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While there may be one or two too many callbacks to the first film and a couple of unnecessary subplots, the sequel doesn’t rely entirely on nostalgia, nor does it strip away everything that made the original great. Maybe it’s not a perfect balance, but it’s pretty close to it. I don’t think I’ll be quoting this one as frequently as the first, but I certainly see myself grabbing some popcorn and peanut M&M’s for a pretty epic double-feature in the future.

As one of the year’s most delightful surprises, The Sheep Detectives is a charming, smart, and sincerely heartfelt whodunit that proves even the smallest voices can carry the biggest stories. But best of all, it’s also the kind of film you don’t expect to love this much and one you won’t forget anytime soon!

Though Apex's story largely just updates survivor-thriller tropes we've seen many times before, it's effective enough in its repackaging that it's certainly worth firing up on Netflix during a lazy night in. The physicality of Theron's performance, along with the film's vertigo-inducing cinematography, ultimately make Apex an adventure vacation from hell worth taking.

Michael may not rewrite the musical biopic, but it does just enough to set itself apart and inject a bit of new life into the genre by leaning into the family drama at its core. The performances are top-tier across the board, with Valdi and Jackson immediately becoming stars to watch and Domingo and Long proving once again why they’re considered two of the best in the business. The level of craftsmanship — from the hair and makeup to the costumes and production design — is unmatched, helping to compensate for a weaker screenplay and inconsistent direction.

Unfortunately, Lee Cronin's The Mummy is so focused on replicating other horror movies and relying on familiar tropes that it honestly has very little in common with the bandaged monster it's supposed to be about.

It's fairly common for creature features to be populated by characters we feel little to nothing for: flat, cardboard people whose only real purpose is to fill the runtime until they get eaten. Thrash does a solid job of avoiding this standard pitfall.

For all its visual polish and strong performances, Faces of Death remains caught between commentary and replication. It wants to critique our obsession with violence, but it can’t quite resist indulging in it, too. The result is a film that feels acutely aware of the cultural moment it inhabits, yet strangely hesitant to push beyond it.

Outcome is clearly coming from a personal place for Hill. It doesn't come across as too bitter or full of self-pity, but the point of the movie is never made fully clear. It moves at too quick a pace to leave much of an impact, and it's a bit of a tonal nightmare.

I imagine there are a select few out there whose taste in comedy earnestly leans towards the likes of dadaism, and they might find actual humor in this almost anti-comedic story. There are perhaps a few more who will get the odd sensible chuckle out of the movie and forget it ever existed within a month.

The movie isn't reinventing the wheel — it is ultimately a love story that plays with familiar tropes in a beautiful setting. But it does remind audiences why we love these movies in the first place.