It can be an exhausting time of the year, from seeing people cling to their partner on your walk to class, to that obnoxious one-month anniversary post that makes you go, “What’s the big deal about four weeks of dating?” You can’t help but pity your single self.

While it’s usually seen as an achievement to get “cuffed” before the winter months, recent popular culture counters this idea, with a recently viral Vogue article reading, “Is having a boyfriend embarrassing now?” You might be better off facing the winter alone.

Although there is inevitable shame in not securing a boyfriend for the winter, these films will make you feel grateful for not falling into the obsessive trap that is love.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

You can’t help but think of the picturesque image of a lover saving you from your loneliness, but this film shows how it can bring disaster.

[Guillermo del Toro gives new life to ‘Frankenstein’ in latest adaptation]

Protagonists Clementine and Joel form a bond in their mutual distaste of life’s hardships, only to end up in a fatal heartbreak, culminating in a life-changing procedure to even attempt to move on from one another.

Seasonal depression is made a lot tougher while holding grudges against everyone who managed to secure a partner. But the thought of being enamored with someone to the point of needing all memories of them erased when it’s over is a little excessive, embarrassing even.

The Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009)

Nothing spells out yearning more than Bella Swan staring out her window as fall passes into winter with a panoramic view of her depressing bedroom, Edward Cullen nowhere in sight.

While uncomfortably relatable, a post-breakup Bella was the most down bad anyone has ever been in film history. I mean, she literally jumps off a cliff because she wants to be with Edward again.

While being single is nothing less than difficult during cuffing season’s peak, you’ll always be better off than Bella screaming every night in her sleep because her vampiric boyfriend left her. Her dad even told her she needed to move out!

The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

No character more perfectly depicts the deadweight of boyfriends than Andrea Sachs.

She let her insecure loser chef boyfriend make her feel bad about … being employed!

[2026 Grammy nominations signal Recording Academy’s disconnect from pop culture]

Imagine working for the top fashion magazine under the final boss of micromanagement, wearing off-runway clothes to work every day and getting front row seats to Paris fashion week — all for your boyfriend to deem it laughable and claim you’re losing yourself to some vain industry.

Talk about traditional sexist standards.

Lost in Translation (2003)

It’s all smiley faces, loving hugs and dinner dates under ambient lighting for the couples on your Instagram feed, or is it?

While there’s no denying some people might truly find their soulmate, this sentiment is likely untrue for everyone. It’s definitely not true for just recently married Charlotte, whose insomnia is caused by nothing more than her insecurity in her relationship.

Unimpressed by the culturally immersive and scenic sights of Japan, Charlotte mopes around, letting her ignorant and workaholic husband ruin what could’ve been an amazing vacation.

Slightly biographical of how Sofia Coppola — the queen of sad girl films — felt in her first marriage, her storytelling excellently depicts uncertainty when Charlotte holds back tears while phoning a friend, trying to pretend she’s happy and unable to be honest about the mess that is her life.

Honestly? Not an entirely rare experience for those in relationships.

Guillermo del Toro’s long-awaited movie stars Oscar Isaac as Victor Frankenstein, Jacob Elordi as the Creature and Mia Goth as Elizabeth. Set in early to mid-19th century Europe, Frankenstein follows the tale of obsessed scientist Victor Frankenstein’s journey to create life from the dead. 

The main story is told primarily through flashbacks and while his unkillable Creature hunts for him, Victor finds refuge with Captain Anderson, an explorer in the Arctic searching for the North Pole, and begins to share his life story. As a child, the tragic death of Victor’s mother led him to study death, life and reanimation. Much later, the scientist meets Herr Harlander, a wealthy and mysterious man who offers to fund his experiments. 

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But in Victor’s obsessive attempts to create life, he causes more death. His story of ego, violence and love forces the audience to grapple with an integral question —  in this iconic tale of monster versus man, who is really the monster?

Frankenstein is quintessential del Toro. His signature gothic visuals translate the story’s themes beautifully onto film. Dark and cool-toned cityscapes are contrasted against blood red accents in Victor’s clothing and the actual blood in his workshop.

