Islands feels less like a destination than a prolonged pause. It’s watchable, occasionally absorbing, but rarely urgent. It’s hard to shake off the feeling that Gerster introduces narrative ideas he has little interest in fully developing.

Worldbreaker has the skeletal framework of a great dystopian thriller, but never progresses beyond surface-level worldbuilding. Even so, it effectively captures the resilience of a family that doggedly battles the odds for survival in a world teeming with chaos.

Waugh knows how to build an action sequence with the best of them, and Shelter is, ultimately, an electric actioner, so long as it is sticking to the action.

Carousel is a moving romance in all the ways it isn't romantic.

The circumstances around Audrey and Eli's union (Moon Choi and Son Suk-ku, respectively) is tender, yet forceful, beautiful, yet pained; but the film is otherwise formless, uninspiring and moves like molasses.

What makes The Invite ultimately so special is its unabashed honesty, even when it means doom.

The Wrecking Crew has finally put Momoa and Bautista on screen together and, thankfully, it largely lives up to the potential of the acting duo.

The Incomer is a sweet and charming adult fairy tale whose primary characteristic, a twee and cheeky sense of humor, is both its appeal and its achilles' heel.

Wilson showed with his television series just how life-affirming it can be to just observe, and, with his triumph of a feature doc, he shows us how merely looking around can reveal entire histories.

None of it works. I'll cut to the quick: The Moment is an unmitigated disaster.

Gans and co-writers Sandra Vo-Anh and Will Schneider clearly wanted to try and make a faithful translation of the second game in the series, but between unnecessary lore changes and a lack of thematic heft in some of its storytelling, the filmmaker's return to the franchise is a weird mix of exciting recreations, gorgeous visuals and disappointing execution.

The best parts of Mother of Flies are in the margins. At its most lucid, it tells us that life, death and healing are magic — both of the Western and witchy varieties.

No disrespect to Foy, who showed with The Crown just how capable she is of revealing entire histories through her open visage, but watching her go through the extremely repetitious (and, one supposes, accurate) steps of training a Eurasian Goshawk is exceptionally tiresome. H is for Hawk induces the same effect as taking a sedative.

The process of searching through all manner of cloud-based applications and information in a video-game-like manner is a tantalizing prospect, one just wishes it wasn't done for something so harebrained.

The color palette stays consistently vibrant with the comedic theme of the film and of a city like Alabama. Paired with measured pacing and a satisfyingly calibrated ending — where most characters get what they deserve — Signing Tony Raymond leaves viewers smiling at a familiar underdog story, confidently and capably told.

Shyne is less concerned with a unified story, instead dipping in and out of her subject’s lives and in the process giving us a much more involved experience of a fading subculture.

Underneath its story of the sudden animation of household products is a layered critique of late-stage capitalism, a plea for the humanity of queer folks, a rebuke of the erasure of history and of memory, and a challenge against traditionalism which holds back a people from necessarily breaking free, to the next stage of life.

In implicit ways, Deepfaking Sam Altman demonstrates just how out of touch from basic humanity these programs still are, which makes it all the more terrifying when we hear how they are being peddled as tools which can literally decide the fate of human lives.

Its bizarre blend of genre and tonality comes together in an altogether surprising way; a labyrinth of ceaseless pleasures.

Co-writer/director Ryan Prows has assembled a star-studded cast, some of whom wonderfully elevate their potentially one-note characters into intriguing figures, and its base structure of corrupt cops being vampires is one rife for tackling the very real issues of police corruption in the world, yet the mix never quite comes together.

Ultimately, Brechin appears less interested in crafting a vicious aquatic thriller than in condemning the cruelty of animal captivity. While Killer Whale succeeds as a somber meditation on that subject, it falters as a survival film, offering too little spectacle, tension, or invention to justify its genre trappings.

It's possible to watch this movie thinking mostly of what could have been – if the script was as deft as it sometimes pretends to be, this had the makings of a truly great thriller. But The Rip is a good time when experienced on its wavelength, and worthy material for a relaxed night in.

ALL YOU NEED IS KILL is not a film that'll have you scratching your head for meaning. It wears its empathy and its plea for life on its sleeve like a badge of honor. Admirable though that is, that directness does translate into threadbare writing.

