Ryan Syrek

Fitting for a movie entirely about a wedding, my solemn vow to you—for every review, until death do us part—is always “no spoilers.” That makes this one particularly challenging. Not quite as challenging as the one that the marketing team had when promoting writer/director Kristoffer Borgli’s The Drama, but a challenge nonetheless.

The redundancy and repetition of required routines have long been the bogeymen of modern life. Exit 8 makes Kafkaesque nightmares literal, with the added twist of tying one’s eternal fate to an exceptionally challenging game of “spot the difference.” Turns out that Highlights for Kids magazines were actually missives from hell.

Do you know that you’re allowed to Barbenheimer anytime you want? That’s not a euphemism. Also, I haven’t checked the laws in every state. You may not be able to Barbenheimer in Utah. But assuming it is legal, watching two wholly unrelated, tonally disparate movies in a short period of time can be a real hoot.

Be warned: An alternative headline for this review may well be “Movie not intended for reviewer did not fully satisfy reviewer.” I consider anything outside of graphic T-shirts to be “high fashion.” Thus, there was a smaller-than-infinitesimal chance that The Devil Wears Prada 2

The phrase “accuracy slop” does a wonderful job briefly articulating the insecure fan-servicing that risk-averse studio executives are increasingly hiding behind. Mortal Kombat II looks and sounds quite a bit like its video game source material. So what?

Both as a public service announcement and because it is genuinely grating amateur-hour nonsense: Obsession has a beloved pet’s death in its first five minutes. It is later the basis for several jokes, which will either worsen or lessen your reaction to the literal worst story beat a human can devolve to using. Take note, AI overlords.

First off, Jaba the Hutt is almost nobody’s favorite character, even if he is physically and politically evocative of at least one notable modern figure. Sure, there is probably some rabid subreddit demanding more Hutt-on-Hutt action. But they are inarguably goofy-looking one-note annoying characters, and that’s before someone makes Jeremy Allen White voice one that is

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The past is objectively terrifying. Our memories are nothing but warped unreality. If you could really zoom in, nothing would look right. Every place we “vividly remember” would be horribly malformed. The people wouldn’t even really look like people.

The last 30 or 45 minutes of Masters of the Universe finally understands the real power was inside of it the entire time. And that power is stupidity. Awesome stupidity, to be clear. But stupidity nonetheless. Sadly, the first hour and a half is a confused, lame mess that feels like it was written by committee.