As entertaining as it may be to revel in the 1990s setting of it all, not updating the script makes The Little Things feel stale. The bad guys are one-note creeps; the men are stoic and violent; the women only exist to be either background noise or helpless victims. Even some 30 years ago all of this would’ve felt dated. Today, The Little Things has even less to offer.

Ultimately, The Marksman hits its generic target. It is the kind of film you watch on accident more than seek out, but you probably won’t regret the accident.

Much like the characters themselves, Pieces of a Woman is constantly chasing after what came before, only to never get it back.

Soul is dealing with themes that may even be beyond its grasp. The idea of creative passions becoming a reason for living has been a recurring thread through most Pixar films, but Soul attempts to dig deeper. And while it may not find one perfect discernible answer, it’s a search that feels inherently…soulful.

Through a phenomenal performance, chilling atmosphere and a terrific script, Spiral builds an experience that is as terrifying as it is depressingly timely.

If there ever was a role that played perfectly to Pascal’s natural charisma, it’s Maxwell Lord.

The drifting from town to town gives the whole thing an episodic feel, and as great as Hanks is, even his talents aren’t enough to distract us from the sheer predictability of what’s going on here.

The title says it all: Safety hits recognizable beats and never really challenges its setup, making for a maddeningly, mystifyingly safe crowd-pleaser.

The Midnight Sky is ambitious in its attempts at pathos. There’s the germ of something beautiful buried in here; a story trying to tell us that every last life is worth saving even if all seems lost. That’s something worth hearing, but The Midnight Sky fails to even get the conversation going.

The film somewhat fizzles out and doesn’t feel like it has a satisfying ending, but in a way, I wonder if that’s intentional. Insert Coin comes to a close suddenly, not unlike the arcade game renaissance of the 1990s. But it does leave you with the hope and inspiration of whatever the next generation of video games holds, even if it’s no longer powered by 25 cents.

When Let Them All Talk finally reaches its destination, it feels like another Soderbergh experiment. He literally took his cast on a cruise for the flick – shooting for two weeks with his cast improvising whenever they could. The journey is enjoyable – but oddly forgettable. It’s like a quick vacation that immediately starts to fade from memory the moment you return.

Most of what Disney+ has released among its live-action fare is the kind of mid-budget movie that served as the Disney studio’s bread and butter in the 1990s. Godmothered, even with its connection to the Disney fairy-tale universe, is very much in line with those watchable, wholly unremarkable films. It helps that Jillian Bell and Isla Fisher do their best in predictable roles, but the roles being so predictable is hard to look past.

If you’ve seen The Godfather Part III, you’ve essentially seen The Godfather, Coda. Those expecting something drastic, like Coppola’s Apocalypse Now: Redux, are going to be disappointed. Instead, the filmmaker has made little cuts here and there. Cuts that indeed make the lengthy film and its sprawling narratives a bit more concise – it’s eleven minutes shorter than the theatrical cut. And while that may make for a (slightly) brisker experience, it can’t fix all the problems that are irreconcilably baked into the film’s DNA.

It fails to be either funny or dramatic.

The Croods: A New Age is going through the motions, accomplishing the basic level of work required in pulling off a computer-animated feature. It’s a strange way to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday, even in a strange year like this.

A sensory overload, Sound of Metal is one of the most fascinating films you’ll see all year. Even when Darius Marder‘s lengthy character drama isn’t quite working – a problem that persists in the final act – it’s always engaging.

The film’s style is impeccable, its comedic delivery perfectly timed, and its editing sharp and energetic. A biopic by way of expressionistic absurdism, it’s a bold and uproariously funny statement of intent.

As haphazard and messy as The Mortuary Collection is, its bloody, ripped-out heart is in the right place.

Like Scream, Freaky understands and loves the horror movies that came before it. It takes these raw materials and molds them into its own unique identity, resulting in one of the most refreshing entries in the horror genre in a long time.

A creative reimagining sprinkled with fairy dust, Come Away succeeds on the strength of its whimsical (but not overly whimsical) script by Marissa Kate Goodhill and its impressive ensemble cast, and soars thanks to Chapman’s stellar direction. A new children’s classic has arrived, and this timeless fairytale will surely enchant audiences for generations to come.

Alexandre O. Philippe continues to impress by challenging what we knew of making-of documentaries with a poetic and lyrical film that’s as entertaining as its subject is eloquent, and a fascinating and thought-provoking as the horror classic that the documentary explores.

At first blush, Mank isn’t your typical David Fincher flick. Yes, it’s gorgeously mounted and meticulously crafted. But it doesn’t feel like Fincher’s other movies. And yet, when you look closer…it does. Because like all great Fincher films, Mank is about obsession. The obsession with getting something right. The obsession with creating good art. The obsessions with being remembered long after the whole world has faded to black.

Make no mistake about it, The Dark and the Wicked is by far the scariest movie at the Fantasia Film Festival, and its due in large part to Ireland’s neurotic catatonia. You find yourself holding your breath, waiting to see what spine-chilling event hovers just ahead, hiding behind a dark corner.

Its disquieting moments of magical realism paired with the all-consuming romance shared between Undine and Christoph — which feels as grand and tragic as the best cinematic love stories — add some warmth to Undine‘s chilly, cosmic exterior.

Great as our actual dads might be, they simply cannot compete with Costner. The guy perfectly hits all the right notes: honesty, dignity, quiet reserve, rugged Americana – all qualities we want in a hyperbolic father figure. Let Him Go exploits all this and reminds us of one other thing he’s good at: ass-kicking. But Let Him Go isn’t really Costner’s movie. Instead, it belongs to Diane Lane as his wife.

There is something about the humanity of this specific type of dread that seeps into your bones and hangs on for dear life. It’s the type of horror that taps into the fears we’re either too afraid to articulate, or would rather keep to ourselves lest we be judged.

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm is easily the funniest movie of 2020. That’s not exactly difficult in a year when there are barely any new comedies to challenge it for the title, but even in a year with stacked comedies, I’m confident this sequel would undeniably come out on top of the pack.

Under the Shadow is a tragedy as much as it is a horror film, and the heartbreak lingers long after the fears have been shaken off.