Patel’s passion project Monkey Man is a big swing, and a big swerve for the actor. Luckily, it connects, landing with a satisfyingly bone-crunching intensity. And if the movie is intended as Patel’s calling card, he leaves the whole damn deck on the table.

The CGI is off the leash. The manufactured chaos is unrelenting. Monsters punching monsters. The pyramids are peril. Awesome deconstruction there.

Everything about Rose Glass’ violent revenge thriller Love Lies Bleeding is unexpected; you watch it as if strapped into a roller-coaster car, not sure when the next dip or swerve might be.

The fourth time is truly the charm in this long-running franchise.

A knowledge of the novel is helpful as well.

A magnificent work of minimalism, the film is about these minute moments just as it’s about the most existential parts of life.

I.S.S. may be a bit untethered, unsure of what it wants to be and what it wants to say, but it’s worth the voyage regardless.

The funniest element of what vaguely gestures toward dark comedy is how poorly written this story about writers is.

Do yourself a favor and go see The Crime Is Mine, a delicious bit of French froth from master director François Ozon.

An emotional authenticity courses through the veins of Suncoast, the filmmaking debut of Laura Chinn.

We’re reminded, in this warmhearted film’s moving final act, that food can bring not only joy but, in the darkest of days, hope.

By the end, it’s made glaringly obvious that the people who made Madame Web intended it to be the prelude to sequels featuring the three proto Spider-Women. Spare us.

Ultimately, Argylle is mostly bad CGI, action sequences that go by so fast you wonder what Vaughn is trying to hide, and a lot of strange tangents.

So there’s not a single surprise along the way. But there is the comfort of familiarity operating in the movie’s favor. And it’s fun.

It’s all big action. Big colorful visuals. Outsized vocal performances.

Through it all, Scott gives one of the year’s best performances, creating life in small moments.

Humongous undersea cities, enormous herds of aquatic creatures and a superabundance of monsters are laid before the viewer. The goal: Make people go, “Wow!” Pardon me, but the overall effect is more like, “eh.”

It’s a sharp, pointed satire that’s also very funny.

You watch hoping that the always-splendid Condon, an Oscar nominee last year for “The Banshees of Inisherin,” is getting a really good paycheck, and wondering why writer/director Bryce McGuire saw fit to expand his very effective four-minute 2014 film “Night Swim” into this soggy mess. Don’t go in the water, indeed.

It kind of gives you a sense of whiplash, oscillating between the glory of professional victories, the miasma of personal grief and the nexus where those two often meet.

Bazawule slowly but surely lifts us up, letting us soar with the cast by the end.

This movie, while perhaps not quite as charming as the 2000 original “Chicken Run” (lightning rarely strikes twice, even on chicken farms), is a hoot.

The Boys in the Boat is ultimately a tribute to a time long gone, to the power of teamwork, and to the grace with which an oar dips into the water on a sun-dappled lake.

Often beautiful, never pretty, occasionally creepy and perpetually surprising, Poor Things lives in Stone’s fiery eyes; her performance is, to borrow Bella’s words, a changeable feast.

Wonka is the kind of movie that’s full of moments of enchantment.

It’s a film full of creative swirls.

Twenty-five years in the making, this warmhearted, generous film is a quiet masterpiece — the very specific story of one family, but one in which many of us can find our own.

As far as truly caring about anything that goes on in this epic, well, that’s a chore. And with a run time of more than 2½ hours, that chore becomes ever more burdensome as the minutes tick away.

Limited by his budget, Woo makes the most of what he has, but the whole thing feels like he’s cautiously dipping his toe back in the Hollywood pool.

There is real passion in DeBose’s vocal performance as she tries to elevate the rote music. I just wish she were in a better movie.

If atmosphere is what you want in a movie, Emerald Fennell's psychological thriller Saltburn has enough to fill a multiplex all by itself.

By the time the big reveal comes along, it’s almost beside the point. The audience, so numbed by the gore, is likely to barely care who indeed did it.

Mostly Next Goal Wins just plods along, agreeable and familiar and instantly forgettable.

You leave the film knowing that you’ve met a hero, but that this remarkable man deserved more.

The pieces still come together to reveal a thorny portrait of how little a push it takes to create a villain.

May December is often weirdly funny.

The Killer is both disappointing and satisfying, with pleasure and competence to be had.

DaCosta whisks us through the story with plenty of wit, particularly from Kamala’s family.

If you go expecting a slightly quirky romantic drama with touches of magic realism, not to mention the pleasure of seeing Ryan in one of her rare screen appearances these days, I think you might leave happy.

