The story might play out like a missed opportunity in some ways, as it’s staggering that a movie in which Jamie Foxx fights vampires can be so set on killing its fun with backstory. But while the worst parts of Day Shift want to be cute with all of this, Perry’s movie is saved by the inner bad-ass that comes out when it matters most.

They/Them lacks an overarching perspective on the very nature of conversion therapy practitioners, perhaps because it is so straight-jacketed by the Blumhouse house style. In search of topicality for its audience, it sacrifices authenticity to itself.

It’s a classic “Predator” film in many ways, subverting the paradigm slightly by featuring a new context: a Native American female warrior at its center, Naru (a persuasive Amber Midthunder, full of conviction). But as fresh as Prey does feel in this new warpaint on the surface, the film does feature a lot of inherent, built-in limitations.

Adopting a fly-on-the-wall approach that prioritizes Muñoz’s subjectivity — sometimes to a fault — Mija is nevertheless a personal and sincere portrait of Muñoz’s struggles, and her ability to adapt in the face of changing social and professional upheavals.

This is not the return to form Leitch needs, and that’s mostly because the well-crafted fight scenes are surrounded by so much other nonsense. The picture wants to be a manic action-comedy freight train, but it has exactly three jokes.

The Blue Caftan deftly explores the complexities of interpersonal and romantic relationships. Halim, Mina, and Youssef share a love for each other and for their shared craft. They want to find happiness in this life without any regard for how society dictates they should. Touzani’s film is a rich, vibrant ode to love in all its many forms.

Shephard’s film is a half-baked thinkpiece on cancel culture in search of a plausible narrative. While hitching her ideas to a scammer story, it loses the thread in a sea of topicality. No matter the potency contained in portions of her message, “Not Okay” is muddled by her delivery through the wrong medium

Even when this film is a bit too neat, it’s still totally irresistible.

Thirteen Lives is not an exhibition of spectacle in scale or execution. It neither skirts over details too quickly nor goes too deep into technical aspects, arming the audience with enough to know how much is at stake and why. It’s an examination and dramatization of adversity and the complexity, strength, and resilience of the human spirit, which perfectly draws characterizations that avoid hammy tropes and tired stereotypes.

Kusijanović storms out of the gate with a confident coming-of-age tale full of relationships as rocky as the craggy Croatian coast in which the story unfolds.

Directors Ha and Yi’s unflinching portrait of Lee is also admirable, as the movie shows the overall effects of a system indifferent to people who fall through its cracks. By staying with Lee and his story, from his early years in Korea, to his later years in America as an injured ex-convict, the documentary shows how the damage to Lee occurred, both as a death row inmate and a reluctant figurehead for the movement that coalesced around him.

A poetic meditation on film, history, and loss, Three Minutes – A Lengthening gives a glimpse into a lost world and then unpacks just how much can be learned from that brief fragment.

Like a poorly-researched presentation glued to the finest poster board and surrounded by glitter and shiny stickers, My Old School is easy enough on the eyes, but it’s hardly done the work necessary to earn top marks.

Though philosophically unsatisfying in the sum of its parts—it’s a murky mirror—“Nope” remains thoroughly exhilarating as further proof of Peele’s affinity for pushing the increasingly narrow limits of commercial cinema. It’s imperfectly refreshing.

Though heartbreaking to watch, if not triggering, Aftershock remains essential viewing as it reveals another, underseen front in the unending battle for equality in the United States.

The structure here is not about conventional pay-offs, and it does give Don’t Make Me Go its own distinct feeling, however familiar its pieces.

As a showcase of her creative process, as well as a dive into the repetition of touring, it’s a loving tribute to the artist and an invitation to listen to more of her music.

With Krige as its anchor, She Will offers moments of true greatness – and a few pointed barbs at ageism and patriarchal history, too. But as the two sides of Ghent are thrust uneasily together, Colbert struggles to sustain the pulsing rhythm at the heart of the film.

The beloved characters constructed by Austen are rendered insipid in this retelling that can’t quite seem to find its footing, trapped between a desire to dip into hip modernism and an inherent pull towards the original material.

The plot moves as briskly as a ship sailing across the sea, which should please young viewers. While The Sea Beast has some timely messages, it’s mainly just a chance to escape from our living rooms.

While it has its moments, a few good laughs, a few impressive thriller sequences, and Evans with his delectably douchey little trash stash, “The Gray Man” is generally an unremarkable swing and miss that wants the best of both worlds, but can’t really thread that needle.

There is minimal tension in spite of clear stakes, but because we never get closer to Kya than arm’s length, it never seems like she’s in any real danger. We are meant to side with her and empathize with her as the abused, underdog outsider in that fact of character alone. Nothing appears to simmer below the surface, and everything rings hollow because of it.

Thor: Love & Thunder can be enjoyable in spots, but disposably and inconsequentially so.

This movie, a forgettable indie aside from who directed it, offers sentiment, and its existence. That’s about it. Whether one is revolted or delighted by another C.K. production, Fourth of July is a dud.

Its soundtrack is enjoyable, and Dosunmu’s work with director of photography Benoît Delhomme is pleasing to the eye. However, the slightness and muddled storytelling of Beauty mar a film which at times feels it has something to say.

This notion, of the supervillain antihero and the gibberish-spouting minions who serve him, remains an awfully thin premise to hang a movie on – much less five of them.

The Man from Toronto could have been sharper with much more care all around, but a glaring problem comes from how Hughes isn’t a funny filmmaker. He might have the self-awareness to slap his name on a food processing plant that hosts the movie’s climactic kill, but his sense of making an action scene comedic is seriously lacking.

A rich, old-fashioned story spun out of modern themes and postmodern storytelling, this film’s decade-long, country-wide examination of art, life, love, and, yes, illusion, has the kind of tone that brings to mind “The Sweet Smell of Success.” It’s a film of smirks and surprises, not least of which is that director Giannoli has taken this material and given it a tragic spin.