Kids will undoubtedly disagree with me on Jungle Cruise, and had I watched this one with eight-year-old eyes possibly I’d think differently about all this cartoonish hooey.

Szumowska and Englert have delivered something marvelously peculiar with Never Gonna Snow Again, and watching it with practically little foreknowledge of anything I was about to experience has been one of the more profoundly befuddling joys I’ve had this year.

Mortal Kombat never delivers on any of its promise, and I’m honestly not sure that if a sequel ends up getting made I’d want to take the time to watch it.

Some movies exist as if solely to make the viewer feel good. They’re not masterpieces. That’s Luca, and that’s wonderful.

Godzilla vs. Kong is a sensory feast.

Cruella is a heck of a lot of fun, and even at 134-minutes it still managed to keep my full attention for the most of its epic running time.

If Mortal Kombat lived up to the beauteous butchery of its bookends, this would be the greatest video game-to-film adaptation ever made.

Wonder Woman 1984 is worthwhile mainly because its sense of hopeful uplift is genuine.

Their face-off is a violently over-the-top slug-fest that lands the majority of its punches, and the ultimate victors are audiences who purchased a ring-side ticket to see these two warriors slug it out in the pursuit of apex predator supremacy.