It’s the kind of movie in which stories are conveyed wordlessly through a half-smile, a droopy posture, a man who looks for just a few seconds like he might cry but doesn’t — a film made all the more heartwarming for the work it takes to get to its heart.

Coppola tells the story through lush mood, meticulous art direction, swimmy music (not Presley’s) and her two actors’ gloriously big-screen faces.

As an homage to Friedkin’s movie, Green’s take is respectful and genuinely scary. Let those tubular bells chime forth in celebration.

Anatomy of a Fall is anchored by the powerfully present Hüller, who bleeds and breathes into the environment, even as she stands out.

The game, propelled by twitchy point-of-view camera work and abundant jump scares, is fast-paced. The movie is anything but.

A more self-impressed movie than Dicks: The Musical would be hard to imagine.

“Killers” is a master class in filmmaking, taught by that one professor we all had in college whose every word we hung on, and whose classes always felt too short. It’s that thing we always look for but so rarely find: a great story, beautifully told.

It wants to make a joke at its source material’s expense, but all it ever accomplishes is making you want to watch those classics instead.

There are lots of ideas rattling around in it — about artificial intelligence, about racism, about American aggression on the world stage, about the future of humanity. And rattle and clang they do. And also clunk. The various elements are not well integrated.

The gunplay is primary though there are some obligatory scenes of martial arts fights.

We may know how this strange saga ends, but Dumb Money will make you feel something, too. Whether that’s jubilation for the Davids or rage at the Goliaths, well, isn’t that kind of the point?

An engaging picture brimming with uplift.

As always, it’s a pleasure to watch Branagh’s Poirot as he watches, never missing a thing; may he return, with a more worthy corpse next time around.

The stories of growing up and finding yourself remain the same, but it’s the moving performances and specific details embroidered on this one that make it so special.

Toula and Ian are sweet and bland; their relatives are predictably wisecracky, and the whole thing just feels like watching someone’s extremely well-produced vacation video.

In all honesty, Gran Turismo isn’t much more than marketing for the video game coated with a cheer-inducing veneer. But for two hours, you, like Jann, can feel the rest of the world fall away and experience something joyful. It’s predictable yet infectious, charming if a little cheesy at times.

As Finley manages a last unassuming gut punch, it strikes painfully true. It provides one final drop of mundane dread that reveals how the most comprehensively exploitative of systems can become terrifyingly normal. Good thing that’s only science fiction.

Interspersed with the overabundant slam-bang action sequences which up the silliness factor with their increasing improbability are heartfelt paeans to the bracing solidarity of Jaime’s family. Their sincerity is the picture’s best element.

To paraphrase a song that pops up in the film — of course it does — during one of countless swoony moments, you can’t help falling in love with this movie.

Every plot twist is easily anticipated...The ending hints at the possibility of a sequel, but that’s a prospect that leaves one cold. As far as “Demeter” is concerned, enough is enough.

The cast is a delight — Cola, between this film and “Joy Ride,” is officially the funniest best friend of summer 2023 — and the film has some thoughtful things to say about identity, attraction, ambition and moving on.

A fast-moving, clever and funny picture.

Talk To Me isn’t just a splashy debut for the Philippou brothers, who prove their filmmaking chops in making the leap from the small screen to the big. It’s also an incredible introduction to a remarkable actress in a role that will undoubtedly prove to be an instant classic horror movie heroine.

Ultimately, Haunted Mansion feels like the ghost of a movie — just a fleeting shadow, one you can barely remember in the morning.

Oppenheimer is hard to watch, just as that life was surely hard to live; it’s a careful, deliberate stepping toward something unspeakable.

The Barbie world was a grown-up one — wildly sanitized and outfit-focused and unrealistic, but grown-up nonetheless — and, for a kid, an irresistible place to visit. Greta Gerwig’s exuberantly pink new movie “Barbie” both understands that thrill and has sly fun with it.

Along the way, we learn that all four actors are not only charmingly believable as friends but also brilliant at physical comedy.

Cruise valiantly throws everything he’s got into the movie — including a lot of his trademark Very Intense Running — and the result mostly works, but it feels like a franchise that’s winding down. Here’s hoping a few thrills have been saved for “Part Two.”

Holding it all together is Ford, his hair steel-gray, his face craggy, playing the part with authority. And this time he invests Indy with an inner depth not previously seen.

Megan Griffiths’ latest, I’ll Show You Mine, is impeccably filmed and thoughtfully written, but it doesn’t quite justify its running time.

This is Anderson soaring a bit, playing with the very nature of storytelling and performing, unafraid to let us get a little lost in the process. What’s real, and what’s the play? I wasn’t always sure, but I look forward to watching it again, to get lost one more time.

