Reviews

Guy Ritchie abandons his signature nonlinear storytelling for a bland, level-by-level quest narrative that feels formulaic and uninspired. Aside from a few glimpses of his trademark British wit, there’s little here that reflects his directorial identity. The result is a disjointed, emotionally flat film that plays like a checklist of genre clichés.

Arrogant CEOs aren’t rare, especially those with elite academic credentials. What’s striking here is that Rush personally piloted the submersible time and again, suggesting he genuinely believed in it. If you step into his shoes—a man so convinced of his vision, so sure he could defy odds—it’s easy to imagine that at some point, even he began to believe his own myth.

This is the heartbreaking story of two working-class Black boys and their families, pursuing their dreams of playing basketball over six years. What begins as aspiration turns into quiet resignation. Ironically, this documentary tells a more compelling story than most scripted films. The risk was enormous—the filmmakers had no idea where these boys’ lives would lead—but the result is striking.

The production is impressive. The action sequences are riveting, with gunfights and car chases staged for maximum intensity. The use of long takes and real explosions adds a visceral impact that makes the experience all the more immersive.

The plot follows a familiar formula and steps away from its horror roots, yet it’s far more enjoyable than expected. While the script doesn’t offer major surprises, M3GAN herself remains a compelling presence and easily carries the film as a popcorn crowd-pleaser.

Stripped of its classical exterior, this is still a quintessential Éric Rohmer film, delving into themes of desire and morality. The real intrigue lies in whether the Marquise herself knows who the child’s father is. The story unfolds with unresolved tension, exposing the hypocrisy of pretenders and testing the bonds of upper-class families. The art direction and cinematography are exceptional, adopting a more austere approach compared to Rohmer’s usual French-romance style.

This is the most brilliant Éric Rohmer film I’ve seen, overflowing with his singular, enchanting charm. Its painterly texture and composition, polite yet heartfelt performances, and the unexpected twist Rohmer plants keeps you fully engaged. The movie’s optimistic view of love—alongside its probing exploration of desire and morality—flows effortlessly through the dialogue. When it’s over, you’re left with one clear sensation: pure comfort.

Imagine being trapped in a sealed-off space, with human nature tormented by despair—escape-room thrillers always hook me. The Escape Plan series did that brilliantly; I’ve been waiting to see Sylvester Stallone bust out since the first film. But this third entry is so bad that its clumsy script tanks the entire confined-thriller concept, leaving viewers completely disinterested!

Even sloppier than the second one! They ditch the high-tech prison for a rundown set that’s huge on the outside but barely utilized. And Sylvester Stallone—the so-called “prison-break expert”—never even gets locked up, so there’s no escape—just two fight scenes with Dave Bautista, and that’s it. At just 80 minutes, there are zero twists and no real thought put into any breakout plan. It’s pure, bloody, violent B-movie fare. Couldn’t they hire a screenwriter who actually knows how to tell a story?

Is this film really necenssary? It supposedly aligns with George Clooney’s freewheeling ethos. It’s an intensely personal film.

This film based on Lily Brooks-Dalton’s novel Good Morning, Midnight, unfolds in parallel between the Arctic and space, peppered with flashbacks. It captures the loneliness of a world cut off in apocalypse, and how love and faith become redemption and healing. It’s not hardcore sci-fi; what matters most are the characters’ inner journeys rather than the exact fate of Earth.

I still got creeped out. I’m not a fan of seeing multiple Chuckys on screen and, having skipped part 5 and 6, the continuity’s a bit fuzzy—but it’s still fun. The gore hits the sweet spot, and the asylum scenes amp up the absurd terror.

The film attempts to build franchise lore, complete with a hypnosis gimmick, but it doesn’t hold a candle to its predecessor.

American family drama is back. From the tension of the opening shot to the rich color palette, soundtrack choices, and its take on “middle-class meltdown,” Trey Edward Shults masterfully resurrects the spirit of Douglas Sirk for today’s audiences.

This movie is a visual feast—the set design, lighting, and camera moves deserve praise. But most flashy tricks like the frequent aspect-ratio shifts seem more about looking “cool” than actually serving the story, and whether they achieve the intended effect is debatable. Still, the psychedelic neon aesthetic is pushing genre boundaries and blending with traditional cinematic language in diverse ways.

Believe it or not, it’s kind of a family drama— the son-mother dynamic is heart-rending. The matricide scene is laden with emotion; you can feel years of anger after decades of lies. And the zombie slaying is cathartic in its craziness. P.S. The special effects are hilarious—more gross than scary.

It turns out young Peter Jackson dabbled in this outrageously gory zombie B-movie. The first half feels surprisingly artistic; the back half barrels into gruesome excess—like a Quentin Tarantino fever dream. The special effects are so over-the-top they made my stomach churn. Honestly, it’s probably the most disgusting horror movie I’ve ever seen.

Musicals are my jam—when I don’t want to think, a song-and-dance flick is always my go-to!

The more movies you make, the less creative you are. Now that the fifth part is filmed, I feel that the director is a bit like a traitor, and the choreography is done, and his appearance has also decreased.

This film never breaks out of the standard horror tropes—the same clichés have all been done before. It’s nothing more than a competent, average scare-fest. The moment the underground creatures show up, the movie falls apart. They might have done better if they have leaned into the B-movie vibe and cut costs.