It's a derivative bore, all popped collars, douchey bros and hand-me-down psychology, that gets its characters up to their necks in borrowed money just long enough to have it really hurt when the accounts run dry.

A slow-burn psychological thriller all too visibly wearing its cinematic influences on its sleeve, Beach House delivers suitably ominous atmospherics but doesn't seem to know where to go with them, ultimately resorting to familiar genre tropes.

Featuring appearances by a dizzying assemblage of well-known and estimable performers, A Happening of Monumental Proportions is a perfect example of a bad movie happening to good actors. The problem doesn't stem so much from Greer's helming but rather the painfully unfunny script by Gary Lundy.

Every conceivable button is pushed to achieve rote satisfaction in young viewers, while any notion of creating tension and suspense is dutifully ignored. Not for a moment is actual peril considered as something worthy of a dramatic climax.

The only thing missing from God Bless the Broken Road is compelling or believable drama.

The film’s cardinal sin isn’t so much that it’s unoriginal as that it’s so uninvolving it almost assures attention deficit will set in early.

Attempts scares and yucks in equal measure and fails to deliver either.

I Still See You is painful to watch, and having to learn all the new jargon only makes it feel like an academic chore.

Displaying an amateurishness that undercuts even its more promising elements, Hell Mountain is the sort of instantly forgettable cheapie effort that has become all too prevalent in movie theaters and VOD listings. This one is for hard-core horror movie completists only.

It's a reasonable premise for a horror film, but the execution is remarkably lackluster. The pacing is sluggish to such a point that viewers may quickly fear that they too will fall asleep and meet Mara themselves.

There's nothing inherently wrong with agitprop cinema, of which this is a prime example. But passion and righteousness are not enough to make a satisfying film. Cohesion and rational arguments are necessary as well.

It's almost unfathomable that this one made it through all the preliminary production meetings without someone sensibly calling a halt to the process by saying, "Wait a minute, those kitties are damn creepy!"

For all its vividly and realistically rendered graphic violence and gore, The Basement is an example of torture porn at its most ironic. It threatens to bore its audience to death.

Drowns in its own preciousness.

Sutton is aiming to make a grand statement about America's downtrodden, and he never lets you forget it.

Despite a fine cast featuring numerous screen veterans, this is a cliché-ridden effort that quickly runs out of gas.

Depicting the effects of a mysterious, ethereal stranger on the residents of a small town, Change in the Air proves frustrating and dull for most of its running time, displaying unwarranted confidence in its ability to cast a spell.

What spark there is in the movie comes in the scenes when Vivian and Nana are getting to know each other. Both actresses have a sweet chemistry and strong screen presences that you wish were better utilized.

Attempting to be a cautionary tale for the Airbnb era, the pic squanders its potential with ham-fisted execution.

Aiming for charm but instead coming across as hopelessly forced, Swimming With Men barely manages to stay afloat.

Hospitality is the sort of film that looks like a thriller, feels like a thriller and essentially plays out like a thriller. The only thing it forgets to do is provide any actual thrills.

Such an utterly routine, formulaic and forgettable example of its genre that watching it becomes an exercise in endurance. Even the always welcome presence of veteran actor William Fichtner, terrific as usual, isn't enough to save it.

Strictly for the most obsessive fans of the series, The Gilligan Manifesto mainly demonstrates the pitfalls of intellectuals having too much time on their hands.

It’s a film that wants to be visionary but isn’t.

The film has significant problems in the writing and direction, but the first challenge lies in the casting.

This talky, ham-fisted effort proves particularly disappointing because it should have been much better than it is.

There's barely a scene in IO that's performed with pulse or verve. It's Sad-Face Emoji Sci-Fi, with po-faced references to Greek mythology, Chopin and T.S. Eliot, among others, and empirical techno-jargon spoken at a Valley Girl level of credibility.

Writer-director Kelker never establishes a consistent tone, eventually aiming for a tragic conclusion that feels hopelessly unearned.