Trying too hard to capture what it means to be a teen today, this film is neither insightful nor genuine, but it's sufficiently scary. The Midwestern small town of There's Someone Inside Your House, dotted with decrepit farmhouses, secret Nazis, and creepy corn mazes, is the perfect setting for scares. The film spares no effort in staging viciously cruel, exceptionally bloody murders. The fact that each victim is killed in a way individual to their own deepest-held secrets, which are then revealed by text message to the entire high school body, could be a teen's worst nightmare. But that's about all the film gets right about teenagers. Its reliance on unsubtle stereotypes and cliquish animosities underestimates young people today. Only one or two characters have backstories that warrant minimal exploration; everyone else is drafted in surprisingly broad strokes. A late-script monologue tries to infuse the murderer's donning of masks with deeper significance, but it's too little too late, and the comparisons to Michael Myers won't be flattering. The bright spot in the whole affair is the cast, particularly lead Sydney Park. Give these young actors a better showcase. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

The latest in a long line of documentaries about Justin Bieber shows the singer all grown up and enjoying a period of personal stability and creative productivity. Justin Bieber: Our World films the behind-the-scenes preparations, starting one month out, for an exclusive New Year's Eve concert in 2020. The chronological sequences are interspersed with scenes from the concert, sometimes in an overlapping way -- for example, showing the rehearsal of choreography with the performance of the same number. As a historical document, the film will provide one record of Covid's impact on the music industry. Crew and band members repeatedly express gratitude that they have work; the lead choreographer has to quarantine when he tests positive for the virus. The concert itself was set up in such a way that small groups watched live from isolated hotel balconies while the rest of the world streamed the event from home. The film also captures a new moment in the already well-documented life of the celebrity, often at hand-held distance as he "vlogs" his own preparations for the concert. He's accompanied by his model wife, who, among other things, sees to it that their bedroom is properly humidified to soothe his vocal cords. A slightly odd scene involves Bieber telling his wife a story about putting out a house fire with the mere sound of his singing. He isn't the only one extolling his virtues. It's surprisingly touching to hear people who've been with the singer for more than a decade talk about his friendship and reflect on his growth. Bieber might sing about being "Lonely," but this film takes pains to show how his relationships have contributed to his music, performances, and life. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

Dark in subject matter as well as aesthetics, Antoine Fuqua's remake of Danish film Den Skyldige transfers the tense thriller to Los Angeles. But LA is seen only in televised images and maps in The Guilty, which is set entirely in a police dispatch office. Instead, the city of extremes lies just outside the window. Like the violence communicated via 911 calls, it's suggested and overheard rather than seen, which lets the viewer imagine it and adds to the tension. The film cleverly employs light, sound, and the single moody office setting to render the state of mind of Jake Gyllenhaal's Joe Baylor. The tightly-wound detective clearly has anger issues, and he also seems to be suffering from severe stress, all of which Gyllenhaal -- the camera's solitary focus for 90 minutes -- sweats and flexes through. The film depends on his ability to sustain this tension convincingly. Meanwhile, the enigma behind his character's circumstances parallels the mystery he's unraveling in 911 calls from an apparently abducted woman. Nothing is as it seems. Fuqua puts viewers at unease from the start, opening on Joe struggling for breath in a cold, white bathroom. Joe returns to his post in a blue-black dispatch office lit by computer screens, desk lamps, and dim light filtering in through half-closed blinds. On a wall of television screens, images of wildfires blaze across LA. Only when Joe seems to find a semblance of peace do the glowing fires appear extinguished. Most of the time, he can barely contain his angst. Ambient noises come and go, replaced by muffled sounds, echoing, or ringing, as if we are inside Joe's head. The voices behind the calls are played by well-known actors like Ethan Hawke, Riley Keough, and Peter Sarsgaard, but none are seen on screen. The snippets of their panicked calls are meant to disquiet. They weave a devastating story that broaches contemporary topics like police violence and social inequities, and one which only clears up -- like the skies over Los Angeles -- at the end of the movie. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