So why does Elemental feel so flat for much of its running time? Here’s why: It just isn’t very funny. The best Pixar movies blend humor with pathos; having just half of the formula leaves us with just half of the impact.

It’s a film full of quiet magic; of the power of words not spoken, and the enduring strength of love.

It’s nuts. It’s fun.

Director Caple Jr. takes his time allowing Ramos and Fishback to develop their characters as they fight being marginalized and dismissed in ‘90s New York. They’re no mere cardboard characters but rather fully dimensional individuals, a rarity in “Transformers” movies.

The movie becomes an immersive experience that sweeps the audience into all-encompassing venues of imagination.

Louis-Dreyfus, making Beth neurotic and loving and devastated and furious all at once, is a joy to watch.

Bailey gives a glowing performance of effortless starshine; her singing voice has both sweetness and power, and her smile is the sort on which dreams dance.

Though I’d have preferred Fast X to have a little more driving and a little less fighting, and was disappointed to realize that the film’s climactic moment is pretty much in the trailer, this movie is good, silly popcorn fun — with a couple of scenes at the end (stay put during the first half of the credits) indicating even better times ahead.

It may be treacly and unrealistic, but “Book Club: The Next Chapter” has heart and soul, and it’s as sweet and quaffable as an Aperol spritz on a hot day.

You know, there was a time when “Guardians of the Galaxy” was fun. That time was 2014, when the first picture came out... Now here’s “Vol. III.” And it’s no fun at all.

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret is both lovingly faithful to its source, and very much its own creation; how lucky we are to have both book and movie, preserved for girls past, present and future.

History almost erased Joseph Bologne; this film lets him live again.

There are pleasures to be found in Renfield, particularly a stylish black-and-white sequence early on, and in Hoult’s wistfully debonair portrayal of a well-meaning chap trapped in a job he never applied for. But even with its brief running time, the movie runs out of steam too quickly, and Awkwafina’s character in particular seems like a first draft

The style is busy, Affleck laying a heavy hand on the ’80s references and music cues, Robert Richardson’s cinematography mimicking the amateurish style of someone with a brand-new camcorder. But the pace flies, and the actors make the film wildly engaging.

Although the sense of being inside a video game is strong, one critical element is lacking: interactivity. Players are always working their controllers to send characters on their complicated journeys. They’re participants. A movie, by its very nature, turns everyone into spectators. We watch, but have no control over what we see. And what we see in “The Super Mario Bros. Movie” is nothing more than empty-calorie visuals.

It’s a world of fantasy, but as depicted in Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, it has a solidity and imaginative depth that makes it seem astonishingly real.

It’s a feel-good film about dreams, about obsession, about believing in yourself when nobody else seems to be doing it for you, and Hawkins carries it with effortless ease.

It is as if Pugh is having to push her way through narrative waters that threaten to wash away her performance. No matter how she continues to rise to the challenge, the film’s cascading of contrivances drown her out.

Directed once again by Chad Stahelski, the one-time stunt man who has become a first-rate visual stylist and master of pacing over the years of directing “Wicks,” “Chapter 4” is dazzling.

With scenes of epic destruction uncorked with numbing frequency, the picture drags. It’s two hours and 10 minutes long and you feel every last second.

Ultimately, Moving On is about friendship, and who better than Grace and Frankie to show us that?

How you feel about the psychological thriller Insider may depend on how you feel about spending the better part of two hours staring nonstop at Willem Dafoe.

The fat suit is in a sense a distraction in that you wonder how Fraser was able to act within it. But the fact that he does so and so effectively makes The Whale a searing, moving experience.

Returning directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett show they have an eye for immersing us in well-constructed set pieces that earn their terror and are all distinct from each other.

One scene cuts right to the next, eschewing a typical progression of shots or exposition to instead just let us observe the little details. It creates an arresting experience that feels as if we are merely witnessing memories fading into each other as Sandra tries to find solace amid her growing sadness.

You can see clearly in the final scenes where “Creed IV” might be headed; you can also see that Jordan as a director shows promise well beyond this film. “Creed III” works as well as it needs to, and for the umpteenth film in a franchise, that’s more than enough.

As a creature feature, Cocaine Bear isn’t bad. Not great, mind you. But not bad.

This Emily is indeed unworldly, uncomfortable around strangers, struggling to comply with what society expects of her. And yet the artist bubbles up inside her, emerging at moments both inconvenient (there’s a harrowing sequence at a party in which Emily dons a mask and takes on a ghostly persona) and poetic.