
Split movie review: time for another round of “What the Hell Was M. Night Shyamalan Thinking?”
Lurid and squicky, Split treads water and keeps too many secrets on a dull path to the revelation of its self-satisfied cleverness.

Lurid and squicky, Split treads water and keeps too many secrets on a dull path to the revelation of its self-satisfied cleverness.

A deeply personal memoir from the scientist with a “wild empathy for the planet” who locked down the human responsibility for global warming.

Rather brilliant and kind of inspiring until it turns frightening and even sinister. A dark tale of the beginning of end-stage capitalism as profit above all.

One of the most inept films I’ve ever seen. Cheaply made, poorly directed, badly acted, oddly edited, and ultimately insultingly stupid.

A marvel. Funny and exuberant and bittersweet and cliché-busting and unexpected as hell. We are going to need more movies like this one.

Fascinating and horrifying. A gripping detective story and an impassioned call for public debate over terrifying weapons that have already been loosed.

This overlong, underpowered tale of Christian martyrdom, in which iconography and allusion stand in for character, is a challenge to even the Scorsese faithful.

Commits the cardinal sin of cinema: it’s boring. Feels like two hours of highlights from a 20-episode miniseries that only hint at a rich story tapestry.

This Apollo-era would-be suspense-thriller mockumentary is more an exercise in “look how film-school cool and clever we are” than anything else.

What if “monster trucks” actually meant — wait for it — that there were monsters in the trucks? From an idea by a four-year-old (really), and it shows.