Director: Andrew Bernstein
Writers: Aaron Rabin, John Krasinski
Stars: John Krasinski, Wendell Pierce, Michael Kelly

Synopsis: Jack Ryan reunites with CIA operatives to navigate a treacherous web of betrayal against an enemy who knows their every move, facing a past they thought was long put to rest.

The television series-to-movie pipeline seems to be in full effect this year, with Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man, The Mandalorian and Grogu, and Jack Ryan: Ghost War, which attempts to carry over what was laid out across multiple seasons of television into an isolated big-budget feature film. Unlike The Mandalorian, though, Jack Ryan: Ghost War understands that the fanbase of Carlton Cuse and Graham Roland’s televisual expansion of Tom Clancy’s best-selling novels will not go to the cinema to see John Krasinski’s grand return as Dr. John P. Ryan. As such, Andrew Bernstein’s film was released exclusively on Prime Video, and it might have saved the franchise from further damage, because it looks and feels exactly like an extended episode of one of Prime Video’s biggest series. 

Bernstein is no stranger to the Ryanverse, having directed several episodes of the television show, but he doesn’t adapt the televisual language to feature-film conventions. Some may argue that since this is a straight-to-streaming movie, it doesn’t need to look like an actual film you’d see in a cinema, which is a problem in and of itself. Even if we ignore what has transformed the visual medium of cinema into television, on both the big and small screen, Jack Ryan: Ghost War doesn’t capture the cinematic thrills of John McTiernan’s The Hunt for Red October and Philip Noyce’s Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. 

Bernstein will certainly rip off one key sequence from Patriot Games and hope the audience won’t notice, which acts as the catalyst for the film’s events, as Jack Ryan (Krasinski), having fully abandoned his life as a CIA analyst, is recruited back in after acting director James Greer (Wendell Pierce) asks him a favor. With Mike November (Michael Kelly), the two travel to Dubai to meet MI6 officer Nigel Cooke (Douglas Hodge), but are caught in an altercation with Liam Crown (Max Beesley), a black ops soldier with a close connection to Greer’s past. 

Jack will have to team up with MI6 agent Emma Marlow (Sienna Miller) to uncover a global conspiracy related to…something?  I genuinely had no idea what the movie was about, other than Crown is bad and must be stopped. I guess this is what happens when streaming “content” isn’t concerned with giving audiences something of actual substance, even if the series functions well as engaging espionage entertainment. 

The movie has its fair share of effective action sequences, but it never lays out what’s most important about the plot: Jack must dismantle, or how close Greer and Crown were before the latter began engaging in rogue activities. Aaron Rabin and John Krasinski’s screenplay will certainly try to explain it via a step-printed flashback that’s far more convoluted than you’d imagine, but there isn’t a single scene – or moment – in Jack Ryan: Ghost War where we feel a sense of urgency about what’s going on. 

In the fourth season of the television show, Ryan has made it very clear that he is done with working for the CIA and is pursuing a more stable life. Because we need him to return, Rabin and Krasinski come up with a half-baked explanation, while November arrives as a deus ex machina of sorts, and we’re back in business as if he never left the force in the first place. There’s no evolution in the character’s line of thinking, even if he repeats ad nauseam that he’s but a simple “civilian” now and has no connections with the CIA whatsoever. This could’ve worked if there had been a push-pull between Jack wanting to stay in New York away from the field and Greer being in legitimate danger, but there isn’t any of that. 

Ryan returns to the CIA because Greer asks him to, without actually knowing why he should be the one to go to Dubai with November, even if he wants no part of this life. There’s a fine line between suspending your disbelief and narrative sense that the screenplay continually breaks, and as much as “things happen” for 107 minutes, nothing of real consequence occurs because we have no idea what’s going on. Why does Crown want to specifically target CIA director Elizabeth Wright (Betty Gabriel, whose talents are wasted after being the best parts of seasons three and four), other than wanting to inflict pain upon Greer, even though we have no clue why Greer’s past suddenly comes to haunt him? 

There is something pretty significant that happens early on in the film that pissed this critic off, because it makes no sense to commit such an act other than laying the table for a pivotal narrative turn in Clancy’s books that the series smartly avoided. However, in the interest of not giving anything away, this critic will avoid mentioning it. The action, while bountiful, is also shot and edited with zero cinematic pulse or verve. When the show has more well-mounted set pieces than a movie, regardless of whether it’s a streaming exclusive, there is a problem. 

Bernstein doesn’t know where to place, block, and move the camera, nor does he understand how to edit said action. They frequently become nauseating and unimpressive. The final machine gunfight, which could’ve been tactile and genuinely thrilling, turns out to be a boring show of force that does culminate in a darkly funny kill, but takes forever to get to that explosive moment.

The movie is only watchable because John Krasinski is a great Jack Ryan. He’s probably the best iteration of the character after Harrison Ford. How he captures the character’s analytical and tactical skills so well remains compelling to this viewer, and the chemistry he shares with Pierce’s Greer and Kelly’s November never falters. It must have been daunting for Wendell Pierce to portray the character after James Earl Jones defined him in the original trilogy, but the way he’s added texture over the years and made him far more complex and three-dimensional than we thought is honestly commendable. 

Miller is also a great addition to the cast, and springs into action effectively, although she’s far more underdeveloped than other female characters of the show, such as Betty Gabriel’s Wright, Abbie Cornish’s Cathy Mueller, and Nina Hoss’ Alena Kovac. Still, she’s more interesting than Beesley’s one-note Crown, a villain whom I still have no idea what his motivations are and what he was trying to accomplish. I’m usually one who doesn’t care much about plot efficiency and looks at cinema through its thematic and visual lens, but even I have my limits. He doesn’t make sense, and this entire film seems to exist only to capitalize on the Jack Ryan IP, with little to no purpose.

The new regime at Paramount, however, wants to expand upon Clancy’s Ryanverse – and do so imminently – so we might see more movies and television shows developed directly as a result. While I would certainly consider myself a fan of Clancy’s work, milking it to no end will only yield diminishing returns. If you’re only making Jack Ryan (or Ryan-adjacent) “content” just to fill the gap, you’re not going to get the audience to watch more of it. You’ll only make junk like Jack Ryan: Ghost War that people will immediately forget and wonder why they even watched it in the first place. Krasinski is a great Jack Ryan. It’s a shame the work he did for the character won’t be as fondly remembered as Harrison Ford or Alec Baldwin, simply because the show (and film) around him isn’t very good.

