Patrizia Reggiani (Lady Gaga) meets and falls in love with the wealthy Maurizio Gucci (Adam Driver) despite the disapproval of his father, Rodolfo (Jeremy Irons). She persuades Maurizio to join the family business and ends up causing him to rival with his cousin, Paulo (Jared Leto), son of Aldo (Al Pacino), and eventually leading the family down a dark path of crime. While she travels and lives an extravagant life, she sees a psychic, Pina Auriemma (Salma Hayek).

      House of Gucci is a hot mess that doesn't work as a biopic nor as a crime drama. Based on the book by Sara Gay Forden, the unfocused screenplay by Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna favors style over substance while failing to get inside the heart, mind and soul of its characters. The hope for some kind of substance and intrigue is there, but everyone remains at a cold distance from the audience, even Patrizia and Maurizio. Why not let the audience get to know them more during their private moments and to get more of a glimpse of their innate struggles? Just because the Guccis might've been cold, shallow people doesn't mean that they're not human beings with thoughts and feelings of their own. When it comes to the tone, that's where the film becomes the most chaotic and lazy. At times, it's campy, but in a very awkward way. There's a sex scene with Patrizia and Maurizio on a desk which is filmed in a way that's unintentionally funny, almost like the pool sex scene in Showgirls. If House of Gucci were a spoof, i.e. Mafia!, perhaps that scene would've been fitting. Bad laughs don't belong in anything that's not a spoof or a campy satire.

      The screenwriters also do a terrible job of handling the darker elements of the film like one of the character's deaths which happens so suddenly and with no explanation of how he died until later in the film during the end credits. That's just one of the few examples of the screenplay's clunky and poor exposition. In any great biopic or any non-comedy or action film for that matter, the characters start as strangers to the audience and by the time the end credits roll, they're no longer strangers. Unfortunately, by the end of House of Gucci everyone still remains a stranger to the audience. It's no help that the ending, when the Gucci family gets their inevitable comeuppance, feels rushed and contrived, i.e during the unusually short court scenes. Why hurry though scenes that the audience was most likely anticipating? That's like eating a light, unfulfilling main course while you're hoping for a satisfying dessert, but you end up being served a tiny, underwhelming dessert instead.

      Speaking of main courses, House of Gucci has such a long running time, nearly 3 hours, that it's surprising that it's much less than the sum of its parts. A lot happens, yet so little actually sticks. Perhaps that has something to do with the shallow screenplay, but it might also be because Lady Gaga lacks the acting chops to handle emotionally complex roles or to rise above a weak screenplay. Adam Driver has much more skill as does Al Pacino and Jeremy Iron, but he's undermined by the lackluster screenplay. Jared Leto looks nearly unrecognizable as Paulo. Although he physically transforms into his role, his actual performance leaves much to be desired because his Italian accent sounds so awful like nails on a chalkboard; again, it steers the film unintentionally toward being a spoof. The editing feels choppy at times with awkward transitions between scenes. The film's main strengths, though, are the lively soundtrack and, just as expected, the stylish fashion design and make-up. None of those feats are nearly enough to invigorate the film as a whole. At a running time of 2 hours and 39 minutes, House of Gucci is an overlong, vapid and uneven biopic that bites off much more than it could chew.

      Brigid (Beanie Feldstein) and her boyfriend, Richard (Steven Yeun), host a Thanksgiving dinner at their new apartment in New York City's Chinatown. Their guests include Brigid's mother, Deirdre (Jayne Houdyshell), father, Erik (Richard Jenkins), older sister, Aimee (Amy Schumer) and grandmother, Momo (June Squibb). Dark secrets from each of them get revealed throughout the night.

       The Humans, based on the play by writer/director Stephen Karam, is the kind of film that's hard to classify in a one particular genre. On the surface, it looks like it could be a psychological horror drama in the vein of Rosemary's Baby and The Shining. Beneath the surface, it's the story of a dysfunctional family whose members are suffering in their own way. They might seem like a somewhat functional family initially, but the screenplay by writer/director Stephen Karam gradually shatters that as the night progresses. The film gets darker and deeper as Brigid and her family members reveal their intimate thoughts and feelings. Karam does a great job of fucking with the mind of the audience by playing around with their imagination. Something supernatural may or may not be occurring. Is there an evil presence lurking inside or outside of the apartment? The answer to that question remains open to interpretation. There's no clear villain, but the more you get to know Richard, the more he seems very toxic. His problem with alcoholism is just the tip of the iceberg. A sense of unease and foreboding horror can be felt from start to finish which reflects the family's escalating tensions. Fortunately, the dialogue sounds natural without any stiltedness, and the characters feel like complex human beings with inner lives, emotional pain and fragility.