Shuffle is a solid primer for a massive subject, and Flaherty's approach is a maddening introduction to a world that needs massive reform.

After its more interesting first hour, the intimate access gets tiresome, and it's hard to say what is gained by being introduced to the personal lives of the members of a notorious hate group.

The magic of DaCosta's film is that it tells us that, regardless of who you are, what we're all searching for is the same thing: community, and a place to call home.

Altogether, People We Meet On Vacation is a wildly entertaining and heartwarming romantic comedy that's perfect for fans of the genre, those who've read Henry's original novel and anyone looking for a date night movie as we head into Valentine's Day season.

Greenland 2 manages to put itself in a league of its own, proving that, not only can disaster movies avoid being totally nonsensical, but also, there can be something that comes after—and that exploration of what's next can be just as good as what came before.

Overall, the pulpier and the dumber it gets, Primate provides a pretty good reason to get to the theater in January. And, it gets pretty pulpy and dumb indeed.

When Ma focuses on the grounded journey of Sara's fish-out-of-water story and the genuine chemistry between her and Sam, the film sings.

With Holland and Mara, the commitment to The Dutchman is apparent and though its ending feels as if things are wrapped up a bit too cleanly, the film succeeds in being an unnerving odyssey over one New York night.

Ignore the publicity bluster, and you'll find at the core of Song Sung Blue the same modest dream to entertain that drives the Sardinas. Is it one of the best films of the year? Certainly not. But a good time at the movies? You betcha.

It's far from a poorly-constructed movie, but the tonal issues and refusal to invest in its strongest personalities make it a frustrating watch.

Thanks to Liu as both performer and producer, Rosemead not only earns its place among those films’ superlative ranks, but achieves a surprisingly powerful balance between intimate cultural authenticity and urgent, universal relevance.

Its sometimes rushed pacing and overstuffed arcs often work against the meaningful messages at the core of the story, particularly the ending, but with enough charming moments and soulful performances from its cast, particularly Bacon and Sedgwick, it really toes the line between being a must-watch and an acceptable skip.

There’s a real thematic depth to each chapter, and the stories are relatable enough to never be boring, but Jarmusch’s insistence on writing three separate narratives about the same concept is a major misstep.

Anaconda aims to be Bowfinger for a new generation but ends up feeling as insipid as the film it is loosely based on. Its target audience is people nostalgic for the salad days of studio blockbusters, who are righteously frustrated with executives for cashing in on material they don't understand.

Even as it veers into darker thematic territory, Feig's light touch and Seyfried's committed performance add an air of deranged enjoyment that make The Housemaid one of the most fun movies of 2025.

Thrilling and sumptuous, James Cameron’s latest chapter in this ongoing saga is probably the best one to date, with painstaking world-building, sweeping action and stunning imagery. It also feels too often like a remake of its predecessor, with characters, conflicts and plot developments that even the most devoted fans may find repetitive.

Hersh and Poitras fit together like hand in glove. Exceptional warriors for absolute truth and justice, both have made careers out of exposing systemic abuses of power in ways that have often made them enemies of the state - and yet, both have been granted unusual access to the truth.

Through form and function, Abbas demonstrates the ironic and contradictory nature of his very enterprise, as the temporal fixity of the photograph clashes with the persistent movement of a migrant constantly pulled in multiple directions.

Despite this being a film billed as "samurai versus cannibals," it is actually at its best before the fighting begins.

Resurrection is both testament to the importance of storytelling, as well as the dangers of falling too far within its rabbit hole. But with stories as wrenching and images as evocative as these, why not jump in?

Serious People doesn't deal in cynicism. Its quiet ending wraps things up too tidily, but there's a strange sort of optimism to its idiocy that is quite endearing.

It would be unfair to assign blame to any one performance, or even to Winslet's direction, when the script is the obvious culprit. Story or character hurdles are thrown up and surmounted with the same neatness, sapping them of their impact. The movie becomes so certain of its footing that the two-hour runtime starts to feel like a chore.

Ultimately, there are few filmmakers whose work I admire more for its sophistication and undeniable humanity than that of Brooks, but this film isn’t just bad — it’s unbearable.