Grade: D+

Directors: McKenna Harris, Andrew Stanton
Writers: Andrew Stanton, McKenna Harris
Stars: Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Joan Cusack

Synopsis: Woody, Buzz, Jessie and the rest of the gang’s jobs are challenged when they’re introduced to electronics, a new threat to playtime.

Whether it’s James Bond, Fast and Furious, Saw, or the Rocky movies, sequels can’t deliver the exact same thing and expect audiences to jump at the opportunity. Filmmakers have to be able to shift the franchise in a direction that will feel fresh and exciting to their existing audience. Andrew Stanton’s Toy Story 5 might not reinvent the genre, but the message and impact more than justifies the film’s existence.

For the fifth entry in a very well-known and commercially profitable franchise (over $3 billion for the first four films), the filmmakers are more than willing to take some chances while still keeping relatively close to the formula they have created. While many of the characters are sidelined for a good chunk of the film, the core group is still intact. It’s as big of a swing the filmmakers could take while still remaining true to the brand, while keeping their core group of fans serviced.

After all, this is still a Disney movie. The Mouse House isn’t about to let a multi-billion dollar franchise run amok with too big of ideas. And Stanton (the co-writer of the four previous films) isn’t about to potentially poison the well with something to alienate a very well-established base of moviegoers. That being said, this is not a cowardly film. The message resonates and doesn’t make any sort of grand statement on the state of child development or device proliferation. It’s not taking any real stands, but I don’t see why we would expect that from the fourth sequel to a 31-year-old film.

The film’s plot focuses on the toys owned by young Bonnie. Led by Jessie (voiced by Joan Cusack) with Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) as her second-in-command, the toys attempt to bring Bonnie out of her shell and interact with other kids. Bonnie’s parents recognize her seclusion and buy her a tablet named Lilypad (Greta Lee). Bonnie’s infatuation with the tech leads the toys to believe their time has come to be replaced.

Jessie still wants Bonnie to interact with kids face-to-face, while Lilypad arranges a playdate. Jessie and Bullseye get lost on the way and end up at the home of Jessie’s former owner. Jessie aligns with tech toy Smarty Pants (Conan O’Brien) to reconnect with Bonnie, while Woody (Tom Hanks) returns to the room to find Jessie and help put a stop Lilypad’s schemes to replace the toys.

The Toy Story films have always been about more than just a group of toys coming to life when kids aren’t looking, and this one is no different. The introduction of tech to young impressionable minds is at the top of mind for the filmmakers, but played with a deft touch. You can very easily see a version of this film that frames technology as a pure evil or at the very least a nuisance. The film begins that way, but slowly unravels a truth about prejudice and harmony between the analog and the digital. It’s a nice balance between making a point to parents without going over the heads of kids.

There are other themes that the film touches on but doesn’t explore too deeply, such as prejudicial thinking, alienation, bullying, and child anxiety. These are all lightly approached, but never drilled down on. This is where the film lands in that middle ground. The idea of a child being unable to make friends is a big theme, but that is tempered by the adventures of a group of shipwrecked Buzz toys. The film wants to be both a vessel for nostalgia while approaching bigger ideas. It never dips too much into the nostalgia to be annoying, but it also never explores the ideas enough to be transcendent.

But, at the end of the day, this is a kid’s movie. People like me might have been a kid when the first film came out and now are bringing my own children to the theater, but it’s still squarely aimed at a younger audience. There is a loosely connected subplot involving a group of factory-setting Buzz toys that seems solely intended to fix the plot when needed. Along the way, they do the usual “Star Command” and “Emperor Zurg” pronouncements. It’s all light comedy for the sake of simple comedy. Without this subplot, the film might flow much better, but it also would write the film into a corner.

All of it barely matters, because the things the film puts narrative focus on gets all the attention. The push-pull between Lilypad and the toys sucks up all the thematic air. Again, this is a kid’s film for kid attention spans. They don’t want to overdo it. One big theme is enough. More than anything, this is a Jessie movie. If you like Jessie as a character, this film should be up your alley. If Jessie isn’t someone you particularly like watching, this is a tough ask. For the first time in the series, Buzz and Woody become secondary to the plot. Jessie’s abandonment issues from the second film continue to linger in the fifth film.

All the voice actors continue their long and storied history of character excellence, with Cusack getting the star role this time around. Lee is a nice addition to the film, increasing the tambor in her voice to nail the deadened nicety of an automated device. O’Brien similarly does not default to his usual voice and delivers a nice performance of zany chaos. Craig Robinson and Shelby Rabara also do a nice job in their debut roles.

Toy Story 5 is exactly the kind of slightly-better-than-middle-of-the-road film Disney wants to give you. It won’t break the mold, but it shouldn’t annoy parents too much. It’s a fine entry in the franchise, just without the emotional highs of some of the previous installments.

Grade: B

Director: Callum Burn
Writers: Andrew Burn, Callum Burn
Stars: Vin Hawke, Sam Dowdy, Matthew Canny

Synopsis: Stranded and slowly sinking into the fetid mud of Passchendaele, the crew of a British WW1 Tank fight for their lives against an insidious and determined enemy.

War films often aim for spectacle and scale, and they need to, as nothing will ever come close to what people experience in real life. Good war films usually include vast battlefields, endless explosions, sweeping shots, and attempt to showcase history unfolding in real time. Landship, however, takes a far more claustrophobic approach, and it’s all the better for it. Rather than trying to recreate the entire chaos of World War I, director Callum Burn aims to trap viewers inside it, narrowing the focus to a single British MKIV tank crew during the Battle of Passchendaele. The result is a lean, mud-soaked survival thriller that’s interested in endurance.

Set in 1917, during one of the war’s most brutal offensives, the film follows a nine-man crew tasked with destroying heavily fortified German bunkers. Naturally, things go wrong almost immediately. Their tank becomes stranded in a shell crater only yards from enemy lines, leaving the men exposed to relentless gunfire, poison gas, starvation, and the psychological strain of being trapped inside what increasingly feels like a metal coffin.

It’s a strong premise, but it’s not one we haven’t seen before. Fury sees a group of men fight their way across Germany in April 1945, in a tank. Whilst Fury did rely heavily on spectacle, this film builds tension through atmosphere. The inside of the tank is cramped, filthy, deafening, and increasingly unbearable as the hours drag on. Everything feels damp, rusted, exhausted, and on the verge of collapse.