    The apartment becomes like a character in itself with its deteriorating walls and strange, unexplained sounds. There are many shots throughout the film that are just as creepy as some of the scenes in Paranormal Activity, especially when the lights go out. In one particular nighttime scene, the reflection in the window of two candlelights looks like eyes. Karam uses sound design, cinematography and lighting to maximum effect when it comes to teasing the audience with horror elements. It makes The Humans an unnerving, intense experience. "Where is this all headed towards?" is a question that will be on your mind eventually, and the answer isn't necessarily what you think will be which makes the film all the more unpredictable. Much of the film lives inside the imagination of the audience, so it all depends on how you're conditioned to think what a horror film is. The third act, which won't be revealed here, is poetic because it can be seen as a metaphor that, yet again, leaves room for interpretation as for what it's a metaphor of.  Writer/director Stephen Karam wisely avoids spoon-feeding the audience or preaching to them. The Humans, much like Mass, asks a lot from the audience, but films that ask for a lot usually end up giving a lot, too, which is the case here. Regardless of how you interpret the metaphors, The Humans leaves you thinking about the meaning of the title and opens up the discussion of what all the creepy atmosphere actually means. As the title implies, the characters on-screen are your species.

       The performances by everyone in The Humans also help to make it engrossing. It's refreshing to see Amy Schumer playing against type like Melissa McCarthy did in Can You Ever Forgive Me?. She has the acting chops to handle dramatic roles. The same can be said about Beanie Feldstein. Richard Jenkins and Jayne Houdyshell are well-cast and breathe life into their roles. At times, the talky scenes can seem stagey--after all, it's based on a play--but it's never stuffy, and Karam tries to make it look and feel as cinematic as possible with the cinematography. Karam also avoids veering into maudlin, melodramatic or over-the-top territory. See The Feast if you prefer over-the-top endings rather than nuanced, poignant ones. If you like your holiday movies bold, profound, haunting and refreshingly un-Hollywood, The Humans would be right up your alley. At a running time of 1 hour and 48 minutes, it's spellbinding, provocative and haunting. 

      Claire Redfield (Kaya Scodelario) returns to her small Midwestern hometown, Raccoon City, to warn her brother Chris (Robbie Amell) about something nefarious that she thinks is going on there involving the Umbrella Corporation, a large pharmaceutical company that relocated from the town. Police chief Brian Irons (Donal Logue) and officers Jill Valentine (Hannah John-Kamen), Albert Wesker (Tom Hopper) and Leon S. Kennedy (Avan Jogia) investigate what happened to the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team who were sent to the Spencer Mansion in Raccoon City before disappearing. Meanwhile, the town residents turn into zombies one by one, so the survivors must fight for their lives.

      Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City begins with a prologue that's scarier than the scenes that follow it. After the prologue, the screenplay by writer/director Johannes Roberts takes its time to introduce the audience to the many characters. They have first and last names, but they're one-dimensional caricatures who are just there to move the plot forward. There's nothing wrong with a B-movie as long as it's fun to watch and doesn't take itself too seriously. Unfortunately, this prequel to Resident Evil eventually runs out of steam and becomes a bland, tedious action thriller that's merely going through the motions. The action scenes are intermittently thrilling and unflinchingly gory, so at least it will please audiences looking for blood and gore. When it comes to story, though, the film falters because it lacks suspense. The villain is one-dimensional, bland and forgettable. There's also not enough comic relief or levity, so the monotony starts leading to boredom around the hour mark.

      If Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City were at a lean 90 minutes, perhaps it wouldn't been more effective as a zombie thriller. The pacing feels uneven and the first act takes too long to get going with too many characters. Roberts fails to bring any of the characters to life. If they felt remotely human, the audience would be able to care about them and root for them. The only character who's remotely worth rooting for is Leon, but that's only because the underrated Avan Jogia brings plenty of his charisma to that role. The visual effects look decent, but the production design has nothing exceptional; the other Resident Evil films looked slick and stylish, but this particular one lacks a style that's pleasing to the eye. At a running time of 1 hour 47 minutes, which feels more like 2 hours and 30 minutes, Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City is a shallow, unimaginative and tedious B-movie that's not entertaining enough to be a guilty pleasure. Be sure to stay through the end credits for a mid-credits sequence.