The color red is a recurring motif throughout the film . Frankenstein’s gloves are red, foreshadowing the future blood on his hands. His forbidden love, Elizabeth, wears a bright red cross necklace in reference to her tragic fate.

Be warned: this movie is unapologetically gory. Before the Creature is formed, Frankenstein’s anatomical experiments are on full display. Ligaments are exposed, legs sawed off and skinless amalgamations are granted horrifying animation. Where other films may cut away or fade to black, Frankenstein lingers on its horror.

When the monster is brought to life with the iconic lightning bolt, we zoom into the experiment’s lifeless body. In disturbing detail, its grossly realistic heart begins to beat and revitalize the inner organs.

Del Toro’s Frankenstein succeeds where so many others have failed as an adaptation. Fans of the novel will be pleased by the film’s rendition of the Creature, a deeply compelling and tragic figure. Whereas popular culture frames the Monster as an unthinking, zombie-like beast, Frankenstein stays true to the novel by granting him intelligence and true empathy.

Elordi’s performance as the Monster is hauntingly beautiful. We witness his evolution from childlike and curious to mature and vengeful. Although he’s unable to speak when he is first created, Elordi conveys the Creature’s sadness, happiness, fury and curiosity through body language alone in a truly poetic rendition of the character.

But, Frankenstein is not perfect. There are many differences between the film and the novel with some more successful than others.

The film dwells for a considerable amount of time in Victor’s castle laboratory, where the recently animated Creature is chained up for experimentation. In the novel, Victor runs from the beast as soon as it comes to life, cementing his role as an absent and negligent creator. This alteration from the source material changes Frankenstein’s role in the Creature’s life, but it also allows for the two to form a deeper connection over a long period of time.

[UMD students go the distance training for marathons]

The film’s long opening puts it at a disadvantage later on. The pacing in the last 30 minutes feels rushed compared to the intricately laid-out scenes in Frankenstein’s laboratory and later, the Creature’s hideout — as if the film ran out of time for its own climax. 

Frankenstein is, above all else, a tragedy. The film’s decision to speed up two major finale scenes feels slightly unearned and disconnected from the last half hour of violence.

But perhaps the suddenness of the change is a testament to the father-son symbolism peppered throughout the film and source material. Despite every cruel action and mistake, the Maker and his Adam are forever intertwined. Two halves of a monstrous, innately human whole.

Based on the Korean science fiction horror thriller, Save the Green Planet!, Lanthimos’ movie feels extremely well-timed, shining a spotlight on a society where conspiracy supplants truth and corporations consume the people they claim to serve.

Bugonia marks Stone’s fourth collaboration with Lanthimos, after 2018’s The Favourite, 2023’s Poor Things and 2024’s Kinds of Kindness. Stone’s performance in Poor Things earned the actor her second Oscar.

The film follows Plemons’ character, Teddy, a man tormented by personal trauma and delusion who becomes convinced Stone’s high-powered CEO Michelle is an alien infiltrating humanity for nefarious purposes. What begins as a bizarre thriller spins into an examination of corporate greed, exploitation and manipulation, all of which drive Teddy further into delirium.

[UMD students go for gold in D1 Mario Kart club]

The film’s treatment of Teddy’s pain highlights its discussion of class disconnect, suggesting the elite, at least in the world of the movie, are so disconnected from the working class they may as well be aliens.

Plemons and Stone’s dynamic on screen is thrilling, with the two locked in a psychological standoff and constantly attempting to outmaneuver each other. Stone gives a compelling performance as Michelle, intelligent, resolved and chillingly detached, embodying corporate power with extreme precision.

Teddy is terrifying and tragic, a man whose rage and trauma are pushing him past reason. He’s layered with complexity and frustration: unhinged and volatile, yet heartbreakingly human. 

Their shared dynamic — one man’s enduring delusion against one woman’s insurmountable authority — triumphs.

Bugonia’s cinematography is extremely well-executed. It crafts beautiful shots, which perfectly encompass the disquieting world Lanthimos aims to create.

