Resident Evil finally understands that survival horror works best when the hero is underprepared, the ammunition is scarce and every locked door feels more threatening than another lecture about Umbrella Corporation lore.
The Uprising is alive whenever Paul Greengrass throws the audience into the chaos, yet thin characterization and an overly explanatory script keep its spectacle from carrying real weight.
Runner knows the appeal of watching Alan Ritchson turn every available object into a weapon, and Owen Wilson gives the mayhem an affable pulse, even when the movie around them feels assembled from familiar parts.
Hope begins like a mystery whispered through a rural town and gradually turns into a creature-feature stampede, losing some of its dread as its scale expands.
Onslaught has the cast, gore and Carpenter worship to be a midnight-movie blast, but its slow burn leads to a payoff that feels more familiar than ferocious.
The effects made Terminator 2 historic. The reason it still works is that Cameron never treats spectacle as a substitute for character, fear, or moral choice.
Mutiny is at its best when Statham has nowhere to go but through somebody. The fights are blunt and efficient; nearly everything connecting them feels preassembled.
Train to Busan remains one of the defining zombie movies of its era, marrying relentless action to a father-daughter story that hits harder on a theater screen.
A bruised, character-driven Spider-Man film gives Tom Holland his strongest material yet, even as Marvel begins crowding the edges again.
A committed formal experiment with a commanding Alan Ritchson performance and several viciously effective action sequences.
Milly Alcock is terrific as a damaged Kara Zor-El, but the film keeps sanding down the sharper edges of the comic that inspired it.
Grogu remains irresistible and the practical world looks terrific, but Star Wars returns to theaters with a side quest instead of a real event.
