The Electric State has an epic look but that’s increasingly common in any movie with sci-fi elements. But, aside from the special effects, it feels unfinished, with the actors groping to inhabit barely-there characters. What does it say when Mr. Peanut has more personality than either of the main characters?

Hollywood’s decision to abandon this kind of storytelling is one reason why cinema in the 2020s has fallen into the doldrums and, when something like Black Bag arrives, it’s a bittersweet reminder of the potential of the big screen experience.

As it is, this is a painless experience but lacks the qualities to make it a true pleasure.

The screenplay fails to provide any reason to care about the characters or their circumstances, so we sit in a theater seat, trying not to be hypnotized by all the flashes of light in the muddled brown-and-white environment or lulled to sleep by the inane babbling that passes for dialogue.

A mostly failed attempt to merge sci-fi with satire, Mickey 17 suffers from a fragmented narrative and a scenery-chewing performance from Mark Ruffalo that belongs in a different movie (perhaps Poor Things).

For those who hang in there long enough, Riff Raff delivers. I just wish the buildup had been more engaging.

Although I was suitably diverted by Last Breath, I couldn’t help but feel there was a missed opportunity to tell a more riveting story that, for whatever reason, the filmmakers chose not to pursue.

The movie isn’t quite as unhinged as the trailer indicates but it’s far enough off the beaten path to provide enjoyment for those who enjoy their blood & guts served with a twist.

Attempts at wit and humor seem half-hearted at best. Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy isn’t a terrible movie; it’s mediocre at worst. But it never should have been made.

Captain America: Brave New World, the fourth title to co-opt the “Captain America” name and the first to star Anthony Mackie in the role, is another example of how badly unmoored the MCU has become in an era of unfamiliar heroes and stalled storylines.

Overall, I found the film to be somewhat disappointing – another instance of a streaming service pouring big screen dollars into a project of only middling quality.

A mixture of documentary and thriller, this is a compelling two-hour production.

This is a painfully bad movie that thinks it’s trying to be Jackie Chan-meets-John Wick and flies so far wide of the target that it might have been shot by a blind man.

Love Me isn’t bad in the sense that it is poorly assembled or incompetently shot. On a craft and technical level, it’s above average. But the narrative is incoherent and the philosophical meanderings lack depth and intelligence.

It’s definitely not a pure thought-piece: there is a body count and quite a bit of blood (although this is by no means a gore-fest). But it seeks to do more with familiar tropes than merely create an unimaginative story around them.

At best, Gibson’s direction could be considered pedestrian. He fails to generate much tension prior to the climax and the characters never do enough to engage the viewer. The protagonists are bland and the villain lacks charisma.

The obligatory jump-scares aren’t the best and the movie is at times frustratingly underlit, but those things don’t keep the suspense at bay. In the end, however, Wolf Man is a story of sacrifice and love.

Although a heist film with a high testosterone quotient might not be everyone’s favorite wintertime treat, it’s an effective antidote for all the highfalutin Oscar wannabes out there.

It features a great performance by Domingo but, in some ways the less showy contributions of the former real-life inmates represent the best Sing Sing has to offer. The movie is touching and uplifting in often unexpected ways.

Young is very good in her part, making Eva a strong, flawed character whose depth helps to counterbalance the shallowness of everyone else. On the whole, however, The Damned wasn’t able to achieve what I was hoping from it and, rather than being an overlooked gem, it’s instead simply “overlooked.”

For all its sparkling visuals, Mufasa is redundant. And that makes watching it (at least as an adult) deflating.

It doesn’t break any molds but expertly crafts familiar material into an end product that will likely appeal to a wide audience.

Gracey’s bracing style, which invites some interesting observations (such as whether sex scenes featuring Williams-as-a-chimp should be considered bestiality), gives the movie an edge that it never loses even after we have gotten used to the substitution.

Anderson’s performance is the selling point but one can rightly question whether it’s enough to bolster the malnourished narrative.

A Complete Unknown isn’t shallow but the screenplay makes no attempt to psychoanalyze its subject. If there’s something to be learned, it’s how uncomfortable it could be to enter this man’s orbit. His music is iconic and speaks to many but, from the first scene to the last, he remains A Complete Unknown.

With its striking images, pervasive atmosphere, and incessant sense of dread, Nosferatu leaves an impression that proves hard to shake.

It rewards patience not only in the way it crafts its central character but develops the era in which it transpires.

Babygirl is perhaps not as gloriously, guiltily entertaining as some of the films Reijn used as models but it offers its own pleasures.