It hits the familiar beats that many find comforting, it has an undeniably adoring dog front and center for much of its runtime, and has a well-meaning enough outcome to its plot. But for those looking for something that doesn't quite literally skate the surface of its premise and characters, this is definitely not the film for you.

Silent Night, Deadly Night, is at its best when Nelson remembers how schlocky this material is, and he falters when he tries too hard to take it seriously.

What lingers after watching the film in its most complete form, however, is the fact that it’s so thoughtfully written, brilliantly constructed and (especially) beautifully acted. One imagines that breaking the film in two may have scuttled its chances of earning Uma Thurman a Best Actress nomination, but 20-plus years on, she deserves that recognition more than ever, conveying the character’s strength, resilience and determination, but also her incredible vulnerability.

At turns heartbreaking in its acuteness, at others exhilarating in its access to the dangers of pleasure, Djukić's is a rare kind of coming-of-age film. It is langorous in delivery, yet fast like lightning when it lands.

Oxman’s directional choices — such as lingering close-ups — are added benefits that enable us to connect more deeply with its characters. And thanks to some very powerful performances from Bateman and Dillon, this isn’t just a story that invites us to explore the effects of childhood troubles. It reiterates that understanding is all we ever truly want and need from others.

Though rooted in familiar territory, it lands on an unexpectedly resonant note, blending humor, heartache, and hard-won connection into a conclusion that works marginally better than its formula suggests.

The dialogue is clunky and almost universally awkwardly performed, much more so than in the first movie. The tonal mix of horror and silliness feels more jarring than complementary, and the filmmaking, which could accomplish so much just by sticking to genre fundamentals, is often egregiously sedate.

Though its far-reaching ambitions and many stylistic juxtapositions might make it seem like the work of two (or more!) filmmakers, Marty Supreme isn’t just a masterpiece, but feels vividly like a cohesive — and singular — vision.

At its heart, it is Holt and Swindells’ performances that give the story its warmth and soul — qualities essential to any Christmas movie.

Zootopia 2 is just as strong as its predecessor. It manages to expand the world in exciting ways, tell another compelling story with its main characters and recapture the magic of Zootopia.

The film is woeful from top to bottom.

In some ways, the film's hollowness allows it to circle back upon itself and become a pure expression of adrenaline.

Wicked: For Good does stumble at various points. The much-touted new songs by returning songwriter Stephen Schwartz are superfluous, and there's a laughably regrettable decision near the end involving Jeff Goldblum that only avoids disaster by being very brief. But all the same magic that powered the first film is still at work in this one.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Peas and Carrots is amateur on almost every front, and whatever it has to say about finding one's proper role in society is hidden inside some utterly confounding plot devices.

This uncommon image of survival accentuates the devastation of loss. Fatma is just one victim; what other worlds have we lost with each new death?

We are never not an integral part of this couple's evolving understanding of mortality, art, and partnership.

Nearly everything Ritchson and James do in the name of comedy is forced and untethered from reality. Then again, so is the movie, so at least it's consistent.

Heretical or not, it's a captivating story, even when it seems predicated solely on vibes. It's a shame, then, that the film is not as accessible as Jupe is as an actor. The first two acts move like molasses, brimming with allegory that never quite translates off the page.

In its gorgeous animation and stylization of motion blur, Arco pleads us to return to a time when we dreamt about the future as hidden through fluffy clouds and resplendent rainbows.

Bull Run is so devoid of substance that much of it is taped together with ironic usage of stock photos and archival footage, as if to constantly point at the vapidity of its own enterprise.

Even when removed from the implications of his prolific career, there isn't a ton here that gives us an unbridled look into the man's inner life.

Edgar Wright and Glen Powell are consummate entertainers, and they made this dystopian Stephen King movie as fun and guilt-free as they could.

Ultimately, the film is far too placid and noncommittal to earn its more moving climax. It's hard to really care about these characters when their stream of decisions seems either improperly motivated or else frustratingly selfish.

Even more than its two predecessors, the film relies on being condescension to sell its so-called magic.

Comedically, the film also falters . . . Nor is there much that is distinctive about the animation style.

Younger children will delight in the film's atmospheric wonder, but older children may be bored by the simple yet nonspecific comedy.

