Moana 2 takes us back to the breathtaking world of Oceania, but unfortunately, this follow-up feels more like a haphazard detour than a grand voyage. Directed by David G. Derrick Jr., Jason Hand, and Dana Ledoux Miller, the movie brings back the adventurous spirit of Moana, now paired with Maui and a cast of painfully irritating side characters. What should have been an epic cinematic journey instead feels like a collection of B-roll footage from a TV pilot that somehow wound up on the big screen.

First, the good: Auliʻi Cravalho continues to shine as Moana. Her voice acting is heartfelt, her singing is gorgeous, and it’s clear her talents have only grown since the original film. Every scene she’s in has a flicker of the magic that made Moana a classic. Unfortunately, she’s the only real anchor here, because nearly everything else about the movie feels like it’s struggling to stay afloat.

Dwayne Johnson’s Maui, who stole scenes in the first movie with his charm and bravado, is barely trying this time around. Johnson’s performance feels phoned in, as though he recorded his lines while scrolling Instagram. His much-anticipated new song, “Can I Get a Chee Hoo?”, is a cringe-inducing disaster that may go down as one of the worst Disney songs of all time. Imagine You’re Welcome stripped of its wit, catchiness, and joy, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of why this number should have been left on the cutting room floor.

Then we have the new crew. Oh boy. First up, Moni, who spends the entire movie fangirling over Maui to the point of exhaustion. His over-the-top adoration, which might have been cute in moderation, quickly becomes unbearable. Loto, another newcomer, is somehow even worse—her contribution to one of the film’s songs is completely illegible, a garbled mess that makes you wonder if the sound editors just gave up.

But the most baffling addition is Matangi, a bat-woman character who is, frankly, a walking question mark. She shows up as if she’s about to be the main antagonist, only to do a complete 180 when Moana walks into her life. Why? Who is she? What is she doing there? The movie gives us zero answers, leaving her as an incoherent jumble of motives and cryptic dialogue. Her presence feels like a placeholder for a villain who never got written into the script.

Speaking of villains, we don’t even meet the true antagonist until the post-credits scene. Yes, you read that right—the big bad is completely absent from the main film, which leaves the story feeling rudderless. Instead of building tension or stakes, Moana 2 drifts aimlessly through pretty set pieces and half-baked conflicts that never quite come together.

The rushed pacing only makes things worse. It’s obvious this wasn’t meant to be a standalone movie. The plot feels like it was ripped from a storyboard for a TV series, with loose threads and underdeveloped arcs everywhere you look. Every time the movie hints at something deeper, it cuts to the next scene without resolving anything, leaving you with the sinking feeling that you’ve missed an episode.

Even the music, which was a highlight of the original film, is a letdown here. Without Lin-Manuel Miranda’s touch, the songs lack the spark and emotional resonance that made Moana’s soundtrack unforgettable. Most of the numbers are bland and forgettable, and the absolute low point is Maui’s aforementioned “Chee Hoo”. It’s so bad you’ll be tempted to walk out of the room—or at least hit mute.

All in all, Moana 2 is an underwhelming sequel that struggles to justify its existence. While Auliʻi Cravalho’s performance and the occasional gorgeous animation remind us of what could have been, the weak story, insufferable side characters, and uninspired music drag the whole thing down. This was clearly meant to be a TV series, and as a movie, it feels out of place, incomplete, and just plain disappointing.

Verdict: Watch it once if you’re a die-hard Moana fan, but don’t expect to set sail on an adventure you’ll want to revisit.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a ghoulishly entertaining sequel that takes us back to the kooky world of Winter River, and, well… it’s exactly what you’d expect. It’s fun in the moment, full of quirky visuals, and Michael Keaton is clearly having the time of his undead life, but beneath the surface, there’s not much that’s new. The movie leans heavily on nostalgia with a few fresh gags, but in the end, it’s a ghostly echo of the original.

Michael Keaton, as the iconic “bio-exorcist,” steals every scene with his signature chaotic energy. He’s a whirlwind of charisma, cracking wise and pulling faces as only he can. If you came for Beetlejuice himself, Keaton delivers and then some. The man is clearly having a blast, and his enthusiasm is infectious. It’s like he’s been waiting decades to let the ghost loose, and he goes full-throttle from start to finish.

Then we have Winona Ryder as Lydia, now a mom and low-key goth grandma. Ryder leans into her old lady voice, giving us shades of her softer, quieter performance from Edward Scissorhands. For some reason, though, her dialogue is often so quiet it’s like she’s ghost-whispering half the time. But Ryder brings a kind of gentle nostalgia to the role, even if she occasionally feels like she’s only half-there in a scene.

