With a stunningly raw performance from Danielle Deadwyler, Chinonye Chukwu’s Till lives in the body of a traditional biopic — about Mamie Till-Mobley in the aftermath of her son Emmett’s lynching — but it turns real events into regretful, wistful memories, with a camera that refuses to look away from a mother’s pain.

Hellraiser is a reinvigorated reboot that gets the blood pumping, starting with Jamie Clayton’s worthy Pinhead performance that sets a fresh tone with immense reverence paid to Clive Barker's works.

My Best Friend’s Exorcism is gateway horror that puts storytelling above terror. It’s steady on its 1980s teenage-girl friendship drama, but other elements around the messaging stumble.

It’s a joyful, uplifting ode to tokusatsu and to superhero tales, and well worth a watch no matter your level of familiarity with the character.

Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon sizzles like a heated cajun fairytale that tells humanity how it is, brimming with Amirpour's distinctly creative voice that keeps me coming back for more.

Smile is a disorienting, anxiety-inducing nightmare that leaves you questioning everything you see. The scares feel over-abundant at first, with feints and fake-outs almost laughably frequent, but they eventually create a creeping paranoia that nothing is quite as it seems.

Rough greenscreen work can’t keep the Sanderson Sisters down in a fun enough follow-up to a Halloween classic.

Terrifier 2 rips, tears, hacks, shreds, butchers, disembowels, decapitates, devours, pulverizes, tenderizes, slices, dices, skewers — I'm missing plenty — and knock-em-out-dead eviscerates the current competition when it comes to low-budget slasher effects.

God’s Creatures explores generational family gender dynamics in an extremely slow-burn way, but it has plenty of rewards for patient viewers.

Spirit Halloween dodges the bargain bin by opening its doors to a proficient gateway horror tale that plays like Goosebumps Lite in a seasonal decoration store.

The Munsters is a wholesome labor of love that’s probably for the most diehard sitcom fans because for better and worse, Rob Zombie makes the Munsters reboot he wants to see.

V/H/S/99 understands the ‘90s assignment and crafts low-budget chaos that delivers a unified anthology slathered in guts, heavy on nostalgia, and with a punk-as-hell attitude.

A muddled mix of '90s teen flicks, curated for a new generation (with a Hitchcock premise swirled in), Do Revenge is a lukewarm high school vengeance tale that never settles on a tone and is barren when it comes to laughs.

A dreamlike fictional biopic about Marilyn Monroe, Blonde features a stunning, volatile performance from Ana de Armas, whose daring vulnerability is matched by director Andrew Dominik’s equally daring formal approach, which keeps Marilyn in constant conversation with her iconic photographs, with the camera, and with the public at large.

Goodnight Mommy might be passable as a standalone, but it’s impossible to recommend over the original. Matt Sobel and ​​Kyle Warren venture somewhere new that still doesn’t differentiate nearly enough for its quieter approach.

Confess, Fletch is a clever soft-baked cookie of a mystery, never getting too intense or presenting massive stakes, which is the perfect sandbox for a wise-cracking investigator like Fletch to play around in as he relies on a mix of charm, smarts, and luck to make it through to the other side.

The Woman King overcomes the perils of its overstuffed script with a collection of performances that elevate the whole. As expected, Viola Davis is the emotional center of the piece, masterfully fine-tuning her performance to go from fierce to vulnerable as needed.

Peter Farrelly's follow-up to Green Book is a war drama with some solid laughs and a great Zac Efron performance, but a manipulative script with ugly optics and boring visuals that never achieve the prestige it clearly wants.

Speak No Evil is a worthwhile test of wills that’s sure to dampen anyone’s day with a superbly excruciating tale of monsters in civilian clothing.

Henry Selick returns to our screens with Wendell & Wild, a new stop-motion nightmare that brings an edgier and darker tone, more mature subjects, and even more laughs to the director's toolbox. Partnering with Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key, this is a feast for the eyes; a hilarious, spooky, empowering story; and a movie you'll want to add to your Halloween rotation.

The Menu is a hilariously wicked thriller about the world of high-end restaurants, featuring a stellar cast led by a phenomenal Ralph Fiennes, some of the most gorgeous food shots in recent film history, and accompanied by a delicious hors d'oeuvres sampling of commentary on the service industry, class warfare, and consumerism.

Tom George succeeds in telling an excitably ambiguous case within a self-deprecating whodunit satire, even when employing the easiest tricks in the manual.

The Retaliators tries to transform musical stardom into a rock n’ roll horror epic, but suffers from “too many cooks” syndrome as the end product plays disjointed and can feel like a music video demo reel.

With a coming-of-age story that is universal in its portrayal of misunderstood artists and broken homes, but hyper-specific in its portrayal of the childhood that formed a legendary filmmaker, this is a therapy session turned into a hugely entertaining movie, aided by a fantastic cast, and one of John Williams' best scores in years.

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery is a bigger, bolder, funnier, angrier sequel that improves on almost every aspect of its predecessor.

From its anachronistic homages to its tensionless filmmaking, Pearl — Ti West’s prequel to X — doesn’t have nearly as much to say as its predecessor. Mia Goth gives it her all as a villainess who dreams of stardom, but the film can’t decide what to do with her.

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story does for the music biopic what the real Weird Al did for many a hit pop song: it makes fun of it, reveres it, remixes it, makes it weirder, and improves it.

Clerks III delivers all the inappropriate cuss-cluttered humor and pot smoke that is Kevin Smith's trademark but evolves his sentimentality beyond bong-rip wisdom. The third Clerks installment is a moving ode to working-class nobodies that amplifies Smith's touchstone sincerity above Randal's not-so-passive aggression or Jay's lit-for-days attitude.