Performance-wise, the whole cast does solid work carrying the film’s emotional weight. Vin Hawke gives the film a grounded center, with some very emotional moments, while David Dobson and Matthew Canny help create a believable sense of camaraderie among the crew. These men are frightened, exhausted, irritable, and often uncertain, and are not portrayed as mavericks with heroic archetypes. Their chemistry is strong, and you’ll root for all of them throughout the film.

The cinematography is dark, dusky, and heavy. All contribute to the presence of intensity and fear. There’s a particularly unnerving scene where one of the characters is out of the tank (what feels like their safety net) and is walking around in vast fog looking for an enemy, who eventually finds him first.

Fans of military history will likely appreciate the effort that has gone into recreating the MKIV tank and the grim conditions of Passchendaele itself. The production design captures the miserable reality of trench warfare remarkably well without making it feel polished or too “Hollywood” (in a studio, over the top).

What surprised me most was how psychological the film becomes as it progresses. Once the initial combat chaos settles, Landship shifts into something closer to a pressure-cooker drama. Shellshock, paranoia, and emotional exhaustion slowly begin eating away at the crew from the inside. The film understands that prolonged fear can become just as dangerous as bullets.

That said, the film occasionally struggles with pacing. At 89 minutes, it remains admirably tight, but there are sections in the middle where the repetitive nature of the situation slightly stalls momentum. The confinement that makes the film so effective also limits how visually dynamic it can remain for the full runtime. A few scenes begin to blur together, even if that monotony is arguably part of the point.

There’s also a slight imbalance between character development and action. While the ensemble works well collectively, not every crew member is given enough individual depth to leave a lasting impression. Some characters inevitably become more memorable than others simply because the film doesn’t quite have the time to fully explore all nine men equally. But what is lovely is that at the end of the film, each man is named and what happened to them, for example, if they died in battle and what medals they were awarded. There are also some statistics – this really hits home and gives the film even more emotional weight.

Landship may not reinvent the war genre, but it doesn’t need to. It’s a strong contribution to the war film roster. Fans of the war genre will love being taken back to a time, a war, a place where they feel actively part of the history and action from the safety of their homes. Landship is filled with tension, grit, and psychological strain, creating an intimate, memorable war film.

Grade: B+

Director: Lilian Mehrel
Writer: Lilian Mehrel
Stars: Ayden Mayeri, Amira Casar, Jose Condessa

Synopsis: June and her Persian-British mom Lela travel to the romantic Azores for a grief anniversary, with contrasting ways of coping. A hot-and-deep surfer takes them on a tour as we surf the waves of life, loss, flirting – an unforgettable ride.

Happiness is a fascinating concept. We view it as one of our basic emotions, but it’s more elusive than we give it credit for. It’s also far more subjective than it should be. Our happiness is different from your happiness is different from their happiness. Let’s not get started on how angry other people’s happiness can make us. Honeyjoon, while a film about a grief anniversary, grapples with happiness or at least how we interpret happiness in another person.

Lilian Mehrel’s script is very funny with a deep poignancy to it. She balances her characters perfectly between two poles of grief. Lela (Amira Casar) is very much a doom scrolling wallower who wants to bring down the mood of everyone to her level. On the other hand is June (Ayden Mayeri) who wants to move forward by finding joy in living life beyond grief. These poles create a terrific conflict and make for an even better catharsis between mother and daughter.

The two leads of Honeyjoon are just perfect for these roles. Amira Casar has impeccable timing which turns her cringe-inducing lines into very funny moments. Casar plays these moments very straight and like the woman of conviction Lela is. Lela’s a woman broken by a loss that came too soon, but she is still a person with great empathy for the terrors other people experience in the world. Casar takes us on a terrific emotional roller coaster with the deftness of a skilled craftsperson.

Ayden Mayeri is a skilled comedic actor with a way of getting us to see the emotional strain of June’s relationship with her mother. Mayeri, as June, is charming and a bit hapless. This leads to a spectacular running bit of June flirting with the eligible bachelors she meets and striking out as they are all aloof service professionals. It’s obvious her life isn’t going the way she planned, but she still has a sense of optimism about it. She knows she can do it if she just puts herself out there. Yet, when June is at her lowest, Mayeri really delivers there, too. Mayeri has a strong sense of this character and is able to bring out an inner turmoil that is affecting on screen.

As fun and poignant as the film is, there are still many unanswered questions. Like a lot of films, we don’t particularly need the answers, yet it feels like there’s something missing. These characters are very lived in and nuanced, but they lack some concrete details that would have added much more to the tapestry of the film. It can be hard to get everything in when a film is only 75 minutes, but a couple of more minutes of backstory couldn’t have hurt.

Honeyjoon embraces the past and the present in various ways, but none more intriguing than its use of different film mediums. For the ethereal landscapes of the flashbacks, Mehrel and cinematographer Ines Gowland use physical film. It gives these shots texture and ambiance that couldn’t be found in the present’s digital medium. Interspersed with these two are several clips of vertical footage shot from a smart phone. While this could be annoying to mix in the harsh HD with the crisp digital, these scenes add a component of realism to this trip. 21st century humans document their lives in a way that no other past humans did. These scenes make us feel as if we are seeing what it would have been like to follow this story on June’s social media pages. The out of context shots and the ones that show us a version of happiness are how we would try and understand June’s experience. It’s a wonderful blend of techniques.

Honeyjoon is a very good comedy that tackles some difficult issues. The leads are perfect and while the film as a whole leaves us wanting more, what we get is very enjoyable. The film will make you think about the happiness we project versus the happiness we actually feel and how there’s often a thin line between the two.

Grade: B

Director: Pål Øie
Writers: Vilde Eide, Kjersti Helen Rasmussen, Natasha Arthur
Stars: Sara Khorami, Mikkel Bratt Silset, Ingvild Holthe Bygdnes

Synopsis: A marine biologist is doing research on a fish farm when she encounters several strange occurrences. Along with the brutal deaths of two teenagers, all signs point to the deep fjord; can there be more to the depths than the eye can see?

From the enduring success of Jaws to modern crowd-pleasers like The Meg, there’s something undeniably entertaining about humans battling creatures far beyond their understanding. Creature features can lean into camp, horror, suspense, or even social commentary depending on the filmmaker. Kraken, directed by Pål Øie, simply keeps things grounded in atmosphere and tension, producing a high-end quality monster horror film.

