I can think of few more flattering accolades than to affirm this may be the best definition of what burrow-into-your-brain unsettling means.

“Zombieland: Double Tap” doesn’t work as well as its predecessor because it doesn’t follow the rules that let the first film’s funniness flow fluidly.

You’d be correct to suspect we’re dealing with a film used to its fair share of tearing, molding, throwing, and shaping like an overworked piece of dirty kindergarten Play-Doh.

If someone insisted on pushing through the movie at 2x speed, I’d be hard pressed to concoct a good reason why that would be wrong.

Where else can you see a dinosaur interrupt backyard party sex as well as Denise Richards doing a lingerie striptease for Paul Walker’s disembodied brain?

You can expect an altered experience with “Doctor Sleep’s” Director’s Cut, though not necessarily a radically different one.

The movie might look roughshod if not for the fact that professional talents presumably knew what they were doing, even if the audience does not.

Best interests will often be rewarded by challenging comfort zones and taking more chances on movies that reside outside your usual wheelhouse.

“Terminator: Dark Fate’s” lateral move mostly maintains mediocrity, which qualifies as “good enough” for a property whose best days appear cemented in the last century.

With its comedic carnival of kooky clips, “VHYes” runs a full sprint marathon through a perfectly parodied time tunnel of 1980s nostalgia.

The garbage can is too charitable of a place to put “The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson.” It ought to be fired straight into the sun and disintegrated.

Although “The Sonata” doesn’t charge authoritatively like an earth-shaking juggernaut, it nevertheless gets the job done as a competently casual creeper.

If you’re an Eddie Marsan fan at all, you’ll be thoroughly riveted by the performance he puts up here. If you’re not already a Marsan fan, “Feedback” might make you one.

“In the Tall Grass” isn’t in the top third of Stephen King stories, so it tracks that the film wouldn’t land in the highest tiers of King adaptations either.

You might consider “Do Not Reply” to be the comparatively tamer made-for-cable alternative to the “online predator” and “homemade dungeon imprisonment” premises.

Clearly the offspring of a compromised vision, “Riot Girls” smacks of imagination sold scandalously short.

“Eli” really does epitomize both the mediocrity and the malaise associated with Netflix’s assembly line of middle ground “meh” movies.

“Crawl” giddily uses our heroes as pincushions to poke, prod, and pull apart like a freckle-faced kid dementedly playing Marquis de Sade with a lightning bug.

Funniness flies in your face fast and furiously from the first frame of “Little Monsters” all the way through its end credits song.

“Boredom makes men to villains,” says Willem Dafoe’s irritable lantern keeper. It also makes men wish they had chosen to watch anything other than “The Lighthouse.”