While many view Ghostbusters (1984)as a masterpiece that its 2016 reboot fails to live up to, I consider them both mixed bags and even enjoy the reboot more.
You Will Die at Twenty is a gorgeously crafted, melancholic exploration of what it means to live, what it means to die, and how the two intersect.
Though The Secret of Sinchanee ends up being less than the sum of its parts, the acting, atmosphere, and core themes still make it a decent thriller.
Dear Evan Hansen boasts excellent songs and performances, but they struggle against the film’s difficulty in handling the sour taste of its story.
James Wan’s Malignant tries so hard to scare and shock its viewers that it forgets to figure out what it even wants to be.
David Bruckner’s The Night House crawls its way under your skin with a powerful lead performance and frightening mysteries, if not the greatest answers.
The Man Who Sold His Skin explores the ugly treatment of humans for the sake of art and power, and a man who risks trading his soul alongside his skin.
The Marvel Cinematic Universe has kept me coming back for years. But its flaws have piled up, and that track record has reached its end.
Josh Ruben’s Werewolves Within juggles genre and tone to deliver a moderately pleasing diversion for fans of comedy and horror.