Set against the haunting backdrop of Norway’s deepest fjord, Kraken tells the story of a marine biologist investigating strange activity around a fish farm who soon finds herself drawn into a series of increasingly disturbing incidents, including the brutal deaths of two teenagers. As rumors spread and the water becomes more dangerous, it slowly becomes clear that something ancient may be lurking beneath the fjord’s icy depths.

The premise itself is fairly straightforward, but the film benefits enormously from its setting. The fjord landscapes are stunning yet ominous, and the cinematography makes excellent use of the cold blue-grey color palette. Even before the monster fully reveals itself, the vast, unknown environment creates a quiet suspense. The dark water, towering cliffs, and near-constant mist create a naturally unsettling atmosphere. Unlike many modern creature features that rush toward nonstop action, Kraken allows suspense to simmer. The monster itself, when it does arrive, is big and booming, and thankfully the CGI isn’t poor or tacky and doesn’t take away from the beautiful use of shots in the film.

The script is quite clever, offering audiences a look into the way of life in Norway’s fish farming industry. There’s also something refreshing about how seriously the film takes its folklore elements. Rather than turning the mythology into cheesy exposition, Kraken folds Nordic legend into the narrative organically. It gives the story a slightly more haunting quality than the average monster film, grounding the creature within local history and superstition rather than simply presenting it as another oversized, unconvincing CGI threat.

Sara Khorami anchors the film as the increasingly desperate marine biologist trying to make sense of the growing chaos around her. She brings enough intelligence and emotional realism to stop the character from becoming another generic horror protagonist constantly making terrible decisions. Mikkel Bratt Silset, Øyvind Brandtzæg, and Jenny Evensen all contribute solid supporting performances, helping the film maintain a believable emotional core even when things become increasingly monstrous.

When you hear the word ‘Kraken, you may think of the delicious rum alcoholic drink, or the spectacular CGI work from Pirates of the Caribbean; either way, it’s something exotic and exciting. This film doesn’t live up to the drama as it opts for a quieter, more intense and suspenseful take on the creature feature. Which isn’t a bad thing. Modern monster movies often ruin their creatures by showing too much too early, but Kraken keeps enough mystery intact to preserve the fear factor. The creature isn’t constantly thrown onto the screen every few minutes. There are several genuinely suspenseful sequences involving boats, underwater shadows, and sudden bursts of violence that make excellent use of the setting.

That said, the film occasionally falls into familiar genre patterns. Some supporting characters exist largely to become monster fodder, and certain plot developments are fairly predictable if you’ve watched enough creature features. There are moments where the pacing drags slightly in the beginning and middle section as the film juggles many ideas and audiences are waiting for something exciting to happen. With a respectable runtime of one hour and thirty minutes, Kraken is a smart, atmospheric addition to the creature-feature genre. By combining Nordic folklore, strong visual atmosphere, and well-paced suspense, Pål Øie delivers a slick Nordic horror film. This is a must-watch for creature feature fans and fans of the monster horror genre. It might make you think twice before booking a Norwegian Fjords Cruise.

Grade: B

Director: Roy Cohen
Stars: Roy Cohen, Aseel Asleh, Tobias Saumel Stein

Synopsis: Haunted by the killing of his Palestinian childhood friend by Israeli police in 2000, Arab-Jewish, queer filmmaker and activist Roy Cohen revisits their friendship in an intimate cinematic letter written during Israel’s war on Gaza.

Ever since No Other Land snagged that Best Documentary Feature Film at the 97th Academy Awards, the Israel-Gaza war has become a rich source for people to sink their teeth and dig deeper about the complicated history in the region. All eyes were on Yuval Abraham and Basel Adra, the two brave filmmakers. The idea itself fascinated the world; two friends, an Israeli and a Palestinian, both committed to this cause, intent on letting the Western world witness the reality of the drastic situation in Gaza post-war.

Without No Other Land, there wouldn’t be a widely praised documentary on the Israel-Gaza world, created from the empathetic perspective toward Gaza. This is not something that was remotely possible before the existence of this film. Just like No Other Land, Arab-Jewish filmmaker Roy Cohen’s intimate portrayal of grief and lost friendship in a morally corrupt world, Far From Maine, is his love letter to his late friend Aseel Asleh, who was murdered in their youth by Israeli police. But it’s also Cohen’s attempt to find hope amidst the darkness of a hopeless world, shaped by the greed of political leaders and the depravity of war leaders.

The documentary runs like a series of heartfelt poignant letters from Cohen to the deceased Asleh, the fact that Cohen finds no one more fitting than his dead friend to express his raw feelings about bringing his partner to live with him in Tel Aviv and how that reflects on his place in the world as a queer Jewish activist against the genocidal actions of his government. Cohen masterfully weaves situations from his real life, with examples of the hardships that the Palestinians are going through. He compares the safety and comfort of his situation with the fear and instability that Palestinians experience, looking for moral clarity of his decision to stay in Israel, the only home he wants to stay in.

When footage of Asleh appears, our heart shatters. There goes a young man who could’ve lived a life parallel to Cohen, but in a different part of the same country that comprises a home to both. At a certain point, it appears like Cohen has survivor’s guilt. He once described Asleh as someone with far more charisma and talent than him, and one wonders if Cohen is guilty that only because of the toss of a coin, one belonged to Israel, the other to Palestine, and of course, the less privileged and fortunate one was the one to pass away at a very young age, even though he could’ve been the one more deserving of success and spotlight. 

Far From Maine is not an easy movie to watch, as is anything about a war that has been going on for three years now. Countless women and children have been murdered, and thousands are in mourning, even non-Palestinians like Cohen, but the bodies keep piling up, and the future looks foggy, with no end to the total catastrophe in sight. But if not for the voices of honest men like Cohen and Abraham before him, the world would lose that silver lining of bravery, courage, and truthtelling. After the unfortunate event at Tribeca Film Festival, bigger and wider release of films like Far From Maine is no longer a luxury, but a must. For the future generations to learn the reality of the situation for the less privileged citizens of the world.

This documentary has never accepted any Israeli investment, public or private. It aims to give voice to the voiceless, even if they are, like Asleh, dead.

