What could have been an effective investigative drama and character study loses all momentum in the film’s structure.

When a sports drama fails to generate any real sense of exhilaration, whether in its protagonist’s climb back to the top or in the stakes surrounding his personal life, it ultimately falls short of its intentions. There is some fleeting satisfaction in watching a punch connect, aided by sound mixing that gives each blow a sense of weight, but beyond that, there is little here that truly lands.

A handful of compelling sequences of physical action cannot save a narrative weighed down by a mundane plot, pedestrian characters, and an intolerably sluggish filmmaking style.

All in all, Propeller One-Way Night Coach may be slightly more interesting from a meta perspective than a strictly cinematic one. Still, the sincerity that permeates every frame makes up for a lot of its shortcomings. It’s unlikely to cater to many people outside of Travolta’s most ardent fanbase, but even on those terms, it’s an enjoyable way to spend an hour in the sky.

Yes, Reminders of Him is very much an ordeal, but not so much because it’s bad. It’s an ordeal because of all the emotional muck these characters have to drag themselves through to get to the other side.

As someone who absolutely loves any kind of a crime film, “How To Make A Killing” can be entertaining at times as a morality play wrapped in designer suits and generational spite. It’s juggling a lot more than it needs to, and it never fully synthesizes its most perceptive ideas, but it’s powered by another star performance from Powell, keeping it barely afloat.

A flimsy plot and uninteresting characters would be tolerable if the dramatic moments of intense destruction were more intriguing. Instead, the palette is wholly bland and lifeless, unsupported by the framework of the storytelling and performances. A handful of impressive scenes come nowhere close to saving this picture. It’s disappointing that one of the most unexpectedly entertaining films of the last few years has led to a banal, forgettable project.

If anything, Tron: Ares is less a film than a cinematic pin dropped in a franchise map that’s going absolutely nowhere.

It provides the thrills, but leaves the audience hungry for a story with actual depth to its waters.

Gavras awkwardly swaps politically charged potency in exchange for an unmemorable satirical take-down of those contributing to our planet’s ongoing environmental destruction.

What’s most frustrating about Lee Cronin’s The Mummy is how tonally inconsistent it becomes. Yes, it finds a way to inject some delightful horror imagery that’s captivating, at least in the way that repulsive acts of over-the-top carnage can appease those sickos out there. However, this story does not come across as if that tone was top of mind.

Even when the story stumbles, Berger’s technical skill and Farrell’s all-in performance keep it engrossing.

For some, its extremity will be alienating; for others, its audacity will be exhilarating. “Rosebush Pruning” is undeniably well crafted, but as an absurdist comedy, it ultimately feels more provocative than profound.

By the end, Play Dirty feels less like a fresh Shane Black comeback and more like another casualty of the streaming churn, loud, empty, and forgettable.

The story still isn’t the most captivating and has another bit of frustrating sequel bait that muddies some arcs towards the finale, but it has a clearer sense of focus, at least putting the exciting sequences to the forefront. The filmmaking still has a bit of a stiltedness to it, but it leans further into an energizing tone that is far more engrossing.

Ultimately, Blackhurst’s new film is an unmissable horror gem that heralds the arrival of both a fresh new horror voice and an electrifying new villain for the ages.

Joker: Folie à Deux does many things right to deliver a fresh and unique sequel to the dark story of Arthur Fleck.

The whimsical tone becomes repetitive at times, and the recurring flashbacks to Antoine’s relationship with Irene often slows the film’s narrative momentum. Additionally, the film nearly collapses under the weight of its lofty ambitions in the final act, only to dodge a potentially disastrous conclusion. However, the believability of Antoine and Suzanne’s shared journey holds firm.

Kogonada channels something, often in the replication of the works of Jacques Demy and Hayao Miyazaki. Yet, it isn’t enough when the central dynamic at its core fails to elicit the yearning spirit that makes any viewer hopelessly head over heels.

This new Anaconda does have some occasionally clever bits, and a smile can indeed stretch across your face from time to time. But those moments are fleeting, buried under a sea of other jokes that don’t land and a cash-in on nostalgia that is never really warranted.

Though James does her best with what she’s given, this movie doesn’t provide a full and rich look at Wolfe Herd’s life, who is certainly a lot more than just her career achievements (they are immensely impressive, but shouldn’t define her).

Wyatt’s big-budget foray is an oddity, as it feels like it should be truly epic and a film for Hollywood studios to gobble up, but something went seriously wrong when making it.

Parallel Tales unspools away from sense and a compelling drive and instead turns out to be a monotonous, limp misfire.

Despite its flaws, the cast, while underused, is a powerhouse, especially Knightley, who remains magnetic. It’s just that “The Woman in Cabin 10” never manages to transcend its setup.

With the help of a superb makeup team, Billy Zane delivers an impressively complex performance as the enigmatic Marlon Brando that stands in stark contrast to the rest of the comedic film.

What makes the film succeed, as much as it can, is that sincere commitment to advocating decency in a chaotic world. It demonstrates this ideology not only through its protagonist’s philanthropic ambition but also in how effortlessly charming these characters can be.

There are very dark chapters in Michael Jackson’s life that one would not expect a film with the full endorsement of his estate to approve. It’s understandable, even expected, for these kinds of works. But what makes “Michael“ come underneath that generously low bar is that it refuses to paint its subject as anything less than saintly. It truly feels like this version of Jackson has been deified, shown to be consumed by his talent but without any dramatic stakes to accompany his triumphs.

It all makes one wonder why any of the original team returned for a sequel that not only undoes some of the far more impactful emotional beats of the final season but also leaves audiences in limbo about whether they even want to see Jack Ryan suit up for another disaster to solve.