Jeremy Mathai

This is original, maverick, visionary filmmaking at its best — in other words, precisely the kind of adult-minded story we need far more of these days.

"Minus Zero" aims higher, dreams bigger, and branches out even wider than "Minus One" ever did — but such ambitions come at a cost. Inevitably, this leads to a somewhat shaggier sequel that sacrifices intimacy for intensity. While not a death blow by any means, what we're left with is a very, very good film falling just short of greatness.

A stylish, tense, and deeply thoughtful action thriller about faith, fatherhood, grief, and our innermost of conflicts.

Every so often, you can just sense when a movie is scrambling for a reason to exist. Forget Robin Hood. The Uprising ultimately has nothing interesting to say — about anything, really.

Every aspect of what follows is just as risky and boundary-pushing as the first half — it's simply one or two (okay, more like four or five) big swings too many. To both its credit and its detriment, Hope deserves credit for aiming high ... even if it can't stick the landing.

Sure, the screenplay may try a little too hard at times to celebrate Peter as the most gifted and special individual to ever live. But at least it makes him earn such a victory lap, genuinely putting him through the wringer in a story where might never makes right. Only empathy, sacrifice, and true heroism save the day.

In its desperate attempt to satisfy everyone, "The Mandalorian and Grogu" neglects to tell a meaningful tale worth anyone's time. Instead of the pulpy, thrill-a-minute adventure that was promised, "Star Wars" has never felt duller or more mundane. This ain't the way, folks.

Like its title character, this old hound finds new tricks and delivers a fitting "Peaky Blinders" coda that won't disappoint.

All of this is emblematic of a film that suffers from self-inflicted wounds at practically every turn. Lacking the cleverness of the original, the undeniable flair of the best of Wes Craven's sequels, and the crowd-pleasing thrills of the recent revivals, "Scream 7" is more or less dead on arrival. Maybe it should stay that way.

Mercy is a sight that may induce sore eyes, a punishing experience for those with even the lowest of expectations, and appears destined to land among the dregs of the year. But, worst of all, this feels like an alarming glimpse into a world I want no part of — one where our entertainment isn't so much as created by AI, but explicitly tailored for those who no longer care enough to see the difference. On the bright side, 2026 can't get any worse than this ... right?