Admittedly, How to Train Your Dragon is not terrible like some of the Disney remakes out there, and it's better than almost all of them, but it's not substantial enough to warrant its existence.

There's a bit of quiet courageousness to the movie in its commitment to depth over trying to nakedly appeal to others, and that's a quality which makes any person — and any film — more desirable. So, I'll follow the film's bravery by admitting, right here and now, that I'm in love with it.

In stark contrast to the rise of "second screen" brain rot and clunky dialogue meant to catch streaming audiences up on whatever they missed while scrolling on their phones, Killer of Killers demands your undivided attention every step of the way lest you fall behind.

Instead, The Life of Chuck is one of the most insightful and moving philosophical films ever made, a movie that's as much Kierkegaard as it is King.

Sure, it's a lot of fun watching beautiful assassin Ana de Armas pick up a flamethrower and burn some dudes to a crisp, but a film featuring such an exciting concept shouldn't be this forgettable.

What the movie lacks in laughs it more than makes up for with a hip savviness that pervades every frame.

After the original "Fear Street" trilogy, I was itching to return to Shadyside. It was not worth the wait.

The film lacks the wonderment and excitement of Indiana Jones, but it's not quite as dumb as "The Da Vinci Code," and certainly less obnoxious than, say, "Red Notice."

This version of Nani and Lilo's relationship is far closer to reality, which makes the heartstring-pulling snap back with even more intensity. In a cute albeit sanitized reimagining, the bond of these sisters is the one thing that cannot be broken.

The film belongs to Del Toro and Threapleton, each of whom steal the film in disparate ways.

If you like your horror bleak, mean, and scary in ways you can't quite articulate, you're in for a wonderfully nasty treat.

We're expected to find the Weeknd's melancholy entertaining. It isn't. Nor is Hurry Up Tomorrow. It's just awful. 

And yet, The Final Reckoning is too messy, too awkward, too clumsy. It somehow feels overlong and inert even as it never slows down.

When the world feels like it's on fire and atrocities are inescapable, there are few outlets for cathartic stress relief quite like a Final Destination movie. We're a culture plagued by existential dread already, so why not have fun shrieking, laughing, and judging people for their dumb decisions without consequence? Watching a film like Final Destination Bloodlines in a theater full of screaming strangers is my kind of community building.

Provides a spoonful of laugh-out-loud moments of sugar from David Harbour to help make the medicine go down. It's a self-aware, serious, action-comedy that never sacrifices story to make its point, and never talks down to the audience even if it has to be a bit more obvious for four-quadrant viewers.

By the time Havoc ended, I felt as exhausted as Hardy's beaten and bruised character. I suppose Evans and company deserve some credit for making an action movie that really leans into the brutality, but there's only so much of that you can put up with before it starts to grow tedious.

The filmmakers have made a movie which, while not being particularly deep, manages to be fresh, engaging, creepy and fun. For a mainstream horror flick adapted from a game, that's a feat in and of itself, but what gives "Until Dawn" extra heft is its meta, existentialist twist on the monster mash, making the film not the best, but the most horror movie of the year.

This is a one-of-a-kind experience that simply doesn't come around very often. Hyperbole or not, I'm willing to bet we'll be talking about "Sinners" for a long time to come.

The film is undeniably at its best when grappling with the push and pull of technology versus old-school espionage.

Hess and his army of screenwriters (only five are credited) have taken the wisest possible route with their adaptation: A Minecraft Movie is a broad, slapstick farce without a hint of seriousness, reverence, or coolness. The most shocking thing? It's not terrible. 

While there may be a few folks out there for whom Hell of a Summer gives them a chill, the majority of horror fans probably won't find themselves too fearful. What Bryk and Wolfhard have here instead is one of the coziest horror movies in recent memory, one which instantly feels charming from the start.

Warfare is downright experimental in its presentation, daring even in how it bucks form and structure. As an experience, it cuts to the bone.

There's a place for brainless, R-rated action movies like this in theaters, and there always will be. But, hopefully, it's not asking too much for one that properly justifies the average moviegoer's time and hard-earned money.

Produced by horror legend Sam Raimi and a remake of the Argentinian film "4x4," your mileage may vary with "Locked," an intimate piece with dedicated performances and a weirdly relatable thematic core, but thrills leaving much to be desired.

Ultimately, Snow White is better than "Beauty and the Beast" and "The Little Mermaid" — by a long shot — but it's not as good as Branagh's "Cinderella" or Burton's "Dumbo." And, sadly, it overall still bears the boring sheen of a corporate mandate. This is another cynical enterprise, tapping into certain nostalgic images in the hopes that we'll pay for the same high we had as children.

There's nothing offensively bad about The Alto Knights ... but you kind of wish there was, because at least that might've made the movie more interesting.

When it comes to Nicolas Cage movies where he fights insurmountable odds while losing his mind, The Surfer is a great time.

Friendship is a delightful, vulnerable, agonizing film, and it's a new career height for Tim Robinson.