The talented quartet saves the movie, but making it great would take a rewrite.

While the movie could be a notch scarier, the unsettling imagery and slow build to chaos make me want another movie by this director stat.

This wannabe works oh so hard to be a contemporary detective noir, with its shadows, damsel in distress and brooding narration. But it never finds the suspense or sensuality of that genre.

The Protégé should’ve been a home run for director Martin Campbell, who did brilliantly with Casino Royale, Daniel Craig’s first James Bond film. He brought seriousness to the old franchise without sacrificing its charm or decadence. Instead, we get old clichés.

The supporting voices are sublime. Alongside Hudson are Audra McDonald, Tituss Burgess and Broadway’s Hailey Kilgore and Saycon Sengbloh. But the music, absent a believable 1960s sense of place or real concert atmosphere, doesn’t rouse so much as please, not unlike the familiar movie it’s a part of. Respect settles for being respectable.

CODA is part of that fizzling genre of film, popular in the ’90s, in which you’re almost always on the verge of sobbing while watching it.

The script by Matt Lieberman and Zak Penn is hysterical, but director Shawn Levy must’ve sold his soul to the devil to secure this cast.

Vivo is a heartfelt piece with catchy songs and a much more cohesive plot than Miranda’s Moana, which gets tangled midway through. Sure it could do with a touch more depth, but in the kids movie genre, you could do a lot worse.

Unlike Zack Snyder’s Justice League, there is nothing serious about The Suicide Squad. That’s a good thing.

The film seizes Lowery’s best skills as a director: his eye for innocence and nature (Pete’s Dragon) and how he uses slowness to deepen a story (The Old Man and the Gun).

What director Tom McCarthy’s intriguing film — which is a tad overlong — deftly explores are the cultural barriers that prevent us from achieving basic goals, such as solving a murder, and connecting with people unlike ourselves. The story is a lot more nuanced than France vs. America.

To bulk up the thin material, the film steals from countless other, better adventure movies to create an altogether less satisfying combo plate that costs $30 to rent on Disney+.

The fights, taken on their own, are occasionally OK, but not enough to lift this joke-and-fun-free slog.

M. Night Shyamalan’s new thriller, Old, is campy, poorly written, candy-colored and subtle as Eurovision.

Over its interminable, nearly two-hour runtime, the film repeatedly mocks its very existence.

The best thing about the Escape Room film series is that it gives audience members clear directions in the title about what they should immediately do: Escape. Room. Get out of that theater and go see Black Widow instead. Run for your lives — and sanity!

It’s my favorite Cage performance in some time, after overly bizarre turns in recent years as a murderous parent in Mom and Dad and an inmate on a mission in the Japanese film Prisoners of the Ghostland. When he goes back to basics, it’s as rich and juicy as a delicious ham steak.

1994 plays more like television than a theatrical film. The more limited scope isn’t bothersome, though, because you can only watch it on your TV, after all, and two more films/episodes are soon on the way.

That idea was fun once, maybe even twice, but by the fifth outing the formula has given way to preachiness and predictability.

The Tomorrow War, in trying to become the new Independence Day (this release date is not arbitrary), throws Alien, The Terminator and A Quiet Place in a blender. And, like that gross kale smoothie you made once, the result is gray goop.

How unfortunate that we have two Ant-Man films and soon will have a pair of Doctor Strange flicks, but in all likelihood just a single Black Widow — a much deeper, more fascinating, more exciting character than either of those two duds, sorry, dudes.

What Werewolves Within aims to be is a Knives Out of the horror genre, with a wacky ensemble having a blast while they play enormous characters and follow clues. They do, and their antics are enjoyable for the most part. However, unlike the Daniel Craig mystery film, Werewolves can sometimes be overly spastic and annoying.

I don’t mind Diesel and Cena starring in movies like this, because it helps keep them out of other, better movies. But to see folks such as Helen Mirren (doing her weird cockney accent again), Russell and Theron’s talents wasted on such schlock is a shame.

The characters are so wacky you don’t believe them as killers or strategists or even just bystanders who are in the right place at the right time. You simply don’t buy anything about them. Ever.

For the most part, though, Luca is light and effervescent as a summertime Bellini, which is something parents can drink while the kids watch this.

Trust me — it’s been ages since you’ve seen actors have this much fun in a movie.

Devil, make a better movie.

I’d rather put Baby Shark on repeat all day than spend another 90 minutes with this adult horse.