Grade: A

Director: John Travolta
Writer: John Travolta
Stars: Clark Shotwell, Kelly Eviston-Quinnett, Ella Bleu Travolta

Synopsis: Propeller One-Way Night Coach follows young aviation enthusiast Jeff and his mother on a cross-country flight to Hollywood that transforms into a life-changing journey filled with unexpected moments.

John Travolta’s brain is indecipherable. That much is clear after viewing his feature directorial debut, Propeller One-Way Night Coach, based on his book of the same name, which follows the cross-country adventure of a young aviation enthusiast named Jeff (Clark Shotwell), on his first-ever flight. Travolta himself is a certified pilot and holds several licenses to fly commercial aircraft, and his love of aviation has been a part of his life ever since he was a child. It’s only natural for him to convey this passion in an hour-long film (which is more or less a television special, but since it premiered at Cannes, the word “film” will be frequently used in this review). 

Unfortunately, most of what’s on screen is completely devoid of interest in anything being filmed, which is a shame, considering how skillful he’s always been at operating himself in front of the camera. Behind the camera, Travolta struggles to bring to life images that evoke the same awe-inspiring wonder Jeff feels on his first plane ride, by interacting with the pilots and stewardesses, eating food he isn’t necessarily accustomed to, and even sleeping on his own berth. Who remembers the first time they boarded a plane (or a train) for the first time when they were a child? These larger-than-life modes of transportation instill in us a sense of real adventure, before we discover new places.

That sense is never captured in Travolta’s rambling semi-autobiographical project. Instead of letting his retro-inspired images with intricate production design recalling the work of Jacques Tati speak for themselves, the writer/director speaks as an older version of Jeff through endless voiceover narration that ranges from mildly amusing to overbearingly annoying. Consider the scene where he introduces flight attendant Doris (played by Travolta’s real-life daughter, Ella Bleu). Travolta films her in slow-motion, almost like she will be the next big movie star, and the accompanying narration (through Jeff’s mind) describes how beautiful she is and how he’d like to marry her. Strange way to describe your daughter to the world, sure, but the narration is totally unneeded at any given moment. You get the idea that Jeff is infatuated by her through the use of slow-motion – why add things via Travolta’s own voice that simply don’t belong?

You would think that, after fifty years in front of the camera and working with some of cinema’s greatest formalists – Terrence Malick, Quentin Tarantino, Mike Nichols, Brian De Palma, and, of course, John Woo – that Travolta would’ve been able to incorporate what he learned with each of these artists and develop a language of his own. Minus garishly-conceived CGI establishing shots and a vintage emulsion to the film’s colors, there isn’t a single frame in Propeller One-Way Night Coach that possesses Travolta’s same earnestness found as one of Hollywood’s greatest performers. In many scenes, he has no idea where to place his camera, and the shot-reverse-shot conversations between characters feel awkward and stilted. 

Shotwell’s portrayal of Jeff recalls Bobby Driscoll’s charm in the 1950s, but his line deliveries don’t have the same impact. Every other performer doesn’t have much to work with, other than trying desperately to sell a screenplay to the audience that gives them absolutely no favors. Some dialogue exchanges feel downright alien to basic human interactions, especially in the picture’s back half. Never has an hour-long movie felt so interminable, going around in circles until an inevitable conclusion that’s admittedly moving because of how personal it is for Travolta, but the end result still leaves much to be desired. 

Still, his tribute to his late wife, Kelly Preston, and son, Jett, feels appropriate given the project’s personal nature. One hoped it would’ve been so much better than what’s on screen, because you can tell how much Travolta cares about the source material, and aviation as a whole. If only he could translate this same passion on screen…

Grade: D-

Director: Adrian Chiarella
Writer: Adrian Chiarella
Stars: Joe Bird, Stacy Clausen, Mia Wasikowska

Synopsis: Two teenage boys must escape a violent entity that takes the form of the person they desire most — each other.

If The Holy Bible was a legislative doctrine – and, with apologies to our American cohabitants from a grave collection of jurisdictions, it is decidedly not – we’d already be residing in Hell. Maybe we already are. But in either case, the truth remains: The Bible is a document that classifies the people it preaches to in ways that are not only outdated (supposing that they were ever all that “dated”) but restrictive. Classification is inherently restrictive, which explains why a skim of the foremost religious text will note that slavery, genocide, and the forced marriage of survivors to their rapists are all kosher practices.

Also permitted is homophobia – worse yet, the damnation and death of those who love a member of the same sex. Leviticus 20:13 reads, “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.” This Old Testament verse is an apt reference point, then, for Australian writer/director Adrian Chiarella’s feature debut; even more aptly, Leviticus takes its title from the book in which it sits, growing more and more antiquated with time. Yet despite that world’s ever-churning evolution continues to creep in this petty pace from day to day, hatred toward members of the LGBTQ+ community creeps as well, and Chiarella was sure to make note of that ugliness back in April when he introduced his film’s Opening Night screening at the New Directors/New Films Festival, telling audience members that they would “see scenes of homophobia and anti-queer violence in [his] film… and those scenes [would] be depicted through the lens of the horror genre.” Chiarella went on to encourage viewers to recall the legacies of artists like F.W. Murnau, Mary Shelley, James Whale, and Clive Barker, all “queer storytellers who truly shaped horror into the powerful genre it is today.”

Instead of taking inspiration from these artists in the forms of Murnau’s Count Orlok or Clive Barker’s Pinhead, Chiarella digs beneath the surfaces of those terrifying presences and taps into something altogether more frightful: The sensation of intense desire, the kind that paralyzes and hypnotizes, that renders everything else in one’s life moot, at least until it is satisfied. It’s not long before we see Naim (Joe Bird) operating in this exact state as he grows closer to Ryan (Stacy Clausen), a classmate who lives across the street from the house Naim and his mother (Mia Wasikowska) now call home in a small Australian town. As it is only wont for two teenaged not-quite-men to do, their afternoon activities at a local abandoned mill begin with the duo seeing who can throw the heaviest object across the building and evolve into an impromptu wrestling match. Yet their delicious, sexually charged flight-or-flight rendezvous ends with a passionate kiss, one that hints at something the audience has already picked up on: Not only that Naim and Ryan are queer, but that a place like this – barren, filthy, isolated – is where they are the safest to be themselves, and with one another. 