The film’s main spaces, Teddy’s home and Michelle’s pristine home and office, serve as visual reflections of the characters. Teddy’s home is mostly cluttered and unassuming, but his basement is grimy, cramped and distinctly utilitarian. Michelle’s spaces feel strategically curated, containing some elements of nature — but still being sparse and minimal — and ultimately feeling artificial.

Through it all, Lanthimos balances a persistent enforcement of his message alongside comedy. Though the film depicts fairly serious themes and subject matter, it doesn’t take itself too seriously.

In one particular scene, Michelle speaks to her assistant about her employees’ hours, saying she wants to discourage overworking and promote family time and relaxation but also encourages them to stay late to complete their work and meet their quotas.

The paradoxical dialogue of the scene, as well as Stone’s stellar acting, exemplifies the hypocrisy and pretension Michelle and her company demonstrate. They want to project an image of caring for their employees while lacking sincerity, keeping in line with the film’s recurring themes of facades, deception and exploitation.

[An ode to the plastic claw clip]

Ultimately, Bugonia depicts the desperate human need to believe in something, someone or any version of reality that allows us to rationalize our suffering and purpose. Bugonia confronts its audience with unwavering observations about complicity, conspiracy and contemporary society, forcing them to contemplate it long after they’ve left the theater.

Darkly hilarious, visually appealing and emotionally unsettling, Bugonia shows Lanthimos at his sharpest and most relevant. It’s not just a film to watch; it’s one to wrestle with.

I grew up in Freehold, New Jersey, hometown of The Boss. Just 10 minutes from my house, Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere set up filming. My dad excitedly sent pictures from his office, as the downtown area reverted to its bustling past. When Springsteen himself appeared on set, I received a grainy candid not too dissimilar from a bigfoot sighting.

This all amounted to less than three minutes of screentime, but this meant something to me, man!

Released on Friday, I held Springsteen to near-impossible standards. It couldn’t just be good — lead star Jeremy Allen White needed to portray my hometown hero like no one before him could.

Unfortunately, the film is a by-the-numbers rockstar biopic, though its heart carries it through any pitfalls.

Springsteen starts where most biopics would end: the big concert. His biggest hit, “Born to Run” booms through a roaring crowd. His vocals are passionate. The lights are heavenly. It should be a cathartic victory.

But director Scott Cooper ensures these moments feel intentionally stressful. In a movie purposely defined by quiet, these scenes are cacophonous. The movie contrasts its muted tones with the harsh lights of The Stone Pony music club, Springsteen’s soft speaking tone with his wailing singing.

It’s hauntingly effective and serves to reinforce one central idea; Springsteen, disillusioned with fame, needs to re-discover himself.

[Embrace your inner theater kid with these Halloween musicals]

To do so, he must return to New Jersey and work through his personal demons. The most nagging being his deep-rooted troubles with his father. He does this by recording his album Nebraska — a defiantly bare and acoustic record.

Cooper is at his best when capturing New Jersey vistas. Springsteen’s getaway cabin is the film’s centerpiece and a breathtaking portrait of the idyllic Jersey lakeside. Classic Jersey Shore landmarks feel vibrant and lived-in.

In one memorable scene, Springsteen goes on a late-night date with his love interest Faye on the boardwalk. They have a heart-to-heart on a carousel, lit only by its warm glow. It evokes nostalgia for a moment in time that any viewer can relate to.

Like most biopics, Springsteen serves as a vehicle for its leading man. As Springsteen, White is witty and reckless with a dark undercurrent. Think of his portrayal of Lip from Shameless, but toned down and with a cheesy accent. It’s not particularly adventurous, but it still delivers.

White proves he can guide the movie through its most poignant themes. His interactions with his father Douglas, played by Stephen Graham, are succinct and moving.

Through a series of black-and-white vignettes, the film details the clash between a child Springsteen and his father. This culminates in a present-day conversation at a Los Angeles bar. Douglas, once an intimidating figure, is reduced to a former shell of himself.

