Lucifer is less a fully satisfying experience than a spotty showcase for its star, who carries enough of the load to make it worthwhile.

Have you ever tried to do a Paul McCartney impersonation? If you have, it’s probably better than the feature-length attempt in this embarrassing fan fiction.

Death House looks like a stupid, fun throwaway picture, but in execution, tries far too hard to be scintillating in a way no one who presses play on a movie called Death House would ever desire.

So what are we left with when the eponymous monster only occupies about 3% of the movie's visual stocking stuffers? Cinematic coal, essentially.

You will never forget those pancakes.

Stumbles with the thrills and the attention to detail, but nonetheless finds some meaningful observations about the dichotomy between the lonely tinkerers of the old computer age and the glossy models who live and thrive within the framework those shunned nerds built.

Elucidates why some nations might imagine invasion as a form of liberation, freeing them from the firm hand of the British colonial state.

Crossing action movies, sci-fi and comedy in a vehicle for stars from the WWF, Suburban Commando doesn’t satisfy anybody’s genre expectations.

Murder Party offers the kind of midnight-movie comedy-horror indulgence that manages to rise just barely above your average Netflix bargain-basement schlock.

Everything about Hellbenders screamed hidden gem, but its low ratings on IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes may be a little too high.