RogerEbert.com

No new cinematic ground is broken here, and sometimes the narration strains to make Shantha’s story illustrate a larger point or articulate a unifying principle. But the sincerity of the exercise wins out. This is a loving portrait of a good man and, from all appearances, a daughter who carried her father’s values forward.

[Lane] raises thorny questions around the irreversible ways human beings’ livelihoods and infrastructure have damaged animals’ lifestyles and whether, in an age of distraction, human beings have the capacity to still be in awe of the world around them.

To be fair, the comedy works—its limitations come when it tries to juggle those jokes with sex and power.

While built on an excellent screenplay and grounded center, “Nightborn” falls victim to fatiguing its elements through overzealous, flustered execution.

It’s gloopy, gory, and greasy, which is all you might want from a zombie movie. But “Colony” feels like it wants to do more, and comes up short in the bargain.

In the end, “The Devil’s Mouth” commits the one sin no successful shark movie can afford: boredom. There is too little reason to care about these tourists, leaving only a survival story that Wadlow and his team fail to make compelling.

Dazzled by the stars of the deep sea, the film leaves us curious to know more about these light-dependent beings but also fulfilled in knowing that Dr. Widder’s work continues as she nourishes the next generation of marine biologists.

It’s the young cast (Holland, Zendaya, Sink, Batalon) and how Cretton works with them that really hold “Brand New Day” together, and make it feel different from a typical MCU flick.

Jana Nayagan assaults viewers with AI animation throughout, not only in big set pieces, but interstitial scenes featuring AI extras and even some AI-enhanced versions of the main cast members. This environmentally destructive and aesthetically displeasing technology enables many of the filmmakers’ worst ideas, which are only big in scale. And if AI art is the rancid icing on “Jana Nayagan”’s proverbial cake, it can’t be scraped off without taking most of the flavor and texture with it.

One would hope, in the absence of legible dialogue, the story, or at least its images, would find thematic purchase. Unfortunately, “Hot Spot” feels content to cycle through its hallucinogenic, albeit stylish, beats with the hazy remembrance of a dream.