It’s this relationship that guides Springsteen’s self-discovery. In a classic biopic songwriting montage, Springsteen finds inspiration from the 1958 murder spree that inspired the movie Badlands. Interspersed with flashbacks of childhood fights with his father, he rewrites the song to first-person.

Cooper couldn’t be more heavy-handed, but it effectively characterizes Springsteen’s self-destructive tendencies.

[Students are nuts for UMD’s squirrel watching club]

Springsteen lacks a strong supporting cast outside of Graham.

Springsteen’s manager Jon Landau, played by Jeremy Strong, represents the worst of this. When Springsteen’s sound inevitably clashes with record producers expecting his rockstar persona, Jon simply acts as the mouthpiece for Nebraska’s vision. Outside of that, he is boring and aimless, not helped by Strong’s uninspired performance.

While Odessa Young plays Faye excellently, biopic tropes hold her back. She devolves into a love interest who wants the rockstar to settle down with her. While she and White shine during an intense confrontation at a diner over Springsteen moving to California,it feels like a scene done a thousand times before.

We’ve seen it all before in A Complete Unknown, Rocketman or Bohemian Rhapsody. Why does the movie insist on following cliches when its intrigue lies in its unorthodox premise of Springsteen’s relationships?

This all seems in service of one cathartic moment that never quite delivers, a buildup to a climax that never happens. While Springsteen’s story has a satisfying conclusion, it never quite reaches the emotional high the movie teases.

Springsteen feels more like an interesting concept than a well-executed film. Look out for the inevitable Best Actor nomination for White, though it will be a shocking upset if he pulls off the win.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Depending on which version of it you watch, Sweeney Todd is either an eerie Tim Burton tall tale or a grimly comedic journey into situationally convenient cannibalism. Either way, it’s a one-of-a-kind trip.

When protagonist Sweeney Todd returns to London from unjust imprisonment and finds that his wife, Lucy, is dead, he vows to get revenge. With the help of his old straight razors and a manic baker, Sweeney takes creative measures to avenge his wife. Tread lightly if you have a weak stomach.

Ride the Cyclone

This off-Broadway comedy features a cast portraying six recently deceased high schoolers, one sentient fortune-telling carnival machine and one very hungry rat eating through the fortune teller’s wiring. The liminal space between life and death is as wacky as it gets.

The children are members of a Canadian high school choir who tragically die after a roller coaster called the Cyclone breaks. In a series of solo and group numbers, each character pleads their case for why they should earn the right to return to the land of the living. Ride the Cyclone has a diverse range of songs, with “The Ballad of Jane Doe” in particular a beautifully haunting performance perfect for the Halloween season.

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Rocky Horror Picture Show

Don’t let the title fool you — this cult-classic isn’t actually a horror musical. Starring the incomparable Tim Curry, Rocky Horror is pure, unadulterated camp.

Watch as unassuming lovebirds Janet Weiss and Brad Majors find themselves trapped in the strange home of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a mad scientist who somehow succeeds in creating life. With rock-and-roll musical numbers and unashamed raunchiness, this musical is sure to make any dull October night into one to remember.

The Hatchetfield Trilogy

The Hatchetfield trilogy is a series of three professionally recorded stage musicals created by the musical theater company Starkid, best known for A Very Potter Musical. The productions take inspiration from several horror tropes, including alien invasions, mind control and teen slashers. Each musical exists in an alternate version of the fictional town of Hatchetfield, and many familiar characters serve as Easter eggs throughout the trilogy.

The first musical is The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, a hilarious, self-aware production about a Broadway-hater named Paul who discovers his town is invaded by body-snatching, spontaneously singing aliens. Situational humor mixes with genuine heart as Paul and his friends attempt to evade this musical nightmare.

Next is Black Friday, a family-oriented musical that asks the question: what if the most popular toy of the holiday season was actually a Lovecraftian monster from the beyond? Bridging the gap between spooky month and “the most wonderful time of the year,” this installment has a lot to offer for anti-consumerist audiences.