Just as it didn’t take long for the connection between our main protagonists to be established in an introductory stage, Chiarella swiftly presents the challenges they’ll face should they proceed in engaging in a romantic relationship. For starters, their town is all but defined by the Christian parish that attracted Naim’s mom to the area in the first place; everyone in the town is a member, and no one is exempt. (Certainly not the young men in its “congregation,” those of which it seems to target with its proclamations and most devilish practices.) Its emotional pastor (Ewen Leslie) is like plenty we’ve seen before in cinema, and certainly within the confines of the horror genre: Charming and powerful with a cunning, cutting edge to his sermons that targets those who don’t blindly follow his creed. Not helping matters is the introduction of a Deliverance Healer (Nicholas Hope), who it appears is no stranger to this town nor the queer youth that reside there. His job, as both he and the community see it, is to cast out the sinful desires that fester within their souls. When Ryan’s sexuality becomes public knowledge, the sequence that follows is a gruesome act of torture, but not one that merely leads the teen to fear his own identity, but something he can only see due to the Healer’s spell: The person he wants most, only an invisible, menacing variant that uses love as a weapon designed to deliver maximum pain.

Not only are Bird and Clausen’s performances particularly strong – their distinct interpretation of young love leans closer to longing than it does to the typically giddy butterfly-laden crushes we see in many lesser teen-led romantic narratives – but it’s striking how seamlessly they pivot from one mode of emotional ferocity (amorous passion) to the other (still a passion, but a vicious one). That could be due to horror’s bylaws; it’s often that a romantic couple takes center stage in a fright fest, but rarely is it done well. In 2026 alone, we’ve seen Obsession succeed but Passenger, Corporate Retreat, and, er, The Bride! falter. Leviticus is something entirely different, a work of true terror and of sincerity. It is because of that that it eschews direct comparisons to “similar” works, using horror as its draw but not its only discovery upon viewing. 

Also evident is how assured Chiarella is in understanding his influences more than he borrows from them. It’s a feat that shouldn’t go unnoticed, especially considering how fond we tend to be of adorning fresh filmmaking faces as genre kings and queens before they’ve even ascended to prince/esshood just because one shot in their picture recalls The Shining. He may revere the likes of Murnau, Shelley, Whale, and Barker, but he’s not telling their stories, nor is he trying to. That’s what makes it especially disheartening to read and hear accounts of the film that liken it to David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows, a film that similarly deals with how your past liaisons come back to haunt you, but charts an entirely different path in doing so. 

Worse yet, the streaming television hit Heated Rivalry has been mentioned in what I can only assume is a few desperate attempts at SEO-mining, but what Chiarella is doing is far too sophisticated and amorous to be reduced to a formulaic tale of two young, gay men attempting to find themselves individually and sexually only for a litany of challenges to appear along the way. It honors that trope, and can occasionally be just as expositional as those projects in its plot explanations, but does plenty more to create something profound that surges past the latest YA adaptation of note. Limiting its reach by making broad associations misses the point. If we’re to take anything from Leviticus, it shouldn’t be that these stories share commonalities, but that they each carry their own value and exercise such in ways that touch audiences new and seasoned to the form. It just so happens that Leviticus does so in a way that looks beyond the works that came before it, brilliantly and brutally so.

Grade: B+

Director: Jared Isaac
Writer: Jared Isaac
Stars: Mark McKenna, Lukita Maxwell, Louise Barnes

Synopsis: In a magical lake town, one couple and four best friends spend the final month before college chasing an endless summer.

Recently, and soon enough, millions of teenagers all around the world are graduating high school. This sudden breath of fresh air is hitting them and every aspect of their lives is changing. It’s a sense that all of life’s trivialities have suddenly been solved and there is a weight off their shoulders. Yet, there’s also this huge black cloud of “the future” just waiting to burst. This is the feeling captured in the film An Autumn Summer.

While there is a story and plot, An Autumn Summer functions mostly as a mood piece. The characters don’t say everything they’re thinking. We who have been through this transitional period know exactly what they’re thinking from the looks on their faces. When it does come down to it and we come to know that these four who are so close are going to be split apart, the mood shifts and that black cloud they didn’t want to speak of moves ever nearer. Their easy camaraderie and deep affection shifts from playfulness to a desperate need to hold on.

Jared Isaac’s script is impactful that way. In his hands, summer is a magic bubble. The final month of summer is the hardest. Creating time, making memories, and holding onto magic before the gossamer thread of that time slips away. Isaac, when directing his script, makes us feel every word, touch, and moment like a gentle, but perpetual wave lapping at our feet in the surf as the tide recedes.

Isaac, with the help of cinematographer Brandon Somerhalder, makes us feel the breeze from the lake or smell the flowers and grass with their visuals. It’s a lush vista of water, green forests, and welcoming sandy beaches. The interiors also feel as if we’re home even if we’ve never been there before. It looks, as the characters feel, like we’ve been transported somewhere unearthly and magical. Then, editor Daniela Ovi’s montages make the magic feel lived in and grounded like it could be a memory from any one of us.

That is where the film loses ground, though. Each of the characters are unique and they have their own stories to tell, but it all feels like the film is floating without much concrete detail to go on. It feels as if everyone is putting on an affectation. This can be explained away as a coping mechanism for the big change that is hitting them all at once, but it’s hard to get too attached to these characters. They don’t feel like they exist in our world even if they’re meant to. With that in mind, the film languishes in disconnected days of summer fun in between the bigger elements of the plot. A lot of it could feel irritatingly solipsistic and like we were invited to a party, but completely ignored if it weren’t for the four main actors.

All of the actors playing teens in this film are excellent and have a comfort with each other that is palpable and feels very real. Though, Lukita Maxwell stands out amongst them. As Cody, she has more of the heavy emotional lifting because it’s obvious from the first scenes that she’s grappling with something more than separation. Cody and Kevin (Mark McKenna) are dating and going to different schools, so then it’s up to the two of them to decide to try to continue dating or to move beyond that relationship and into something else. Maxwell pulls off a great feat of introspection and angst. She’s able to bring a much needed dose of reality to this gauzy summer film.

An Autumn Summer is frustratingly magical. It’s easy to sink into its warmth and memory, but can be trying when you want answers or details that are never forthcoming. That is the blessing and the curse of characters who know each other so well. There’s a short hand, but anyone watching feels left out. The film can be forgiven its faults as it conjures the feeling of when summer had promise and the fear of summer’s end in equal loving measure.

Grade: B

Director: Steven Spielberg
Writers: David Koepp, Steven Spielberg
Stars: Emily Blunt, Josh O’Connor, Colin Firth

Synopsis: If you found out we weren’t alone, if someone showed you, proved it to you, would that frighten you?

