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Maybe it’s time to give Southeast Asia a break. Statistically, all its prisons can’t be ruled by an evil warden whose reign of terror is rife with human rights violations.

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“Most of life seems pointless and absurd to me,” says Mortimer’s (Keir Gilchrist) opening voiceover. I feel the same way. Not about “most of life,” though; just the 90 minutes that Running on Empty lasts.

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The Good Half opens with a prologue set a couple of decades into the past. A mother is apologizing to her young son for accidentally leaving him in a store. That young boy grew up to become Nick Jonas. I would have left him too. On purpose. And never come back.

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Exhuma (original title: 파묘) taught me something I didn’t know about feng shui. I thought feng shui was nothing more than a glorified form of interior design, but that’s just the lite, Westernized version.

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Six million Jews, 1.8 million Poles, and hundreds of thousands of Serbs, Romani, disabled people, and homosexuals were murdered during the Holocaust, but Escape from Germany expects us to care about a bunch of Mormon missionaries scrambling to get the heck out of dodge before World War II breaks out. I’m reminded of something I heard somewhere about rats fleeing a sinking ship or something like that.

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What we’ve got here is not so much a metamorphosis (even if the script does name-drop Kafka) as a case of split personality/demonic possession, thereby squandering Eddie Izzard’s ability to become a nearly unrecognizable version of himself.

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The Exorcism is a behind-the-scenes look at a fictional remake of The Exorcist starring an actor, portrayed by Russell Crowe, whose name is Anthony Miller and who has a drinking problem — just like the late, great Jason Miller (born John Anthony Miller, Jr.), who played Father Karras and fathered Joshua John Miller, who in turn co-wrote and directed The Exorcism. Way to step out of your old man’s shadow, dude.

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All We Wanted is the most black-and-white color movie I’ve ever seen, to the point that it would probably take offense (although none was intended) at my use of the word ‘color.’ All the good guys are African American, and all the bad guys are Caucasian — and by ‘guys’ I mean ‘girls’ too; men may be heroic so long as they’re black, and women may be evil provided that they’re white.

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Borderlands is exactly what you would expect (i.e., not much) from a Dwayne Johnson-Kevin Hart sci-fi/fantasy adventure, but with Cate Blanchett slumming it in the Dwayne Johnson role. Tár was going to be tough to follow up, and it’s perhaps wise that Blanchett hasn’t tried to top that once-in-a-lifetime performance, but she didn’t have to make a point of going downhill either.

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The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat is not about the famous Motown trio. It’s about three lifelong friends whose destinies have been brought together by fate. Don’t look at me like that. I know that’s redundant, but I didn’t write this dumbass movie.

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Doves flying in slow motion across the gothic rib vault ceiling of an abandoned church. We’d know this is a John Woo film even if the words “Directed by John Woo” didn’t immediately appear on the screen. This visual is pregnant with promise; sadly, it’s a long labor that culminates in a miscarriage.

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The Courier (original title: El Correo) is a Spanish-Belgian-French movie, but it’s not much of a European film. It feels more like a seamlessly dubbed, crime-glorifying, American-made thriller straight from the VOD assembly line — which, at heart, it is.

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Kinds of Kindness reminds me of Resurrection. In that film, Tim Roth manipulated Rebecca Hall into performing painful, humiliating acts which he referred to as “kindnesses.” Sitting through this bloated, pretentious, self-indulgent, unfocused clusterfuck is one such kindness.

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My Dreams of You is the new dumbest Hallmark movie I’ve ever watched (the previous titleholder’s reign lasted only two weeks).

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Incoming takes the apple pie that Jason Biggs fucked, reheats it, and serves it up as the proverbial sloppy seconds.

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For a faith-based drama, The Song keeps the bible thumping to a minimum. In fact, the only time that the good book is mentioned is to point out that Peter Seeger stole the lyrics to “Turn! Turn ! Turn!” from Ecclesiastes.

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The Three Faces of Eve was no doubt made with good intentions, but the end result is about as mixed-up as its heroine.

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Fly Me to the Moon reminds me of Wag the Dog. A little because of its premise but mostly because, like a dog’s tail, it’s close to shit.

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There’s no reason this convoluted, meandering two-hour film couldn’t be a solid 90 minutes instead.

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JP

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