The final musical is Nerdy Prudes Must Die, which follows the social outcast Peter Spankoffski and his friends as they deal with their evil high school bully, Max Jägerman. Things come to a head when the geeks accidentally murder Max, leading to the bully returning as a ghost and vowing revenge on all “nerdy prudes” in Hatchetfield. For any fans of more mature productions, this trilogy is for you. 

[Lorde stuns with powerful visuals, energy at the ‘Ultrasound’ tour]

Next to Normal

This production is not necessarily scary, but it is a ghost story. Familial trauma and the paranormal collide to blur the lines between reality and delusion.

On the surface, the Goodmans look like a normal nuclear family. But as cracks appear in the family’s lives, we soon learn that the mother’s mental illness has taken a harsh toll on every family member, creating a household that is anything but normal. With plot twists throughout, Next to Normal grabs your attention and refuses to let go.

Bonus: Cats (2019)

This infamous movie musical is not scary, nor is it a thriller, but it is certainly unsettling. You’re sure to be covering your eyes in no time.

Directed by Chris Columbus and based on the 2020 novel of the same name, the comedic mystery stars four members of the senior living facility Coopers Chase as they try to solve a murder while keeping their community from shutting down.

Three of the club’s original members, played by Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan and Ben Kingsley, are retirees who spend their Thursdays solving cold murder cases. After the last original member of their group enters hospice care, the trio take in a new person at Coopers Chase, a retired nurse played by Celia Imrie.

When one of the owners of Coopers Chase is murdered, the four seniors set out to uncover who killed him. What begins as a simple murder turns into a web of mysteries surrounding the facility and the Thursday Murder Club.

The film’s premise is charming. Fans of Knives Out and The Golden Girls will enjoy the concept, which is complete with a dash of The Great British Baking Show. 

[‘Weapons’ is a near-perfect dark comedy]

The cozy floral wallpaper and pastel wingback chairs in nearly every room of Coopers Chase give the film an inviting sense of warmth and fit each character’s personality. It feels like a place your grandmother would enjoy playing mahjong.

In contrast, other settings in the film are more consistent with the scenery of a typical murder mystery, such as the old cemetery outside of the senior living facility. It’s a duality that leans into the mystery’s unique premise.

Despite dealing with heavy topics like death, Alzheimer’s and immigration issues, the main characters’ antics bring a lightness to The Thursday Murder Club that makes it an incredibly funny watch.

Brosnan and Kingsley’s characters ease even the heaviest moments with their comedic prowess. In one scene, the duo lure the chief investigator on the murder case to the senior living facility, where Kingsley’s character uses his expertise as a retired psychiatrist to transform Ron’s apartment, played by Brosnan, into a picture of senile chaos.

While some situations leave the audience with second-hand embarrassment, the movie doesn’t rely on uncomfortable scenarios to get a laugh. 

Another standout scene is the introduction of Stephen, played by Jonathan Pryce, who is married to Mirren’s character and suffers from Alzheimer’s. Pryce’s depiction of Alzheimer’s is heartbreakingly sincere. 

Every small detail of his performance, from the slight shake of his hands to the frustration on his face when he can’t remember words, enhances his character and adds heart to the comedy.

Seemingly unremarkable lines prove to be important to the larger narrative. These inclusions are easy to miss on the first viewing, but ensure The Thursday Murder Club remains interesting during a second watch. 

[Rap duo Clipse are out for blood on ‘Let God Sort Em Out’]

But despite so much build-up to the final reveals and expert comedic performances, the ending falls flat. The film quickly pivots to a neat and quick resolution rather than fleshing out the ending’s heavier actions, such as murder and suicide, leaving some audience members potentially feeling off-kilter.

Despite its flaws, The Thursday Murder Club is an overall enjoyable watch with strong characters and an intriguing premise.

Oh, and remember to call your grandparents. They’d love to hear from you.

Grainy footage popped up online of creepy clowns on the street, clowns on sidewalks, clowns standing still before chasing cars. Maybe the clown is your neighbor? Could the clown be in your home? You should check. In complacency with suburban life, did our imaginations perceive a threat to our peace as clowns?

