As far as disposable action flicks go, Extraction makes good on its promise of seeing Chris Hemsworth kill a lot of people. Maybe that’s good enough for a direct-to-Netflix release, but wouldn’t it be nice if all of this mayhem actually added up to something in the end?

The King of Staten Island wants to balance sweetness with humor, but it never quite figures out the formula. Many of Davidson’s quips are pretty funny, but there’s nothing here that’s going to stick with you – the next great quotable comedy this is not. The pathos fairs a bit better, but here the problems of Davidson’s range become apparent.

In the end, Emilia Pérez can't help but feel like a half-completed thought experiment, anchored by the performances of a trio of women all but willing this past the finish line.

The Strangers didn't need these horror tropes to become a sensation, so it's very odd to see them shoehorned into this new trilogy.

At a bloated 156 minutes, audiences will have too ample time to ponder the film's many weaknesses. The racing will be exciting — very exciting, in fact — and Pitt is certainly a movie star, but quite frankly, I can have my own midlife crisis, thank you. I don't need to watch Pitt's.

While Snook and LaTorre give it their all, Run Rabbit Run is just another example of a movie not working unless it knows what it wants to be.

Goodnight Mommy isn't a downright horrible movie, but it certainly won't stick with you. Well, maybe the ending will, but that's not a good thing.

"Believer" is not the worst "Exorcist" film by any stretch, but it's certainly the least intriguing. It's a rote, choppy thriller that forgets to scare us.

All of this is emblematic of a film that suffers from self-inflicted wounds at practically every turn. Lacking the cleverness of the original, the undeniable flair of the best of Wes Craven's sequels, and the crowd-pleasing thrills of the recent revivals, "Scream 7" is more or less dead on arrival. Maybe it should stay that way.

The stakes aren't very high in this film, and there are a few cardinal cinema sins at work here, but overall, Your Place Or Mine ends up being a decent time by coasting on its merits. When it's strong, it's pretty strong—and when it's not, it shows.

It's not that big, it's hardly bold, and it's only beautiful on its surface. It could have been a journey.

Whenever The Unholy wants to scare you, it simply enters internet screamer territory, complete with ghoul faces rushing directly into the camera as loud noises boom from somewhere. Outside of these admittedly startling moments, The Unholy unfolds sedately, and sometimes incoherently.

Spiral blunders through its central mystery without grace or style, or even much thought. Even the death traps are weirdly uninspired.

Shotgun Wedding could've worked, even with the script as is, if the cast was a little sharper, a little less prone to yelling half of their dialogue, and a little more willing to get weirder and more unexpected. But only one of the ensemble got that memo.

The Woman in the Window is so silly and broad that it begins to border on camp, and I have a feeling this could become the type of cheesy dreck that people get a hoot out of if they follow Anna’s lead and down one or two or ten bottles of wine. By the time the film climaxes with multiple predictable but utterly preposterous twists, you’ll probably be reaching for a bottle yourself.

Ryder is honestly the only shining light here. ... But she deserves better than the murky slog that is "The Cow."

I came out of "Let There Be Carnage" wanting more Venom and Eddie. I came out of "The Last Dance" content to never see them again. If this really is "The Last Dance," it comes not a moment too soon.

The 355 is the cinematic equivalent of Hydrox. It's a bland and generic retread of something that's well-liked, if not beloved, something that feels vaguely like the real thing.

It fails to be either funny or dramatic.

While Red Notice may not be unwatchable, by the time the film ends with a deliberate sequel set-up, I was so turned off by the mercenary nature of it all that I was left with a bad taste in my mouth.

Ultimately, writer-director Sigal's issue lies within his script more so than his directorial eye.

If you're looking for the gothic thrills and chills that make "Pet Sematary" so special, stick to the novel, or the '89 film, or even the 2019 remake, and leave "Bloodlines" dead and buried where it belongs. 

Despite a villain that does everything possible to elevate The Amazing Maurice, this is a forgettable movie. I think kids will have a decent time with it. Adults won't be as fortunate, and it'll take a lot of restraint to not stare at their watches.

The new trilogy ends frail whimper rather than a T-rex-worthy roar.

A painfully slow slog, this horror film from Romola Garai has plenty of good ideas and a few neat creature effects, but that’s not enough to salvage things.

Snyder once again displays his usual knack for crafting the occasional breathtaking visual and colorful splash page — a kiss silhouetted by the Veldt equivalent of magic hour, a spaceship foregrounded by an eclipsing star, and a stunning tableau of lasers crisscrossing in the heat of battle are memorable highlights — but his insistence on serving as his own director of photography continues to hold him back at every turn.

Whatever the flaws of the previous "Resident Evil" series, those films were never as dull as "Raccoon City." Roberts doesn't seem to know how to milk anything resembling genuine horror out of the material here.

This is a movie that very much wants to call back to the original — and in doing so, it inadvertently reminds us of how much better the original was, and how bad this is.