Kristen Lopez

Verity is certainly the best of the Hoover adaptations we've gotten over the last two years, mostly thanks to Anne Hathaway. It's a solid notch about Lifetime movies, but far from the '90s erotic thriller heights. (Less Hand That Rocks the Cradle and more Malice.) It's a worthy reason to get some friends together, have some drinks, and giggle through the whole affair.

The script, though, is low-level, a satire that seems filtered through the poppy absurdity of Wes Anderson with a loose plot that can't seem to find its stride.

While it can seem like the movie is repeating much of what made The Last Wish work, Forgotten Island is still utterly amazing. A touching story of friendship and how "memories are magic" with a voice cast that adds dimension to some great characters. You'll want to take another trip to Forgotten Island immediately.

Anchored by a fantastic performance from Cregger alum Austin Abrams, what could have been a chintzy cash-grab ends up being a scary, breathless, and downright hilarious good time.

Being Heumann is an essential piece of disabled cinema, laying out a stark foundation for the fight for disability rights. It doesn't have the heartwarming charm of director Sian Heder's previous film, CODA, but has far more power and impact. Ruth Madeley is a revelation as Judy Heumann. Do I believe this movie will compel Hollywood to tell more disabled stories? No, sadly. But the fact that this movie exists at all is kind of a miracle.

The issue is a wonky script that feels Frankenstein-ed together into an uninspired patchwork of ideas. It feels like a movie that knows it's thirty years too late and just tries to make the best of things.

An inability to balance the tone, coupled with muted performance from the majority of the leads makes the runtime haphazard. The movie isn't consistently weird enough to be fun and isn't contemplative enough to be interesting.

There is a deeper meaning to the movie, and seeing the film's final image seemed appropriate for what the movie sought to explore.

It's not that The End of Oak Street is bad. It's just flagrantly copying better movies and TV shows. It's so determined to get '80s loving Spielberg guys that it doesn't really care if anyone else is interested.

The way Shoenbrun melds fantasy and reality, satire and absurdity, horror and romance is compellingly watchable and irreverent. Anderson and Einbinder carry the entire movie with aplomb leading to a third act that rips a hole between viewer, author, and character that's unshakable. (Also, this movie proves why we need more Donna Lewis songs playing.)