Clown imagery flickers in the background of director Zach Cregger’s 2025 film Weapons, where we learn why 17 third graders disappeared from their homes on the same night. It prods at not only the memory of the clowns but the terror of shattered normalcy. Omnipresent ring cameras capture terrifying moments of children running instead of monitoring their homes.

As the kids’ teacher Justine, played phenomenally by Julia Garner, becomes the prime suspect in their disappearance, there’s an increasing, pressurized dread about an intruder in this idyllic town.

Questions immediately arise about Justine and what she may be hiding, but the film worries little about the why of its characters’ motives or the origin of its villains, instead shaping its thesis on the various ways we process sudden tragedy. 

[Rap duo Clipse are out for blood on ‘Let God Sort Em Out’]

Cregger opened up about how he wrote the script following the passing of a close friend. From this, it’d be easy to label Weapons as elevated horror, in addition to its use of more obvious symbolism for tragic events.

Cregger’s slow-burn pacing, piecing together multiple character points of view, successfully fleshes out a lived-in neighborhood. Taking place a month after the disappearance, every character — from Josh Brolin’s anguished father Archer, to Benedict Wong’s doomed school principal Marcus — feels settled in their stages of grief around the disappearance, even if some are unwilling to move on.

Yet when it marries its intertwining threads for a cathartic but abrupt conclusion, Cregger doesn’t clarify if we’ve achieved any resolutions to grief.

Before all this, we watch Justine descend into alcoholism as upset parents threaten her well-being. Archer grows obsessed with defying the police investigation and the remaining student can’t begin to process his trauma while he holds onto a secret. It’s intriguing. It’s also disturbingly funny.

Weapons maintains a degree of separation with comedic timing, not permitting typical horror cliches — creepy clown makeup, Conjuring-esque hallway chases, ominous kid doodles — to remove a genuine fear factor or sincerity to its protagonists.

In one heartbreaking scene, Archer attempts to communicate with his son in a dream and latches onto clues of where he’s located, ending with an impassioned plea for him to come home before being jumped by the maybe-clown. But once he wakes up, his over-the-top reaction cuts the tension.

[‘The Shrouds’ paints a scattered, perceptive portrait of grief in the age of AI]

There’s opportunities for Cregger to go full scorched earth in parody and rev up the comedy, asking various questions without any desire to answer them. Why 2:17 a.m.? Why kids in the first place? What’s the motive for our villain? Does it matter? The suspense feels just like re-watching those clown videos again.

Look at the outlandishness the film teases, of high speed car rides and people sprinting with outstretched, V-shaped arms. We might spend more time than needed with an odd couple buddy cop dynamic, but it’s fun to watch their thrilling high-speed cop chase, especially when the camera shares the car and sidewalk’s frenzied perspective.

In a personal favorite scene, Justine tries to speak to her last remaining student Alex, played by Cary Christopher, as a means to help her own grief. She falls asleep in her car waiting to catch him while a zombie-type figure teeters toward her vehicle with comically large scissors.

Right when she notices Justine in the window, she pauses, then hobbles out of the frame. It’s silly comedic timing, until we hear the car door unlock.

Even within a feverishly violent third act, my theatre screamed with laughter. Audience attention is worth gold nowadays with people constantly glued to their phones, yet an antsy member would struggle to not find joy amid the thrills Weapons delivered.

Clocking in at slightly above two hours, it finds the space to grow increasingly aware of its outlandishness despite some of its chapters lingering too long on setting up its bizarre ending.

But refusing to be caught up in the comedic frenzy is a solemn reminder that tragedy can happen without reason, leaving people to act in upsetting ways. After my screening, it set in that I can never be sure what’s just beyond my porch lights.

The film follows Karsh, played by Vincent Cassel, a businessman who monitors the decomposition of his wife’s corpse using a system called GraveTech. When the specialized tombstones in his company graveyard are hacked and ransacked by an unknown party, Karsh’s investigation uncovers an unseen international conspiracy.

The film appears as a naked, personal examination of Cronenberg’s grief following his wife’s death in 2017. In an interview with Variety, the director said her passing and his subsequent feelings were the “impetus” for The Shrouds’ creation, although the film is by no means strictly autobiographical.

