When it comes down to it, Baywatch’s central sin is that it’s just…not funny.

Shyamalan comes off so smug by the end of this movie that it’s insufferable — and also kind of jarring. It’s as if he’s learned nothing from his past and still believes he’s pulling a quick one on his audience.

Geostorm finds itself in the curious position of simultaneously taking itself too seriously and not enough so. It’s a disaster movie far too ridiculous to generate any real gravitas, but it’s also just glum enough to suck any fun out of watching the beaches of Rio de Janeiro freeze over in an instant.

In adapting Death Note for a presumably American audience, Wingard loses the whole of its identity, and never finds a different one with which to replace it.

There is a tone of anger that sneaks out of the film in even its moments of levity.

Bohemian Rhapsody is another lame music biopic, and its failures ultimately lie in the poor creative choices, the gutless approaches to potentially explosive events in the life of this band. We’re not buying this new album. There’s no new material to be found in Bohemian Rhapsody.

For a film that hinges so much on the chemistry and charm of its two leads, it’s tough to recommend The Choice on even those grounds.

If Peppermint has one thing going for it, and it’s by and large the only one, it’s Garner.

This is another bad Perry film, but a curiously verbose one with jokes piled atop more jokes.

Every second grates and confuses in equal measure, with nary a thrill of inventive, exciting action filmmaking to break up the monotony.

There’s nothing particularly memorable about Robin Hood even when you’re laughing at it, and that may be one of the saddest fates a movie can meet.

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.

A sloppy, blinkered epilogue that wastes everyone's time.

Unfortunately, Game Over, Man! sacrifices all the brusque cleverness of their hit show for a warmed-over Die Hard parody that’s too self-indulgent to entertain anyone but the four goofballs who made it.

The film’s a fundamental fiasco of tone and timing.

Rings is too beholden with current trends to truly exploit the potential it displays in its early going.

The real horrors of campus assaults should be examined, and horror makes for a perfect vehicle for that discussion. Yet this remake’s ambitions are too lofty for its own good. The messaging forgoes finesse and grace in favor of blatant lecturing, cramming patriarchy, rape culture, toxic masculinity, and white male rage all in an unsatisfying Christmas horror package.

It would have been one thing to settle for vapid sentimentality, but what makes The Sea of Trees so galling, as it turns the afterlife into a game of riddles, is how manipulative it is.

Dull at best, damaging at worst, and not worth a moment of your time.

While Plummer tries his damnedest to anchor Remember in the high drama to which it aspires, Egoyan’s latest is best forgotten.

You’ll only lose 90 minutes of your life to this misbegotten mess.

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

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.

It’s vacuous, ugly, unfunny, and, somehow, not a satire. It might be the worst movie of the year.

Give or take one excellent joke about the practical applications of handcuffs — delivered with expert awkwardness by Dakota Johnson, who remains the only moderately charming element of the trilogy — the film is as devoid of wit as it is of subtlety, and that combined absence, courtesy of screenwriter Niall Leonard, leads to some of its biggest unintentional laughs.

While the flagrant product placement is dialed back (at least on Bay’s curve) and there’s mercifully 100% less discussion of sexual consent laws this time around, the latest outing suffers from arguably the most fatal flaw a movie about giant fighting robots can: it’s brutally and relentlessly boring from start to finish.

Zoolander No. 2 invokes that old Simpsons headline: “old man yells at modern culture.”

This film is all easy beats, predictive familiarities, and absolutely zero heart, soul, or silliness anywhere to be found.