Disclosure Day, the latest film from the great Steven Spielberg, is nothing like you’d expect. Which, in today’s age of spectacle filmmaking, feels like an act of cinematic bravery. Tricking you in the first act into thinking this is going to be an invasion thriller, the movie instead becomes an existential crisis—not for an individual, a group, or a community, but for the entire human race —which can be profound.

The experience is unlike anything Mr. Spielberg and his scribe-disciple, David Koepp, have done in quite a long time. Marking the fifth time Koepp has written a script for Hollywood’s great mythmaker, the movie plays with its themes patiently and pointedly, focusing more on bringing people together than tearing them apart; relying on the magic of filmmaking and the human heart. 

Yes, roll your eyes, but Disclosure Day is almost hopelessly optimistic, taking real chances as it jumps back and forth with edge and tone, not to mention science-fiction subgenres that work against each other. Yet, all of this is held together by Oscar nominee Emily Blunt’s performance in a role more challenging than it appears, as she has to be the heart, soul, dramatic heft, and comic relief.

The story follows Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt), a bubbly and phony meteorologist who loves to shake what God gave her while predicting hail for the greater Kansas City metro area. Restless and unable to be content with her place in the world, she has her boyfriend, Jackson (Thunderbolts*’ Wyatt Russell), film her audition tape for the weekend newscaster desk position.

Meanwhile, the night before, government cybersecurity whistleblower Daniel Kellner (The Mastermind’s Josh O’Connor) arranges an exchange of classified pictures and digital files he stole from federal agents, who have abducted his girlfriend, Jane (Flora and Son’s Eve Hewson), to recover the top-secret information. 

Leading the way is Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), head of an ultra-secret corporate entity known as Wardex, which is keeping this information from being disclosed to the world. Due to some clever thinking, Daniel escapes with Jane and goes on the run, with help from Hugo Wakefield (Running Man’s Colman Domingo), who leads a resistance movement determined to bring Wardex’s crimes to light.

What happens next? Well, after a red cardinal lands on Margaret’s kitchen table, the popular on-air personality can suddenly read minds and speak a handful of languages. Then, on air, and before she can tell Taylor Swift and the Cowtown community about tomorrow’s warm front coming their way, she blacks out and begins speaking in tongues, in a language only one other person can understand.

Reportedly, Mr. Spielberg came up with the story for Disclosure Day almost a decade ago. Some may see the film as loosely evoking the “Dark Forest” theory, particularly in the way it uses nature, including animals from the woods, as a mysterious form of communication. However, Spielberg’s film is ultimately less interested in cosmic paranoia than in unity, turning a familiar science-fiction fear into something more hopeful.

Of course, pushing up against that hope is fear and concern over weaponization. The movie spends too much time obsessed with Firth’s ability to chase his enemies with a technology that will remain nameless, going to that well far too many times. Then there is the storytelling get-out-of-jail-free card that studios like Marvel love to use, like opening a portal to avoid writing themselves into a corner. 

Here, unexplained powers are used in almost any situation. Yet, in one particular scene that at first bothered me, I later found it completely refreshing and unexpected, which is rare in today’s big-budget genre landscape. The story is layered, almost intimate, and approaches a Spielberg  summer blockbuster with tender care that only the Bearded wonder could get away with. 

That’s not to say the film does not have its clear faults, including a second act that runs far too long and a tendency to overplay its hand when it comes to the telekinetic subplot(s). Then there is the contrived moment where O’Connor’s Kellner hands the most important weapon over to someone who clearly should not be trusted, a choice made only to force the object back into the third act.

In the end, Disclosure Day’s hopeful, genre-bending swings outweigh the tonal shifts, second-act issues, and the convenient telekinetic detours used to keep the story moving. The difference here is that these devices are used to evoke empathy, which is used just as much to set up the audience for a resonant, satisfying experience that ultimately seeks connection rather than provocation. In the cynical age we live in, Spielberg reminds us that his greatest special effect can be: hope. 

You can watch Disclosure Day exclusively in theaters starting June 12th!

Grade: B+

Director: John Carney
Writers: John Carney, Peter McDonald
Stars: Paul Rudd, Nick Jonas, Peter McDonald

Synopsis: Rick, a washed-up wedding singer, and Danny, a fading boy band star, bond over music and a late-night jam session. When Danny turns Rick’s song into a hit, Rick sets out to reclaim the recognition he believes he deserves.

Sometimes, a film comes along where you gladly overlook its flaws because you become swept up in its enjoyable, even rousing, nature. That’s the best way to sum up Power Ballad; a joyous, heart-swelling crowd-pleaser. From writer-director John Carney, the film is effective, almost devastatingly so, when it comes to poignancy. This is a trait in most of Carney’s work that has struck a chord, over and over again. 

This all culminates in a moment that tugs at your heartstrings in a way that may depend heavily on the stage of life you’re currently in. What cannot be argued, however, is that Power Ballad features two very strong performances at its center, exploring both sides of the price of fame, ambition, and recognition. That is especially true when it comes to its star, Paul Rudd, who finds the earnestness in pity. 

Rudd is a performer who specializes in man-child roles that often come full circle, revealing what is truly important in life. That comes full circle in his latest, which is by no means revolutionary. Yet, when done well, Power Ballad is that type of movie; offering an experience that, for me, is the type of movie made for a lazy Sunday afternoon. The kind that makes you appreciate what you have or long for what you don’t.

The story follows Rick Power (Rudd), the lead singer of a wedding band based in Dublin, Ireland. An American who found himself migrating to the Land of Saints and Scholars when he met Rachel (Marcella Plunkett), started a family, and had a daughter, Aja (Beth Fallon), now a jaded teenager. Rick gave up his dream of headlining Madison Square Garden with his ’90s rock band, Octagon, and is now relegated to the scrap heap of history.

Now plying his trade by celebrating the nuptials for those across the Emerald Isle with The Bride and Groove, alongside his best mates, including his goofball pal Sandy (The Penguins’ Peter McDonald). While performing at a castle wedding, they meet Danny Wilson (Midway’s Nick Jonas), a guest working on a solo album after a successful career with a famous boy band. The bride begs Rick to let Danny perform, impressing the group with his ability. 

