Wearily Wading Through Avatar: The Way of Water
Avatar: The Way of Water is a monument to James Cameron’s business model but stutters on every other artistic or dramatic criterion imaginable.
Avatar: The Way of Water is a monument to James Cameron’s business model but stutters on every other artistic or dramatic criterion imaginable.
Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio shimmers with excited physical energy but never coordinates its new story ideas with its old moral responsibilities.
The Pale Blue Eye has the cast of a masterpiece and the script of a write-off. It’s inoffensive afternoon viewing, but Poe would have his name removed from it.
The 1951 version of Scrooge effortlessly recreates its candleglow world. This classic story has never been better.
The unassailable influence of Stanley Kubrick’s horror staple hides its dramatic shortcomings behind an illusion of prestige.
Star Wars: The Last Jedi continues to be debated out of passionate frustration. This is an exploration of what’s right and wrong with this bizarre movie.
Luhrmann’s obsession with the image of Elvis creates an issue of authenticity. He makes people love the icon without believing in the man.
A Quiet Place Part II tries to squeeze more sequence out of a great concept. It succeeds despite straining for believability amid conflicting rules.
Rob Zombie makes a twisted costume contest nightmare out of an idea of The Munsters that never overcomes its lack of inspiration or its cast’s shortcomings.
The infamously misunderstood Halloween III is still little more than an unrefined pseudo-thriller on its own merits, unworthy of seasonal contention.
Halloween Ends has the power to finish its cluttered horror series meaningfully, even if this isn’t what some of the series’ fans were hoping for.
Werewolf by Night struggles for clarity within the constraints of an homage, sequel, origin story, and TV special in one. But it’s fun to watch it try.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers remakes a great B-movie with intellectual terror. It knows that irony makes it even scarier. This is pure horror joy.
Peter Dinklage is a powerful force for good in an otherwise listless adaptation that misinterprets whatever it doesn’t omit entirely.
Samaritan accepts on faith that the audience thinks Stallone is a superhero. His charm, and almost nothing else, makes it sporadically watchable.
Sin is a portrait of an artist in pain, with god-defying amounts of melancholy. Lovers of classic art cinema will enjoy this more than he enjoyed himself.
Lightyear was so tangled in its struggle for effective marketing that every aspect of its filmmaking became a lower, or nonexistent, concern.
Prey expresses a strong period aesthetic powered by fresh performances but relies on a screenplay that misplaces its series’ core values.
This well-endowed Macbeth strives for greatness without the stomach for it. Stylized visuals can’t cover for all the meaning it misses.
Zack Snyder’s Justice League delivers on the promise to release every second of footage shot for its original cut, for better and not much better.
The House shimmers with collective angst, a nightmare only stop-motion could make. So why does it make me feel so happy?
Black Widow approaches genuine dramatic insight in parts but fails to make its title character more interesting than the performance is by default.
The final episode of Obi-Wan Kenobi gets everything to where it was going. Not even its best part could be worth the wait.
Part V continues Obi-Wan Kenobi’s habit of steamrolling plausibility with reverse-engineered plot directions, with a small twist.
Despite triumphant performances and high ambitions, Everything Everywhere All at Once hopes to be so well-understood that it overexplains its triumphs away.
So far, Obi-Wan Kenobi seems to be relying more on Star Wars fans to be excited in the absence of creativity than on its own inspiration or technical ability.
The much-maligned Prometheus hides an epic sci-fi fable despite failing to satisfy its own ambitions. Fassbender is genre-defining.
Godzilla: King of the Monsters avoids the essence of its brand almost as aggressively as it avoids working on its script.
The Revenant is a powerful statement on cinematic realism affected but not marred by its real toil. It’s old cinema made epic again.
Interstellar’s brilliant technical filmmaking hinges on a story thwarted by melodrama. Its head is full of ideas, but its heart is empty.