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While other films grappling with grief relate a deceased person’s absence to its effects on family or friends, Cronenberg examines the longing for a dead loved one’s physical body  — continuing the bodily preoccupation highly visible throughout his career.

Turbulent nightmares illustrate Karsh’s intense grief and yearning for his wife’s body. In one recurring dream sequence, he attempts to embrace his wife, then in the throes of cancer, when her hip shatters with a nauseating crack due to brittle bones. Through the tragedy of his wife’s deterioration and a slew of later sex scenes, Cronenberg illustrates his view of the intimacy of sex as a significant pillar in relationships.

The film also interrogates artificial intelligence and the constant presence of mobile phones in daily life. Karsh is aided in his graveyard hack investigation by Hunny, a computer-generated AI model that acts as his online secretary. But she’s suggested to be more than just an assistant. 

Eventually, Karsh grows distrustful of Hunny, reflecting an apt suspicion of AI and possible harmful effects on its users.

Much of the film’s plot is conveyed through dialogue, alluding to some sort of enormous global scheme involving Russia, China and other countries to hack into GraveTech and use the system for mass surveillance. Details are deliberately vague, leading to confusion and a sense of being duped by the characters on screen.

Many of the aforementioned conversations are conducted through FaceTime, which sets The Shrouds apart at a time when filmmakers often shy away from featuring mobile phones in their works. Allowing static close-up shots of phone conversations to persist for minutes on end, Cronenberg fully commits to portraying the sterility and distance of a conversation through a screen.

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But the vagueness comes at a cost. Ultimately, the film’s ending ties up none of the loose ends and gives no resolution to the threat against GraveTech.

It’s a bummer to leave the theater empty-handed, but the questions asked by Cronenberg about the nature of death and our evolving technological world are enough to keep one pondering The Shrouds’ events for weeks to come.

Previews of Jack Black’s idiosyncratic one-liners and an unfinished leak of the film echoed the disastrous rollout of Sonic the Hedgehog in 2019, when audiences balked at the original character design. The response was so bad that Paramount halted production, redesigned Sonic and returned with a vision that ultimately succeeded at the box office.

Warner Bros. did no such thing with A Minecraft Movie. Instead, the studio charged ahead with unabashed confidence in its product, though it might’ve been wiser to pull back before plunging into the public eye.

The film arrived with plenty of fanfare but it fell flat, weighed down by its meandering, uninspired plot and jarring tonal shifts, likely the result of having a staggering nine credited writers.

While the movie’s main appeal was to nostalgic players looking for simple laughs and Minecraft in-jokes, even that felt far-fetched. Especially with a thin, wandering plot of coincidental happenings and characters that lack substantial backstories and distinctive personalities.

[College Park-based band ‘The Odyssey’ turns basement jams into bold new tracks]

The cast might seem like a random assortment at first glance, but the ensemble shares great chemistry, especially Black and Jason Momoa, who comedically bounce off each other despite occasionally clunky dialogue. Black, of course, gets his own moment — or three — to sing.

It’s clear the studio hoped for a hit like “Peaches” from The Super Mario Bros. Movie, but failed to land it.

Unfortunately, the Black-Momoa duo spark doesn’t extend to the rest of the cast. Early in the movie, the main group of five is pared down to three when the party decides to split up, which effectively removes the only two female leads for the rest of the film. The central duo  — Henry and sister Natalie — is a flat take on sibling camaraderie considering they rarely interact and the movie spends too much time explaining their backstory.

Surprisingly, the movie also includes a shocking amount of violence and sexual innuendos for a PG-rated film marketed to children. It features several on-screen deaths of animals and villagers, a bizarre moment where Black rides a flying Momoa — I can’t make this up — and an awkward romance between Jennifer Coolidge’s character and a villager. Truly, the film feels like a demographic identity crisis.

A large portion of the movie’s monstrous $150 million budget went to the massive amount of CGI necessary to bring an open-world setting to life.