However, what Rick doesn’t realize is that the young pop star is equally taken with his talent. After the wedding, the two share a drink and a smoke, trading stories, swapping melodies, and smoothing out the rough edges of unfinished songs, including a ballad he wrote years ago, “How to Write a Song (Without You).” They part ways the next morning, with Danny leaving behind a prized guitar, but taking something far more valuable in return. 

Power Ballad has its detractors, many of whom point to the film’s and much of Carney’s work’s reliance on sentimentality. However, the script, written by Carney and McDonald, explores different facets of reinvention, ambition, and, in Rick Power’s case, legacy. More broadly, the film is funny, soulful, and joyous, placing its two lead characters in unfamiliar territory: one chasing fame and success, the other seeking fulfillment.

What makes Carney and McDonald’s script so satisfying, and distinct from others like it, is that both men ultimately discover that fame and success mean little without fulfillment. The film does rely on coincidences and remarkably understanding characters to move the story along and reach its third-act revelation, but the finale is so wondrous and emotionally fulfilling that you almost forgive whatever contrivances the script employs to get there.

Whatever you think of Power Ballad, it is rare to find a film that is both smart and sweet without falling face-first into the easy trap of cynicism. Nick Jonas is electric, but he also finds nuance in a character who could have easily been one-note. Rudd is wonderful here, bringing warmth to a man living with regret without ever resorting to playing him as a sad sack, instead finding the bittersweet beauty of contentment. Rudd and Jonas shine throughout, with a wondrous finale delivering an emotional payoff that earns its encore.

You can watch Power Ballad exclusively in theaters on June 5th!

Grade: B+

Director: Michael Tiddes
Writers: Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Rick Alvarez, Craig Wayans
Stars: Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Anna Faris, Regina Hall

Synopsis: Twenty-six years after outrunning a suspiciously familiar masked killer, the Core Four are back in the killer’s crosshairs and no horror movie IP is safe.

It may seem silly to say it at face value, but it’s truly a high-wire balancing act to make a truly great comedy, let alone a spoof movie. Not only does there need to exist a clever inversion of whatever genre of film it’s spoofing, but it must accomplish such a joke about a joke per few seconds of fame, and classics like Airplane and The Naked Gun films manage to capture this so effortlessly. Considering the absolute hot streak the horror genre has been on within the past decade and the multitude of changes it’s gone through, it’s a wonder why a new Scary Movie from the Wayans brothers wasn’t on the table sooner. Fret not, however, because for all intents and purposes the new Scary Movie acts as the Wayans’ excuse to reference and joke nearly every film, cultural moment, and historical event that has happened since the franchise was taken from them in the early 2000s for better and for worse (mostly worse!). 

Say what you will about the many flaws to find within the first two Wayans-helmed films of the franchise, but those films did have a certain charm to them, especially within their wackiest of moments that this new film can’t really capture. Jokes in the film tend to work whenever it just plays to a simple visual gag within its constant barrage of skits and less so in its attempts to joke about real-life events that are already outdated or mean-spirited attempts at taking jabs at the youth of today that come across as certified “how do you do, fellow kids” moments. Not every joke is a complete whiff, but the experience of watching Scary Movie is nearly as exhausting as the absolute worst the spoof genre has to offer.

The Scary Movie’s never really had much of a cohesive storyline per se, with the focus obviously being on the parodies themselves, and the same remains true here, as any story the film has is a mix of the narratives mainly following Scream (2022) in particular, with a dash of Scream VI and Halloween 2018 on top. The film’s main purpose is to act as a referendum on the recent string of reboots/legacy sequels that have been more popular in the genre recently, as a new Ghostface is targeting our characters from both old and new generations. 

The main cast of the original Scary Movie films all return including Shorty (Marlon Wayans) who’s now a crypto-pilled Twitch streamer, Ray (Shawn Wayans) the gay guy who they constantly like to make jokes about how he’s gay, and, of course, Cindy Campbell (Anna Faris) and Brenda Meeks (Regina Hall) who are both outfitted as Laurie Strode from Halloween and Ma from Ma, respectively. Sara (Olivia Rose Keegan) and Tuesday (Savannah Lee Nassif) are Cindy’s daughters, and Cameron Scott Roberts plays Sara’s incredibly suspicious boyfriend as new blood blends with the old, and no horror movie (or movie in general) is safe from a parody.

Look, there is a certain fun to the fact that most Scary Movies, including the originals, are just a collection of quick sketch ideas that fill up 80 minutes, but Scary Movie completely forgets why the cohesion between parody and jokes even worked within the franchise in the first place. The originals understood that within the parody, there also existed clever ways to tie each parody together that further added to either a separate joke or strengthened the take on the specific set of movies they were tackling. Here, there are so many references to movies and media that aren’t even horror-related that it’s hard to even latch onto a clever gag when one passes, since piles of “jokes” wanting you to laugh at something because you’re familiar with it exist in its place. Yes, Scary Movies have never been about “plot,” but there was a specific cadence to what was chosen to be parodied. When you’re just throwing another reference at the wall, it isn’t the same in the slightest, and it makes the misses a lot more noticeable.

This topic only deepens what is probably the biggest problem with the film, in that it somewhat exists in the same space as the later Scary Movie films or the worst of Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer movies that nearly killed the spoof genre by not understanding the difference between a reference and an actual joke. At least even when they were painfully unfunny or egregiously outdated, the first two films told jokes; here, whether it’s M3GAN, Weapons, Get Out, or The Substance, the reference to the “remember that!” The media is the only type of humor the movie can provide. More often than not, when the movie actually utilizes a cute setup for a visual gag or implements a cameo in a fun way, like its opening parodying Scream VI, it’s actually funny! The Wayans, instead, however, opt for an “edgy” brand of humor to our modern culture that’s supposed to be scathing or offensive to Gen Z and touch, and either come across as incredibly outdated (they/them jokes in the big 26’?) or obvious, like COVID jokes that are SNL-level at best.

It’s a shame that after getting their franchise back after it was essentially snatched from their hands, the Wayans brothers could barely register a modern spoof that’s better than the absolute worst of the franchise, which mistakes references for humor and touching upon every cultural moment within the past 10 years is a good substitute for actually telling jokes. It has its moments of clever bits, in particular its ending reveals, and Faris and Hall, as always, are comedic gold, but watching the new Scary Movie is basically the equivalent of viewing an extended YouTube skit that haphazardly strings together references from movies you may or may not remember, which makes for about a 20% hit ratio in the funny department.

Grade: D+