To put it in a kinder way, Little Amélie is a delicate testament to the power of solidarity and the ability of children to heal wounds across space and time.

Gulner, who has five other writing credits but directs here for the first time, is a sturdy filmmaker with a solid feel for pace and tone. With The Beldham, she has crafted a clever piece of writing whose ending recontextualizes the whole film in a magnetic flash.

With bi-erasure and transphobia both ballooning, I Wish You All The Best comes with a strong message of hope: that you, too, can be an awkward, flailing teen. That awkwardness is not exclusive to those who fit a traditional mold, and that we all deserve a chance to mess up.

The film feels unexpectedly mournful, bringing to life a time that does not exist anymore.

Palestine 36 is beautifully shot and researched, and peppered with historical touches.

Dan Trachtenberg's third Predator entry is exciting, but also tonally askew in ways that prevent it from hitting its stride.

The revelations of the film, once they come, are admittedly disturbing. But the route to get there is paved with blandness and awkward acting.

With Nuremberg, James Vanderbilt is less interested in showing Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe) as "normal," as he is in accentuating Hitler's right-hand man as a charming charlatan. But this intentionality is miscalculated, and the film, bloated as it is with jarring tonal changes and thickly laid-on sentimentality, tilts so far into humanizing Nazis that it seems, at times, to apologize for the behavior of the high command.

What the film does have is a sense of style and an ability to keep us engaged through a riotous cast that is clearly having a lot of fun.

Diaz's previous work is both longer, cheaper and mostly in black and white. Magellan is still long, but by comparison, a breeze; it is also clearly expensive and centers a massive global star in what is essentially a biopic. But Diaz's work is subversive by design, a bait-and-switch as a matter of course.

We all need a really good laugh, and Drymon and company deliver.

Director Kaouther Ben Hania's The Voice of Hind Rajab is a shattering docu-film which utilizes a novel mix of real audio and footage with actors' reconstruction in a Herculean effort to make this profound loss even more immediate. Hers is a utilitarian mission: to embed the audience in the sensory experience of being in a war zone without letting them scroll past or swipe to the next video.

Yes is an astonishing protest film whose comedy belies a broken heart.

Miroirs No. 3 is a bucolic, poetic film of simple beauty with light, magical touches about the ability of a stranger’s love.

If cinema does go the way of the dinosaurs someday, it is at least good to know that the limits of its power are still being tested by the likes of Rajamouli, whose work reaches so far outside the frame it seems to magically reach out of the screen itself, into the audience's beating heart.

Left-Handed Girl is ultimately quite optimistic while never succumbing to the saccharine.

The film would've been better served had it stuck to either satire or tense drama, but whatever the case, the climax of Saleh's film is aces and as taut as can be.

The chamber drama of a rich family in collapse is only successful as much as the context within which it exists, and, because that context is as slippery as it is, Anniversary just feels toothless.

The film's best attribute is the romance between Bruce and Faye. White and Young's chemistry is palpable, and Cooper solidly helps us understand why an artist on the verge of overwhelming fame might be interested in a working-class single mother, whose planted smile belies the pain of someone abandoned and bereft. There's a nuance here that the rest of the film sorely lacks and needs.

There’s a sincerity that underscores its central themes, and the performances, writing, and direction don’t cut corners to get to the end. And what we end up with is a comedy-drama that understands what a thoughtful exploration of a relationship can look like onscreen.

Cervera’s film is consistently intriguing, elevated by the dynamic between Winstead and Monroe, who have solid onscreen chemistry.

Perhaps the lesson of the film is that regret is a waste of emotional bandwidth, but regret is easy to feel when the story is a fumbled as this.

The combination of crime film and romantic gothic horror never really gels. It is successful in its invocation of old Hollywood (including a very fun opening credits sequence), and its horror beats are effective, but it doesn't work in total.

It's a breathtaking film from a new visionary of the queer indie scene.

Ultimately, the film is successful in having its cake and eating it too. It is both a tense political thriller and a crackling satire of drunken power. The comedy of the first two-thirds becomes the horror in the last, as these people’s willful ignorance of danger becomes terrifying in its potential repercussions.

The film is so well put together, constructed with such warmth, that it does paper over its own indulgence.