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While much of the animation dazzles, including the detailed texturing on blocks of pink wool and leafy trees, other visuals were uncanny. The fleshy texture of the zombies and villagers were particularly unsettling.

The realistic effects do help with decent immersion and worldbuilding, but for a film so reliant on CGI, I expected more.

There were shimmering moments of creativity in the movie’s practical props, such as a small golden apple or a perfectly round-yet-pixelated “ender pearl.” It might’ve been more quaint to see more of the film take this practical route, perhaps using puppets or animatronics. With such a large budget, it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

With humor too raunchy, scenes too terrifying for children and a plot too thin for adults,  A Minecraft Movie misses every mark and audience it tries to reach.

For a movie meant as an ode to a culturally impactful game that offers players unlimited story possibilities, A Minecraft Movie boxes itself into a generic Hollywood script, infused with internet-soaked cheap shots and expensive, underwhelming CGI.

In the end, it left me with the same hollow feeling as scrolling through two hours of low-grade Instagram reels — the sort of grimy guilt that comes from consuming something so empty, you forget it even happened by the next day.

That said, I do kind of want to play Minecraft now.

But this isn’t an anomaly. Snow White is just the latest in a slew of live-action adaptations with broadly mediocre reception, and even animated films such as Moana 2 and Pixar’s Elemental received a similar response. 

Finding anything in Disney’s ocean of post-pandemic content that feels on par with Frozen or Finding Nemo is exceptionally difficult. The company seems to have abandoned its original creative, breakneck approach to filmmaking, opting instead for movies with oversaturated humor and a predictable line of action. 

This theme in recent releases signals an underlying identity crisis within the company post-pandemic. With the combined loss of theatergoers during COVID-19 and Disney’s recent leadership shakeups, the company is clearly attempting to find stability elsewhere — but not in deviating from its formula. 

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Disney’s existing intellectual properties are now the company’s north star, creating the basis of current content — think endless Star Wars spinoffs and Marvel universe expansions. It’s admittedly a strategy that brings in massive returns for the company, but is bound to create products with a short shelf life. 

Unsurprisingly, the exploitation of these properties often includes the ones with the most dedicated fan bases. It creates an endless source of disappointment for fans who hold the media so dear. Star Wars fans will always watch shows which promise new stories with the characters they love, such as Ahsoka or Obi-Wan Kenobi, only to be let down by flimsy storytelling and depictions of their favorite characters nowhere near the originals. 

There’s no question that the film industry as a whole is struggling to meet the same profit margins as it did before COVID-19 —  in fact, it was mentioned at the Oscars this year —  but other studios and plenty of film companies have found immense success in new approaches to film. 

Look at the 2024 animated film Flow, which saw massive commercial and critical acclaim despite being created using an open-source animation software by independent filmmakers from Latvia. The film, which features no dialogue, was hailed for its sentimental storytelling, while also making its animal characters and the story itself feel deeply real, contrasting a lack of the excessive theatrics or on-the-nose themes Disney historically employs. 

When compared with Inside Out 2’s intense, frenetic humor and nearly identical plot to the original, it’s not difficult to see why audiences would have preferred a more understated but resonant film such as Flow. The Academy seemed to agree. The film lost the Oscar for Best Animated Feature to Flow in a record three-year losing streak for the company’s animation department. 

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Films that do seem to have a new setting and characters usually pan out to be a thin variation of the typical three-act story the company is synonymous with. It’s reliable but not interesting. Good enough for kids, but nothing for wider audiences to appreciate. It’s a story that felt exciting and original when films such as The Incredibles and Toy Story were first released, but loses its luster by the time the third sequel rolls around. 

It’s especially unfortunate that now, nearly a century after the trailblazing release of the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as Disney’s first animated feature-length film, the same company is choosing to release a remake resplendent with uncanny CGI dwarves and unnecessary, low-effort narrative additions. 

Disney has always been an industry leader in telling stories of underrepresented communities and experiences, but without changing its formula of using existing intellectual properties or overdone plotlines, it simply won’t find a new emotional vein with audiences.