Still, as giant shark movies go, it’s a far more coherent entry in the genre than others, with effects work that’s several notches above the rest.

IO is dull, it drags, and it’ll beg the question: When will this, all of this, be over?

Marwen is too much, not enough, and yet still deeply watchable. It’s admirable for the wildly different approaches it takes. Only a stylist like Zemeckis could try something like this. Take a real man’s witty, real-life therapy-based photography and attempt to spin it into a mo-cap circus with every genre tool he can think of.

What really hurts the film is its messy screenplay and boilerplate direction.

While the script is fundamentally flawed, the direction doesn’t help. Young, who previously helmed the brutal 2016 indie Hounds of Love, feels out of his element in the sci-fi action realm.

To his credit, Green makes great use of wide-angle photography so the action feels comprehensible, with surprisingly long shots and effective editing. It’s just a shame the director’s talents are wasted on this brand-stamped mess.

Pitch Perfect 3 is hardly a perfect movie, but seeing these women singing and having fun on screen together for the final time is frequently a lot of fun.

Of course, there are still product placements, and lowbrow jokes, but there’s an empathetic streak in Sandy Wexler. And that’s something we haven’t seen from Sandler in a long time.

Even the most grounded of James Bond movies has a certain level of goofy fun baked in; it’s inherent to the genre. And if The 355 had been a bit more conscious of this, it might have been a far more successful movie.

Spiral is a frustrating animal: In its first half, it styles itself as a prestige sequel/revamp of a cult horror series, lifting it from its nu-metal origins into a moodier, Se7en-styled police thriller. But despite its promising start, the latter half of Spiral succumbs to formula, like a bloodied Jigsaw victim fainting from their wounds so the blades can finish the job.

By now, you likely already know whether or not Jigsaw is for you. The series is nothing if not consistent, but the diminishing returns that led to its near-decade hiatus only continue here.

For a film that looks this wacky, it’s a shame that The Nutcracker and the Four Realms is ultimately pretty boring.

Whatever this film’s intentions may have been, and perhaps they were wholly noble, one thing is abundantly clear: Smokey and the Bandit is still, and without much competition, cinema’s greatest beer run. And that movie managed to deliver a whole truckload of beer without doing any disservice to the Vietnam War.

The chief appeal of Gans’ Beauty and the Beast is its sumptuous, ornate production and costume design, and the flamboyant glee with which Gans’ camera captures it all.

There’s no voice, no style, and no real intrigue on hand. It’s all a slow sail to the next outsized setpiece.

This is a movie terrified to explore the interiority of its protagonist, and that approach will work just fine for the fans who just want to watch an uncomplicated ramble of a movie that plays all the hits.

In an age where “so bad it’s good” has lost much of its meaning in a sea of calculated camp, The Intruder may be one of the few films of recent vintage that truly qualifies.

There’s agony in the margins of every frame, but it remains muted beneath so many layers of color and so many hands drifting across surfaces.

Don Verdean is the sort of comedy which presumes its own hilarity long before it gets around to telling any actual jokes, or staging anything that might otherwise be considered funny.

Its lack of energy, depth, and pure volume are, at the movie’s best, sanitized. Despite the long wait, The Dirt is nothing more than karaöke Crüe.

A perversely fascinating mess from start to finish, Mile 22 is Berg’s most baffling attempt yet to make art out of the most virulent post-9/11 fears about terrorism and international espionage.

A tonal miss and technical meh, Gemini Man arrives looking and feeling self-defeated.

Mechanic: Resurrection plays in an uncommonly generic key, and the film only makes intermittent attempts to enliven the proceedings.

Sure, it’s a thrilling ride, but it’s also as memorable as a 75-second roller coaster.

All Eyez on Me is the opposite of an ideal biopic.

Truly, Flight Risk has its funny moments, though none of them are funnier than when the end credits start and you’re reminded, once again, that this movie was directed by Mel Gibson.

Everything’s so achingly foul and with zero finesse, which makes for an awful, joyless experience.

Kinda Pregnant is a relatively painless, if predictable, diversion.