In less than 90 minutes, My Old Ass covers a lot of fertile territory, with barely a false beat and precious little nonsense.

A lot of people are going to have a grand time watching Transformers One. Sadly, I am not one of them.

This Speak No Evil may not sever the jugular, but it does leave a handful of cuts and bruises. Sometimes that’s enough. This is one of those times.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice gets so much right it’s easy to gloss over the majority of its more obvious missteps.

Was Abraham Lincoln Gay? I have no idea. But Lover of Men does a fine job of pondering this question as best it can.

As heists go, the only thing 1992 stole was just over 90 minutes of my time.

Between Backcountry, Pywacket, and now Out Come the Wolves, I suspect that heading out into the woods with director Adam MacDonald could be an exceptionally bad idea.

There is a beauteously ruthless toxicity to Mollner’s cruel world that’s honestly glorious, and for those that get on his wavelength, Strange Darling is a great deal of malicious fun.

I felt like watching Crescent City was a waste of my time, and as far as I’m concerned that says it all.