights into David Brent.

While there’s something to Ingrid Goes West and its indictment of insufferable L.A. millennial culture and social media’s dangers, Spicer’s targets are too bluntly specific to make the sort of nuanced argument that the film aims to attempt.

The Finest Hours is exactly that. Fine, while embracing its studio aesthetic and morally true heroism.

Wardle allows the details to roll out with impact, and even some insight. Curiosity for the grand genetic schemes is a great sell, but the human element, the lament for lost time, truth, and family? That sticks at the end.

Is it a ride that includes clear story structure, comprehensible stakes, or narrative momentum? Not really. Is it a ride featuring a lot of bright colors, familiar characters, and the occasional deranged moment? Absolutely.

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.

For all the unexpected charms of Emmett and Regan’s Last of Us-esque trek to salvation through an apocalyptic wasteland, Part II feels a bit more scattered and perfunctory than the first.

Race is a film best enjoyed for its mild ambitions and accomplishments, which easily beat out its missteps.

Simply put, Elle Fanning is Teen Spirit. This is a performance piece, nothing more and nothing less, and those invested in seeing Fanning soar in her career have every reason to watch.

Liman is no stranger to tense, effective thrillers – his last outing was the criminally undervalued Edge of Tomorrow – and on that level, The Wall surprisingly works.

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

It succeeds as a minor work from Jody Hill, which if nothing else is still good for more than a few laughs.

In this instance, the medium just doesn’t elevate the material. That said, Fences is still a gripping watch, but it’s gripping for the reasons the play has always been gripping: the language and performances.

The truth of the matter is that even a subpar Ryan Reynolds movie features a crap ton of Reynolds Reynolds-ing it up in every scene, and that can be a pretty enjoyable flavor of ice cream, in moderation. The problem is that like ice cream, there’s not much nutritional value here; there are far worse ways to spend 106 minutes of your life, but The Adam Project seems likely to fade from the memories of Netflix viewers relatively quickly — meaning it’s pretty in line with most of the Netflix original films that have come before it.

A subplot and a longer-than-necessary runtime threaten to undercut Hall’s performance, but in the end the movie succeeds as a solid investigation into the day-to-day life of one suffering from depression.

Don’t Think Twice is a brisk, engaging watch. It’s sweet, it’s melancholy, and, perhaps most importantly, it’s hilarious. And despite the film’s soft teeth, it’s still the most honest and unfiltered exploration of improv comedy you’re likely to find out of Hollywood.

Project Power is a hard-R action flick with a neat premise, inventively handled, and a winsome cast to coast us through the creakier bits of the screenplay. More crucially, it’s also got a sense of humor about itself.

47 Meters Down: Uncaged may be a bit slight in the script department and features some cartoonish aquatic beasts, but it delivers non-stop, anxiety-inducing terror once it reaches its halfway point.

The unbridled mess that is Aline is just off-kilter enough to warrant a look, no matter how well you know Céline Dion.

Just Mercy is incredibly effective at what it sets out to do: change hearts and minds about capital punishment, bring more awareness to the brutality of killing other human beings in the name of the law, and highlight the racism and other issues of structural inequality that lead to the high margin of error in death penalty convictions.

Ford v Ferrari is a classic Hollywood underdog film about friendship and overcoming obstacles. Mangold’s direction is serviceable, but unspectacular, while Bale is a dynamic presence.

While American Fable isn’t without its share of flaws, it’s the type of inventive production that hints of happier endings to come.

While the focus occasionally gets lost in the filmmaker’s personal inquisition, it remains a thought-provoking, challenging cap to Greenfield’s life-long body of work.

Given that The Salesman strives to be far more than a revenge thriller, Emad’s story isn’t enough to make it an unqualified triumph, but it’s still a genuinely good film, and worth watching.

While there are no chapter breaks or anything to formally guide the audience in that way, Into the Inferno feels unusually episodic by Herzog’s typically cohesive standards.

Mortimer and Wilson fill their predecessors’ shoes well enough, though the overall presentation is perhaps less theatrically done compared to the expansive, storybook directing in the first two films. The most intriguing additions, however, arrive with this film’s enjoyable pair of guest stars: Olivia Colman and Antonio Banderas.

Sprawling and ambitious, flawed yet admirable, failure and success concurrently reside in every minute of Tenet. A technical feat but a narrative dud.

The Final Reckoning is a more successful movie than Dead Reckoning because while Dead Reckoning did have some set pieces that were genuinely fun (such as the car chase through Rome, or the final train sequence), Final Reckoning actually has an ending.

Fukunaga’s direction is crisp and assured, if occasionally languid, and the script creaks under the weight of its myriad responsibilities to both its star and franchise. But it hits where it counts, and sets up a new chapter for the saga, a blank slate upon which the creatives that come next can paint a new vision for 007.

While these are major hurdles to the film holding together as a consistent exploration of its subjects, On Body and Soul is still an intriguing, cerebral comeback for Enyedi.

Voyeur leaves its viewers with more questions about what happened in the Manor House and what it meant than they’ll have coming in. If that’s hardly the note of finality that many will want or expect, it’s the aspect of the film that perhaps feels the most authentic and honest.

Clemons’ performance is a subtle, warm wonder.

Scoff, roll your eyes, and shrug all you want, but the hyperbolic nature of The Hunt is all part of the fun, and whether you take this literally, or metaphorically, rhetorically, spiritually, whatever, it all boils down to a big ol’ sensationalized portrait of a very heated country.

Gimme Danger checks the usual rock doc boxes, but it succeeds because of its smashing subject matter. The Stooges may not be the greatest musical act in history, but they are one of the most lively subjects for a documentary.

As a political or journalistic statement, Richard Jewell does have the unfortunate tendency to come across like a rant. But that does not greatly detract from the film’s rich biography of Jewell: Here’s a man that was perhaps doomed to be part of an inquisition.

If you’re able to ignore the franchise’s 50-year history, you’re probably going to have a blast. After all, Scoob! is a fun, colorful, and funny movie that not only sends several great messages to younger viewers, but also proves to be highly entertaining for adults.

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.

In building worlds as detailed and vivid as he’s done here, Besson has essentially allowed the setting to do what’s typically reserved for characters and stakes, and that’s to make us care.

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

As the film reaches its conclusion, it seems that the finale needed a more complex foundation underneath the surface for its impact to fully resonate.

Creative Control ably captures the entitled narcissism of modern Brooklyn twentysomethings by way of a plausible near-future,

Where the narrative is sometimes slack, and the film’s larger purpose left to interpretation after a while, Landline’s great strength lies with its performances.

Strip away the pitch-perfect atmosphere and the genuinely unsettling climax, and his ideas feel shallower than they’ve ever been.

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.