And then there’s the new addition: Jenna Ortega as Astrid, Lydia’s teenage daughter. Astrid, to put it bluntly, is the film’s designated “plot instigator.” Her character blunders through every obvious trap, earning her the unofficial award for “2024’s Dumbest Kid in a Movie.” She’s the one who accidentally opens the portal to the Afterlife, kicking off the whole plot, and while it’s clear the movie needed a trigger for chaos, Astrid’s decision-making is… let’s just say, questionable. Ortega’s performance doesn’t help either, as her delivery is flatter than a spirit in a séance. Whether that’s due to direction or a deliberate “teenage ennui” vibe, it’s hard to say, but her character feels more like a plot device than a fully formed person, which is a shame.

On the technical side, the film does a decent job with its visuals and set design. There’s a touch of the original’s whimsical horror, with quirky practical effects and a few memorable set pieces that nod to Tim Burton’s trademark style. And while there are plenty of callbacks and a bit of recycled material, it’s not so excessive that it becomes grating. However, the CGI and some of the effects can feel a bit lackluster, not quite reaching the eerie charm of the original’s practical effects.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice delivers a few laughs and plenty of nostalgia, but it’s more of a one-time romp than a classic rewatch. It’s fun in a popcorn-movie sort of way, with a few memorable moments, and if you’re a fan of Keaton’s Beetlejuice, it’s worth checking out. But when the dust settles, it’s ultimately just alright, an enjoyable but fleeting experience. It’s good for some laughs, but if you’re hoping for a fresh take or a truly haunting sequel, you might find yourself feeling like the movie missed the mark.

Speak No Evil, James Watkins’ remake of the chilling Dutch original, takes the concept of a dream holiday and twists it into an expertly crafted psychological nightmare. With tension so thick it feels like a vice around your chest, the film combines social horror with slow-burn suspense, creating a darkly magnetic experience that you’ll be thinking about long after the credits roll.

Let’s just say it outright: James McAvoy absolutely owns this film. His performance as the charming yet quietly unnerving British patriarch is nothing short of magnetic, infusing the character with layers that keep you teetering between intrigue and dread. He charms, disarms, and chills in equal measure, making every scene he’s in as unpredictable as it is riveting. McAvoy’s ability to switch from warm to deeply unsettling in the blink of an eye is what makes Speak No Evil work so well, leaving viewers glued to the screen even as the tension ratchets up.

The film doesn’t hide its cards. Right from the start, you feel that something is off with this picturesque setup—a family invited by newfound “friends” to a lovely estate in the countryside. The danger is plain as day, almost daring you to shout warnings to the screen. And yet, Watkins’ direction is so precise that even though you see what’s coming, you can’t look away. Instead, you feel every creeping shadow, every pregnant silence, with an intensity that’s hard to shake.

Watkins brilliantly crafts each scene, building dread in subtle ways that dig into your psyche. The setting, lush and deceptively inviting, contrasts sharply with the simmering danger lurking underneath. The result is a film that grips you from the beginning and slowly, unrelentingly, pulls you into its twisted heart. The idyllic backdrop, with its rolling hills and vintage charm, only amplifies the horror—turning what should feel like paradise into a gilded cage you know they won’t escape from.

If there’s one gripe in an otherwise exceptional thriller, it’s that the characters occasionally make some questionable choices. You know the ones: those “don’t go in there!” moments that make you want to shout at the screen. But even these minor lapses serve to draw you further into the narrative. Because, let’s be real—Speak No Evil isn’t just horror; it’s a social horror. It plays on the agonizing tension between politeness and survival instincts, leaving the audience squirming as the characters’ naivety and trust override their better judgment. It’s a brilliant study of how far people will go to avoid awkwardness, even when every fiber of their being screams “run.”

The suspense, meanwhile, is palpable. Watkins knows how to build a scene to its breaking point without overdoing it, letting every small gesture and glance linger just long enough to keep you on edge. The moments of horror aren’t bombastic or bloody but rooted in the unbearable discomfort and dread that pervades every interaction. It’s a masterclass in restraint, where every uncomfortable silence and clipped sentence lands like a punch to the gut.

All in all, Speak No Evil is a horror-thriller that does exactly what it sets out to do. It’s an unflinching exploration of social tension and psychological dread, guided by Watkins’ razor-sharp direction and McAvoy’s knockout performance. Even when the characters make those maddening decisions, you’re too caught up in the nightmare to look away. If you’re after a suspenseful, brilliantly acted thriller that leaves you unnerved and questioning just how much you’d trust a stranger, Speak No Evil is well worth the watch.