At 100 minutes, with just enough digital chutzpah to keep everyone reasonably amused and never quite annoyed, Dolittle is tolerably fine.

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.

Rio, I Love You is worth a passing look for its pot of talent.

Dumb as hell, gory as can be, and reliant on the hilarious idea of Stallone traveling at the speed of sound to ambush a few dozen cartel soldiers.

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

Gods of Egypt is a dull, meandering, plastic mess of pre-2002 CGI and performances as flat as the green screens behind them.

When the film isn’t simply boring, it becomes unintentionally hilarious in its occasionally inept production.

When people talk about Hollywood movies feeling more and more like product, this is what they’re driving at.

The only subtlety to be found is in the performance of singer and actress Charlotte Gainsbourg, though it’s her co-star, Jim Carrey, who will be the subject of most of this strange, ugly film’s discussion. And why not? It’s a bizarre, fascinating turn for Carrey.

It is not a bad film because of its sincerity of intention. It’s a bad film because it manages to make that sincerity feel disingenuous as it goes on, more and more so with each passing scene.

The end result is a finished product which smacks of Universal optioning a hot Scandi novel, losing enthusiasm for it during development and production, and leaving audiences with the remaining carrots and coal.

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.

While Yoga Hosers continues Smith’s quest to push himself into increasingly strange and uncomfortable directions as a filmmaker, it’s either too derivative or too malformed to work the vast majority of the time.

The Do-Over isn’t Sandler at his best, but it’s also not quite as putrid as what we’ve come to expect from him lately.

There’s something particularly galling about the laziness of this one — its flimsy gestures toward topicality, the piecemeal nature of the whole thing — that makes its failures acutely horrifying.

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

Ultimately Fantasy Island’s four-for-the-price-of-one narrative and its excruciating hour-and-50-minute runtime doom it. The film is visually bland, lacks charismatic characters or interesting backstories, and long overstays its welcome with an egregiously protracted third act that feels interminable.

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.

If for one second you forget the diverging script, the weak direction, and Efron’s limitations, there’s something to be amused by with De Niro’s flagrantly foul-mouthed, horned-up grandfather figure.

Though Life Itself is neither good nor “so bad it’s good,” it’s also such a bizarre, inexplicable film that it’s almost worth seeking out just to experience it for yourself. For those who want to watch a worthwhile family melodrama, however, just stick with This Is Us.

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

Like the Hollywood it tries to lampoon, in its way, The Fanatic comes across as shallow. It is, as they say in the biz, a flop.

Whatever you think about Adam Sandler right now, The Ridiculous 6 won’t change your mind. If you love him, you’ll love this; if you hate him, you’ll get plenty of ammo here.

The film’s script is designed to constantly flatter the sensibilities of its target audience, which is a nice enough goal, but it never seems to reflect the way that people actually speak, think, or behave. At best it’s corny, and at its worst it’s actively offensive.

Describing Melania as a documentary implies that there’s meaningful, thoughtful intention to its construction, which is very much not the case. Call it a document, instead, of 20 days in the First Lady’s life circa January 2025, with all the weight and depth of a Post-it.

Hillary’s America is repugnant, and while it exists to get people who stand against it yelled at as much as anything, it’s essential that D’Souza not simply be written off as a hack pandering to a willing and lucrative audience regardless of the moral implications, though he is. D’Souza peddles the kind of “media” that’s become cancerous to the country he unyieldingly purports to worship.

For a film where not much ultimately happens, per se, Cronies is a thoughtful reflection on nostalgia and how the sins of the past affect the present.

Posthumous still manages to charm more often than it disappoints.