Stylish, paranoid, and powered by an emotionally raw Britt Lower performance alongside astonishing cinematography and editing, Sender delivers one of the year's most memorable psychological thrillers.

Apologies to Pixar, Marvel Studios, Steven Spielberg, and Christopher Nolan, but this was my most anticipated theatrical event of the year. It was cool to see that I wasn’t alone.

Gillespie isn't an untalented filmmaker, but after already struggling with similar visual issues on Disney’s Cruella, it's difficult not to question whether he was the right choice for a project demanding this much large-scale spectacle.

Jackass: Best and Last embraces the passage of time. It celebrates everything that came before while recognizing that bodies eventually stop cooperating with the ambitions of twenty-year-olds. It’s not a defeat. It’s more like maturity - well, as much maturity as a movie featuring repeated attacks to the groin can possibly have.

A thoughtful, mournful deconstruction of a beloved legend filled with beautiful imagery and sincere ideas. But despite all of its craftsmanship and ambition, it often feels like well-traveled ground explored by more engaging stories before it.

You may not be able to explain every image or every choice, but you’ll remember how it felt. And for a film so deeply concerned with the ways trauma embeds itself into memory, that feels entirely appropriate.

A Midnight movie that understands horror not as spectacle, but as lived experience.

The rare film that repeatedly inspires cheers, gasps, winces, and laughter from its audience within the span of a single fight scene.

By the time the story finally arrives somewhere substantial, it has largely exhausted its momentum.

Buried beneath an overlong runtime, middling humor, and a bafflingly uneven tone is a genuinely entertaining fantasy adventure struggling to break free.

One of the most thoroughly fascinating works from one of America’s greatest filmmakers and the best extraterrestrial story put to screen since Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival.

Sadly, both Chum and Hungry serve as reminders that even the most reliable monster movie formula can easily go wrong.

Even when the answers fail to satisfy, the terror of wandering those endless yellow halls remains impossible to shake.

You may not love every second of it, but you’re certainly never going to confuse it for anything else.

One of the decade’s strongest horror films and an enormously confident statement from a filmmaker who already seems poised to become one of the genre’s defining new voices.

As a standalone story, One Last Kill feels a little thin, but as a brutal coda to the Netflix era and a reintroduction for whatever Marvel has planned next, it gets the job done.

No, it’s not a good movie. But it’s definitely an entertaining one.

A worthwhile, if imperfect, addition to McCarthy’s growing body of work. It may not hit with the same terrifying precision as Caveat or Oddity, but its atmosphere, craftsmanship, and willingness to linger in discomfort ensure that it’s never less than engaging.

Much like the series that influenced it like Twilight or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Mackay’s latest film defies standard genre definition and is instead something more fluid: part coming-of-age drama, part supernatural horror, and, most compellingly, a sensual, emotionally charged romance.

There’s something undeniably compelling about this version of The Mummy, even when it’s at its most uneven. Cronin fills the film with moments of pure horror that can make even the most hardened of horror veterans squirm in their seats.