Aside from the red stuff, the film is scarcely interested in what’s inside its characters.
Watcher gives a feminist twist to a throwback genre, but never does its topicality dilute its gripping suspense.
Maika Monroe’s engaging performance serves only to highlight how feeble and unconvincing the rest of the film is.
Throughout, J.K. Simmons invents the film with a primordial physicality of loneliness and self-loathing.
Jordan’s deft control of pace and tone elevates the film past mere gimmickry.
Like the teenagers at its center, Hot Summer Nights tries too hard to look cooler than it ever could be.
All eyes (at least most) are now on Timothée Chalamet.
The unvaried register of the filmmaking leads the narrative to feel aimless and dramatically inert.
Peter Landesman’s film is a kind of hagiography, and it leans toward whitewashing its subject’s legacy.
Independence Day: Resurgence does nothing satiric or fleetingly parodic with the notion of a world united in the midst of alien annihilation.
The sense that children’s attitudes toward militarization are being normalized is its objectionable given.
Though this wannabe in horror classic’s clothing is overrated by its cult, the film offers plenty of formal pleasures.
Though visionary, the film abounds in undigested ideas and dubious sexual politics.
It connects 1980s horror-movie nostalgia cleverly and implicitly to the real fears that haunt contemporary American life.
With The Guest, Adam Wingard announces himself as a conspirator of super-cool cine-pleasure.
Alternates between business-world morality play, family drama, and portrait of a local community without ever comfortably integrating these disparate elements into his messy stew.