From the first act straight through to the third, the film engages on a level far higher than it needs to. Which is what happens when you put real craft behind a premise that could have coasted on novelty.

If Hokum proves anything, it’s that McCarthy isn’t just part of this new wave of horror filmmakers—he’s carving out his own narrow corridor within it. A place where folklore, psychology, and just enough chemical suggestion collide.

While it’s fun to see the characters back in action, The Devil Wears Prada 2 is overstuffed and meanders. The film also suffers from self-consciousness. Too many celebrities show up in ways that feel pointless, turning TDWP2 into self-congratulatory mush.

Harlin has had a long and uneven career leading up to this. Though he isn’t quite old enough to have tackled Deep Water back in 1979, he did make Cliffhanger and Die Hard 2 in the 1990s, and this feels like a kind of spiritual successor to those star-driven action movies.

It’s difficult to assess what’s more compelling in this story: the characters, real Canadian salt-of-the-earth people who were that desperate enough to go through with the scheme, or the actual simplicity and near-success of the scheme itself.

Zweig’s hope is that his film helps give people permission to talk. Participants describe the decision-making involved in whether or not to disclose a loved one’s suicide — they don’t mind talking about it, but it can make other people uncomfortable. As one man says about his loss, “As hard as it is, please ask me about it.” Zweig asked. The result is a lean, unfussy, and very human documentary. May we all have Zweig’s courage.

It would have been a nice touch to have Switzer, Watt-Cloutier, and Farmer meet and interact. If nothing else, it might have given Tough Old Broads a connectivity beyond three fascinating stories, separately told.

Is this about forgiveness as a pathway to love? Lowery doesn’t sew it up for us in a neat package or give us the answers, but I have no doubt that anyone who resonates with the film will come away with thoughts of their own.

Fuze’s denouement is terrific, completely unpredictable and surprisingly funny. It’s as if summer blockbuster season came early. Fuze is… wait for it… a must-see blast.

I Swear is what’s usually described as a “crowd pleaser” but there is an issue with the way the film conveys the alienation John Davidson feels. A viewer gets a pile-on of terrible events rather than the deep character dive required for emotional investment.

If you don’t know much about Michael Jackson and are content to keep it that way, Michael is the film for you.

Though I am sure there will be many more family memory films, Blue Heron sets the bar at a new level.

Cronin doesn’t just show you something disturbing—he insists you sit with it until it becomes personal.

The Christophers is full of heady thumb-sucking questions about legacy, artistic expression and commerce, and reinvention, a subject Soderbergh knows well. This is far from blockbuster Soderbergh (Erin Brokovich, the Oceans trilogy, Magic Mike), but a return to the basics: A set, a mobile camera, a couple of terrific actors, and a story to explain what brings them there.

If Lorne really is “the most boring” doc of the Oscar-winning Neville’s career, it’s only because his career bar is high. As it is, Lorne is a terrific backgrounder for devout fans of Saturday Night Live. Fairweather fans, on the other hand, might find it like an overlong sketch.

Writer-director Genki Kawamura keeps his camera angles tight, the better to maintain tension at a boil, and makes the most of his minimal and repetitive set. Fans of the Canadian horror classic Cube should enjoy.

It’s your typical mistaken-identity love story, in which one pretty person must decide between two pretty people, with the choice heavily influenced by who looks best when wet.

The film is immersive, in the sense of the frog in gradually heating water, where you reach boiling point before you realize it.

For a movie that lazily spins its wheels, Fantasy Life is oddly amiable. The only wholly dislikable character is David, and he’s so great at being dislikable, you almost like him for it.

A sweet and uplifting documentary twist on the horror genre, Silver Screamers is, as they say in Yiddish, a “mitzvah” on the part of director Sean Cisterna, and a gift that keeps on giving.

It’s an exceedingly black comedy threaded through with intense drama that completely deconstructs the rom-com, casting it as both a shiny and sinister thing… and one frequently inducing vomiting.

If Logan’s Run and The African Queen had a baby, it might look something like Brazilian dystopian sci-fi drama The Blue Trail. If that’s too much of a narrative stretch, then imagine a close cousin to 2024’s Can I Get a Witness? Except, sadly, not nearly as good.

Palestine ‘36 is at its most moving in the scenes of archival footage, and most provocative as an illustration of how England’s imperial tactics of pitting national groups against each other and terrorizing civilians (characters refer to similar approaches India and Ireland) became the template for Israeli’s ongoing military domination of the Palestinian territories. The argument is unlikely to change fixed hearts and minds, but it is difficult to ignore how familiar it seems.

The scenes feel like they've come straight out of 1970s and 80s B-comedies, outdated and out of step with the main plot, which feels richer in comparison. It’s distracting enough to slow the movie down.

The AI Doc is visually pretty standard — lots of talking heads, B-roll of robots, and cutesy animation to make it more personal — but it’s also a grand primer on the topic, skipping the standard news headlines of Will It Take My Job? (maybe) and Does it Espouse Suicide (tragically, sometimes yes) in favour of a kind of point-counterpoint-synthesis setup.

Historical hindsight lets us predict where this kind of train ride inevitably ends.

We can see the character’s angst, happiness and sorrow, but it doesn’t cut through. The film’s emotional life doesn’t quite connect and feels remote.

There’s a particular confidence to Undertone that doesn’t announce itself with spectacle, but with restraint. It’s the confidence of a film that knows exactly how little it needs to show you in order to get under your skin.