Julius Onah’s Captain America: Brave New World is a well-made, polished, thoroughly competent superhero film. It looks great, it sounds great, and it does everything a Marvel movie is supposed to do. Anthony Mackie is a charismatic and capable lead, I guess. He steps into the Captain America mantle with grace and gravitas, not that that’s what we really want from that character, but he does do that. The film makes a commendable effort to tackle real-world issues—power, responsibility, national identity—and wraps them up in the usual spectacle of high-flying action sequences and dramatic monologues. It’s all there, right in front of me, unfolding in perfect, calculated rhythm. And yet, the only thought running through my head as I watched was: Man, I don’t know if I have the capacity to give a shit about this anymore.

DreamWorks’ Dog Man is a lively, inventive, and undeniably fun adaptation of Dav Pilkey’s beloved graphic novels. The animation bursts with exaggerated movement, the humor is gleefully silly, and the story captures the wonderfully absurd spirit of the books. Kids will love its slapstick energy, parents will appreciate its occasional winks of self-awareness, and even longtime fans of Pilkey’s work will likely walk away satisfied. However, what they may not realize—at least not immediately—is that beneath all the charming absurdity, this film is working overtime to make children love the police. And that, to me, is far more terrifying than any supervillain kitty could ever assemble…

The Last Showgirl, directed by Gia Coppola, is a shimmering, poignant exploration of ambition, identity, and the inevitability of time’s cruel march forward. Anchored by a show-stopping performance from Pamela Anderson as Shelly Gardner, a legendary Las Vegas revue dancer facing the end of her glittering career, the film pulls back the curtain on the glitzy world of Sin City.

Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is a masterwork of gothic horror that channels the spirit of Murnau’s silent classic while carving its own harrowing path through the shadows of the genre. Every frame drips with atmospheric dread, and Willem Dafoe’s unholy presence as Count Orlok is nothing short of mesmerizing…

In A Complete Unknown, director James Mangold crafts a rich and evocative portrait of Bob Dylan, capturing the mystery and brilliance of one of music’s most iconic figures. Timothée Chalamet’s performance is transformative, embodying Dylan’s charisma, aloofness, and genius in a way that feels both authentic and revelatory.

Sony’s Kraven the Hunter takes a bold step into the morally ambiguous territory of antiheroes, crafting an origin story for one of Spider-Man’s most formidable foes. Directed with unrelenting grit by J.C. Chandor, the film is a cinematic safari through vengeance, environmentalism, and familial betrayal

Justin Kurzel’s The Order is a harrowing exploration of the rise of extremism, centering on the real-life story of The Order, a white supremacist terrorist group that operated in 1980s America.

Disney’s Moana 2 is a stunning sequel, filled with dazzling visuals, catchy songs, and a heartfelt story about leadership, family, and finding your place in an ever-changing world. Auli’i Cravalho is as brilliant as ever in the role of Moana, capturing her maturity and resolve with grace and strength.

Ridley Scott’s Gladiator 2 is an undeniably well-crafted sequel to his 2000 masterpiece. With stunning cinematography, brutal battle sequences, and a thoughtful narrative exploring legacy and revenge, the film delivers on its promise of grandeur.

There is no denying the sheer ambition of Wicked (2024), Jon M. Chu’s cinematic adaptation of the beloved Broadway musical.

The plot is thinner than Zak Gibbs’ grasp on basic ethics, the special effects look like they were done on an overclocked Windows 98, and the characters make decisions so nonsensical you’d think they were all stuck in a time loop of bad choices. But despite all that—perhaps because of all that—Clockstoppers changed my life in ways no one could have predicted.

Ah, MAXXXINE—the latest neon-splattered, blood-drenched fever dream from Ti West, set in the seedy, slicked-back Los Angeles of the 1980s. It’s a film bursting with gritty VHS nostalgia, but alas, I was forced to endure it in soulless, high-definition perfection of a god-damn movie theater.

The attention to detail is stunning, the acting superb, and the scenes are packed with a ferocious, mesmerizing energy. There’s just one minor side effect: I haven’t had an erection since seeing it in theaters in December 2022.

But for a movie with “Last Dance” in the title, the actual “dance” is a 30-second afterthought so bewilderingly sad it makes you wonder if the writers just slapped the title on there as a prank.