By all means, enjoy the big trademarked ape laying into the big trademarked lizard, or all nine-and-a-half hours of the reconstructed Justice League. Crummy movie or not, I'd rather spend my time watching Thunder Force's Jason Bateman attempt to hold a wine glass with enormous crab claws, or Melissa McCarthy imitate Jodie Foster in Nell a quarter-century past that gag's expiration date.

While Voyagers' PG-13 rating is already a hint that Neil Burger's futuristic thriller won't emerge as the daring, nasty good time it keeps threatening to be, the problem isn't so much the movie's rating as it is its blandness. Thanks to Alien, we know the deal with screams. But as it turns out, in space, no one can hear you yawn, either.

What better way to conclude one of the strangest movie seasons in history – hell, one of the strangest years in history – than with a free-for-all ceremony that will, I venture, see 18 different movies awarded over 23 categories, and the night's only mortal lock a female Chinese-American director winning a category that men, most of them white men, have won 90 times out of 91?

Near as I can recall, the last cineplex release that caused me to accidentally fall asleep was 2019's Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and I'm on-record as having nodded off not once, but twice, during 2014's Godzilla. I wish I could say those were the only two mutant-lizard flicks over the years to make me conk out, but alas, we're now confronted with Godzilla vs. Kong both on the big screen and via HBO Max. At least this time, my snoring was confined to my apartment.

In a nutshell, Nobody is more brutal than you expect it to be, and, in its dementedly over-the-top way, a lot wittier than it has any right to be.

Two new cineplex releases this past weekend opened with words that frequently inspire ennui in moviegoers everywhere: “Based on a true story.” Yet while both dramatic thrillers – The Courier and City of Lies are overly earnest and expository in ways those five-word preambles usually imply, their true (or more precisely true-ish) tales are gripping nonetheless, and the performers carry you through the occasional dead spots. One of those films is mostly tight and polished. The other is mostly sprawling and messy. And I mostly enjoyed them both … but kinda preferred the messy one.

It was a light morning for shockers but a great morning for representation when nominations for the 93rd Annual Academy Awards were announced earlier today – and such a great morning that it's easy to applaud the Oscars' historic showing of diversity without being hugely embarrassed by the Best Picture omissions of the widely predicted One Night in Miami … and Ma Rainey's Black Bottom.

An adaptation of his Tony Award-winning stage drama, director/co-screenwriter Florian Zeller's The Father casts Anthony Hopkins as an octogenarian suffering from dementia, and there's no point to me even trying to bury the lede: I bawled like a baby at this thing.

We're finally approaching an end to the longest gap between nomination announcements in the Oscars' 93-year history. So welcome, friends, to my predictions for the 2021 Academy Awards! Is it 2022 yet?

While director Doug Liman's finally un-shelved release shares DNA strands with all those Hunger Gameses and Maze Runners and Divergents – orphaned youths, nihilism, paranoia, common nouns elevated to proper-noun status – thie largely underwhelming Chaos Walking at least provides in abundance something those other works woefully lacked: charm.

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