Contributor: Paul Asay

The Last Jedi isn’t perfect, morally, spiritually or aesthetically. But I think it’s the best Star Wars film since the original trio.

Just Getting Started? I couldn’t wait for it to end.

Woody Allen goes dark with Wonder Wheel, a movie far more bleak and more adult than its PG-13 rating would suggest.

Explicit content turns The Disaster Artist into a bad movie about a bad movie.

Novitiate, like many of its characters, walks away from this curious form of faith a bit bewildered, a bit disgusted.

Darkest Hour shines.

Roman J. Israel Esq. tells us that not only is virtue its own reward, it is, ultimately, the only one.

In a year filled with top-flight superhero movies, DC’s answer to Marvel’s Avengers barely gets off the ground.

Let’s not lose sight of what Murder on the Orient Express does offer—a content-light mystery that feels true to the more genteel time it was written.

This movie felt like a tragedy to me: a tiny family slowly drowning—incapable of swimming, unwilling to grab lifelines dangling by the pool.

This film is like a cake made entirely of food coloring. It’s bad, plain and simple.

Adam, Solo and Will are more than just statistics. Through story, we see their faces. Feel, in some small way, their pain.

Boo 2 leaves me feeling just like I do after eating too much Halloween candy: a little sick.

The Foreigner is a dark, grim actioner, filled with blood and bad words a-plenty. Rush Hour? Try crushed and dour.

Marshall inspires. But it disappoints, too.