When a man out on a summer night’s stroll is hit by four overprivileged brats with their car and decide to down him instead of taking him to the hospital, he decides to take a year to recuperate and hatch his plan for revenge. But as the tide always comes back in, this summer…he’s reeling them in, one by one. As the attempted murderers return from college to attend pageants, parties, and pretending their consciences are clean, this fisherman starts working outside the law for justice. As our attractive and suspiciously well-groomed criminals find themselves being stalked by a raincoat-wearing lunatic with a hook for a hand and a serious grudge puts his plan into action. Will they survive? Will they stop making terrible decisions? And most importantly… will anyone ever figure out what, exactly, they did last summer?

When his partner is eaten to death by a shark that isn’t even considered real, ever-fading legend in the twilight of his credibility oceanographer Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) makes it his mission to capture the elusive perpetrator on film and prove its existence. Steve wagers what remains of his reputation on his mythical  “Jaguar Shark”: not so much an expedition as it is a slow-motion shipwreck; a budget-less revenge tour aboard a rusting death trap with his motley crew, manned by unpaid interns, a heavily armed German, and a dolphin crew that never follows basic commands. Steve brings along a boy who may or may not be his son - he isn’t sure - and a journalist who slowly realizes she is embedded in a personal breakdown. While Steve attempts to realize his dream and outmaneuver pirates, unpaid debts, his ex-wife and longtime nemesis Captain Alistair Hennessey (Jeff Goldblum), we wonder if his expedition will succeed, or if it’s just another fish story.

It all started with a routine mission to a distant planet. Then a robot offered someone a martini, a scientist had the brain of a supercomputer, and someone’s subconscious started vaporizing people - space stuff. But as things progressed the crew of starship C-57D who landed on Altair IV, expecting a few fossils and maybe a nice tan, instead finds Dr. Morbius—part-time linguist, full-time Krell groupie—and his daughter Alta, who was allergic to pants and personal boundaries. The crew soon discovers this Dr. has accessed  ancient alien tech so advanced, it made microwave popcorn seem like witchcraft. And that’s when things started to go wrong. Badly. As people begin to disappear, lasers fly. Meanwhile, I tried not to trip over Robby the Robot, who makes a mean Manhattan but can’t catch a suspect.

In the end, will we learn two most important things about space travel?

1. Never trust a man who calls himself “the sole survivor.”

2. The scariest monsters are either the ones in your head or pants - especially if your head has a degree in philology and unresolved daddy issues and his daughter doesn’t wear pants.

It’s the story of a man (Ryan Reynolds)… who discovers he’s not a man… but a guy… a guy who’s named Guy… a guy who’s a video game character… which explains why he never blinks. As lives his “life” in a city where explosions happen hourly and nobody questions why a man in a pink bunny suit is parachuting into traffic, he puts on a pair of sunglasses and suddenly sees the world for what it is: a video game full of glitches, weapons, and people teabagging each other for no reason. When he meets a mysterious woman (Jodie Comer) in leather, he finds out his whole life is code, and decides to become a hero—without cheat codes. Meanwhile, the evil tech CEO (Taika Waititi) wants to shut the whole thing down faster than a busted vending machine at Gamescom. Will Guy prove you don’t need to be real to make a difference? Or that you just need heart, courage, and an unlimited respawn counter?

This film jumps around more than a caffeinated squirrel in a trampoline factory. One minute you’re watching Vincent (John Travolta) take his boss’s wife out for milkshakes and impromptu resuscitation, the next you’re in a basement watching a gimp and wondering where all your life choices went wrong. It’s the story of a hitman, a boxer, a briefcase, a foot massage, and several unfortunate misunderstandings involving bullets and upholstery, but I was on the edge of my seat like I accidentally sat on a loaded pistol. In the end, there's redemption, revenge, dancing, divine intervention, and Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) quoting the Bible with the intensity of a man who's just found out his church picnic was canceled. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll check your wallet… it will be gone.

In what could have been the ultimate publicity stunt for skin care, a quiet Maryland seaside town’s annual celebration is turned upside down as people burst into pustules like it’s a clearance sale at the contagion outlet. As mutated aquatic bugs with the personality of a lawnmower decide to crash the party, thanks to some radioactive chicken poop and light municipal negligence (you know, small town stuff), these little monsters sneak in through the water supply. As the mayor insists everything is fine, his electorate can’t seem to stop vomiting, panicking, and developing boils the size of meatballs. The uninfected realize there’s only one thing left for them to do: try to record the outbreak on every digital device available, which is now standard emergency protocol. Will these amateur YouTubers get their message out to the public? Will they survive to see another day? And most importantly, will they need to cancel the parade?

Everything seemed normal - just until it didn’t… a group of teens entering the woods for rehabilitation; local drug dealers using steroids to boost their weed crop; and gooey cocoons popping up in the forest. But we learn quickly that troubled teens, enhanced pot farms, and Mother Nature start biting back when eight legged parasites get involved with drugs. If science has taught us anything it’s that ticks, ‘roid rage, and the munchies don’t mix, leading to giant mutant arachnids the size of meatloaf with anger issues. One of the teens, Tyler (Seth Green), discovers that giant ticks are no joke; they burrow under your skin, lay eggs in your spine, inhabit your body like an AirBNB and burst out of your body during dinner, ruining a perfectly good camping trip. Will the rest of the troubled teens panic? Or go through the ultimate team building weekend only coming out with  trauma, bite marks, and in one case, half a counselor - or possibly less (but we’re trying to stay positive and are rounding up)? Or will these teens come back rehabilitated enough to become productive members of society for Corporate America? Don’t do drugs kids.