If this overheated phantasmagorical whirligig didn’t quite set my heart on fire, thanks in large part to Butler’s mesmerizing magnificence, I still couldn’t have stopped falling in love with Elvis even had I wanted to try.

Spiderhead is a great Twilight Zone or Black Mirror scenario, only one that offers up a terrific idea, asks several fascinating questions, and then frustratingly doesn’t know how to reach a satisfying resolution.

As slight as Good Luck to You, Leo Grande is, there is something so distinctly personal about what Brand and Hyde are doing that it’s doubtful their sublime little comedy-drama will dissipate from my memory anytime soon.

Lightyear is nonsense, but it is frequently enthralling nonsense.

Jurassic World Dominion is dumb without the fun, and that just makes me sad.

The gleefully anarchic and exuberantly pitch-black The Passenger is a dangerously nasty horror comedy that got under my skin.

Crimes of the Future is a futuristically retro slice of body horror that left me speechless. It is a twisted descent into madness, refusing to coddle its audience or offer up a single happy ending. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Fire Island has no business being as good as it is.

A Die Hard clone set inside a top-secret military installation that’s the last line of defense against Russian nuclear aggression, high-octane actioner Interceptor is a waste of time.