Here you’ll find links to all of Mike Schulz’s movie reviews from March 2000 to the present.

Is there any stronger gauge of movie stardom than the ability to singlehandedly redeem an otherwise unworthy film?

Iron Man is sarcastic. Thor is arrogant. Hulk is ill-tempered. Captain America is patriotic to a fault. And Captain Marvel, a.k.a. the human Carol Danvers, a.k.a. the alien Vers, is … female. At least, that felt like the chief takeaway from Captain Marvel, whose filmmakers and star have given us a perfectly respectable comic-book role model while neglecting to make her in any way interesting.

Contrary to Tyler Perry's public statements, I don't for an instant believe that his latest showcase for the straight-shooting, bible-thumping, politically-way-incorrect Madea – Tyler Perry's A Madea Family Funeral – is going to mark the house-dress-wearing hellion's final film appearance, especially considering that the titular ceremony isn't being held for Madea her(him)self. But maybe that's just preemptive grief talking, given that Perry's latest might be his most wholly satisfying Madea outing to date.

There's so much to talk about regarding last night's host-less Oscars ceremony – Green Book's Best Picture win! Spike's speech! Olivia freakin' Colman! – that I feel both silly and a little embarrassed to open with an admission: I didn't watch it.

Or rather, I couldn't watch it. Or rather, I could, but it wasn't worth the hassle.

Given that they tend to get their jobs done even when the works themselves are crap, triumph-of-the-underdog sports flicks are perhaps the only genre movies almost completely impervious to criticism. You can fail to be amused by a comedy or excited by a thriller, but if the heroes win the big game and the music swells and everyone on-screen – and everyone sitting around you – is tearfully cheering and somehow you're still not moved? That's on you, not the film.

This year's Academy Awards telecast is scheduled to begin at 7 p.m. CST on Sunday, February 24, with no one serving as the ABC broadcast's host for the first time since the largely disastrous 1989 ceremony that opened with a musical duet for Rob Lowe and Snow White. The mind boggles at what we might be in store for this time around.

Among the front-runners for this year's Best Picture Oscar are a previous Academy Award winner's loving salute to his childhood nanny; a period bio-pic about revered music icons; a feel-good dramedy in the vein of Driving Miss Daisy; and Spike Lee's cinematic confrontation with the Ku Klux Klan that ends with searing indictments of the 2017 rally/riot in Charlottesville, Virginia, and, by extension, the president of the United States.

Guess which of these films, at present, is the least controversial.

Not two weeks ago, in What Men Want, Taraji P. Henson suffered a conk on the noggin and woke with the ability to hear men's secret thoughts. Now, in Isn't It Romantic, it's Rebel Wilson who's accidentally knocked unconscious, awakening to find her formerly grim world turned into a sunny, sprightly romantic comedy. As trends go, this one's a little disturbing: Just how much cranial damage must our female stars endure for the sake of high-concept popcorn entertainment?

Hollywood unveiled a quartet of new releases over the weekend – a comedy-hit reboot, a high-concept horror flick, a fourth franchise installment, and a Liam Neeson revenge thriller – and the only thing that seemed to link them was that they were all examples of types of movies that generally aren't good. But surprise! They were actually all good, if of undeniably varying levels of goodness.

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