The Turning is a failed ghost story on almost every conceivable level with a third act that's flat-out unforgivable.

Yes it's "Alien but underwater," and that's a good thing given how a top-notch Kristen Stewart leads us on a terrifying dive into the deepest reaches of aquatic horror.

The Grudge feels like "just another remake," which is a shame with such a previously style-forward director at the helm.

Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker suffers the misfortune of having a director who cares more about digging up a franchise's past than moving forward with an original story.

While watching 1917, there’s a sense that you’re waiting for a fresh take or an interesting point that never comes. Audiences don’t need this movie to tell them that war is hell. But for those striving to get closer to experiencing that hell, Deakins and Mendes achieve something few war films before them have. They just needed a grander reason for doing so.

Black Christmas deserves to be a better slasher satire propelled by empowerment than the messy, tonally obstructed holiday dud we're gifted.

While its well-founded intentions and creative intuitions are palpable, not even a tortuously acrobatic performance from Aaron Taylor-Johnson saves A Million Little Pieces from consistently sober storytelling.

Doctor Sleep is a conflicted and unwieldy sequel attempting to unite worlds (King and Kubrick) while telling an original story from yet another filmmaker's viewpoint (Flanagan) that never blends together.

Any misgivings bestowed upon Ford V Ferrari by the script are, more or less, eliminated by the film’s big draw: the racing. Gloriously calibrated, simply designed, and modestly edited, audiences are reminded of the dynamite, nearly natural relationship automobiles share with filmmaking.

The Irishman is delicately handled by experienced, especially-inspired makers. It’s simply the kind of film that isn’t made too often anymore; and it’s one of the best this year has to offer.

Terminator: Dark Fate is a good Terminator franchise entry by comparison, but still falls into many of the pitfalls that modern reboots/remakes/sequels struggle to sidestep when balancing nostalgia with hyper-CGI action.

Gomez-Rejon’s The Current War is unfortunately neutralized by Mitnick’s artless script.

Hustlers is intoxicating, surreal and a party you never want to end. It also helps when you have great actresses. Everyone here dances off screen and into our hearts. That goes for Lopez in particular.

Dolemite Is My Name belongs to Murphy.

A simple and simply satisfying seal, El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie will, in no way, tarnish the alchemic legacy of its TV precursor, though it doesn’t do much to enhance it.

Edward Norton mines political relevance in some areas of noir-drenched New York and completely ignores it in others. As a result, Motherless Brooklyn becomes Chinatown’s outshined, ugly stepbrother.

Blazingly and brilliantly over the top, Jojo Rabbit’s total dismissal of subtlety is its most ferocious ally and, only occasionally, its most frustrating foe in the war against hate.

Zombieland: Double Tap winks and nudges its way through a long-time-coming sequel, but earns its survival badges when cracking wits around new casts of characters.

Every typical category of film analysis – the performances, the cinematography, the score, the wit, so on and so forth – needn’t be labeled as anything less than great.

Elegant and entrapping, muddy and magnificent, Monos is a thrilling, if ambiguous endeavor of guerilla warfare, human nature, and adolescent anarchy.

Between the split bones and compulsive carnage, a disjointed script, co-written by Stallone and Matthew Cirulnick, makes Rambo: Last Blood mindless and messy.

3 From Hell is an ugly example of too much wicked style over zero intended substance.

As a timely testament to our willingness to validate and support rather than investigate, White Lie is both insightful and terrifying.

While it takes a few too many cues from similar coming-of-age tales, Honey Boy offers audiences an egoless dissection of Shia LaBeouf’s side of his own story.

A rebirth for both actor and director, Pain and Glory sees Banderas and Almodóvar at the peak of their electric, heart-wrenching capabilities.

Any hint of sappiness in the neighborhood is squashed by Hanks’ paralyzingly delightful turn as Mister Rogers in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood.

A macabre masterpiece, Joker’s social relevance may be disputed for years, but the film and its star may never be denied the grandeur of their cinematic revolution.

For 130 minutes, the writer-director disorients and delights, confidently trailblazing through his murder mystery two, maybe even three steps ahead of the audience. This isn’t a simple, direct testament to the slick, sidesplitting script, nor the fully committed, second-to-none ensemble, but rather a passed inspection of these cogs and their ability to form a purely entertaining experience.