The royals continue to have a moment, and Netflix's streaming of this Broadway musical about Lady Di adds to the zeitgeist without breaking new territory. In Diana: The Musical, the star is portrayed as a pawn -- sweet, naïve, well-intentioned, and ultimately underestimated. It's not a new vision, fawning as it is, but setting it to song and dance is novel. However, this recording shows how difficult it is to offer a fresh or deeper take on such a familiar subject, especially while rhyming and hitting marks. The power of a live performance is hard to capture on film, and theater settings look static in a movie no matter how cleverly they're staged, so the entertainment value of this film relies on fascination for the subject as well as the performances on display (film can offer close-ups you won't get from an auditorium seat), which are fine but not groundbreaking. The quick pacing from number to number helps avoid too many lulls in the two hours. But two humorous numbers -- the introduction of sexy James Hewitt and Diana's butler's recommendation that she don an "eff you" dress to spite her husband -- are the definite highlights of the affair, suggesting that this work would've benefited overall from more self aware and, well, more entertaining pieces like these. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

One of the most talked-about subjects of its moment, this documentary is likely to elicit either fascination or disdain. Some of those interviewed in Britney vs Spears seem either hesitant to talk or unwilling to offer full details of their involvement in the celebrity's career and life. Other voices are notably absent from complicit participation, including all of the Spears family, though they're seen in significant video footage and some new material in Britney's own words and handwriting. Instead, filmmaker Erin Lee Carr and her research partner, journalist Jenny Eliscu, pick through documents, highlight photographs, scroll through recreated text and voice messages, and interview a tight circle around the star (notably two ex-boyfriends as well as a biographer, former managers and assistants, lawyers, and doctors) to piece together the strange story of the conservatorship of Britney by her father. One of the most unique aspects of Britney vs Spears is the granting of quite so much camera time to Carr and Eliscu themselves. Their real-time discoveries -- and the impressions and opinions they share about the subject -- aren't particularly compelling cinema. Nor are they in any way objective: Fan Carr admits she was "obsessed" with Britney as a young girl, and Eliscu sheds tears recounting a time she dropped her role of journalist to do Britney a favor. They lambast the "patriarchy" controlling the singer. Their partiality also comes across in the film's line of reasoning and effects (like ominous music over dad Jamie Spears' image or calculated absence of some well-known images of Britney's "meltdown"). This is advocacy more than reporting, but if you're just interested in perspectives on what has happened to the star over the last two decades, you'll certainly find them here. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

You could easily dig for a political message in this film, but if all young viewers take away is the positivity of the sweet characters, tone, and messages, that's plenty. When My Little Pony: A New Generation's characters sing about welcoming others rather than "building your wall," a marching mob following their leader "brainlessly," or how a sheriff's badge creates an "unhealthy power dynamic," it's hard not to find parallels with the human world. But the film never gets too heavy or tries to make us forget we're in Equestria, with visually-rich and magical settings, candy-colored ponies, cute bunnies and other wild creatures, and language like "everypony," "somepony," and "thank hoofness." The star-studded voice cast brings these ponies to galloping life. Musical numbers vary between sweet, pop, and hilarious, with Ken Jeong's angry mob number standing out as particularly memorable. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

Shine Your Eyes is a sensitive and thoughtful movie that invites the viewer to decipher themes and ideas suggested in both the story and the way it's filmed. Responsibility for this tale ringing true rests entirely on the shoulders of actor OC Ukeje, who plays Amadi. We view this foreign city, Sao Paulo, through his eyes, and as the star of just about every scene in the film, Ukeje deftly communicates his character's internal struggles with family and culture as well as the foreigner's wonder, confusion, apprehension, and need to trust in others. Director Matias Mariani underscores these conflicting sensations by conspicuously framing characters within the triangular angles of Sao Paulo's urban constructions. Set up as a mystery, the untangling of the missing brother's circumstances is much less interesting than Amadi's own journey of discovery. That may be why the relationships Amadi forms in Sao Paulo and his own internal battles make for compelling storylines that carry Shine Your Eyes, while a scene of reunion toward the end meant to be climactic feels a little disappointing. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

Senegalese-French director Maïmouna Doucouré has created an evocative, compassionate portrait of young girls finding their identity and values in Cuties. In the hands of a less capable director, Cuties could easily have felt exploitative of its child actors, something the film was accused of in an initial (and controversial) marketing campaign in the United States. Doucouré films the girls close up as they move their bodies in a sensual way and strike suggestive poses in halter tops, short-shorts, and excessive makeup. But she offers these scenes precisely in order to shock, because they should be shocking. The public's reaction to the girls' final performance in the film reveals as much. The subtlety is in the way Doucouré captures the young girls' innocence. Despite their poses, they're not exactly informed about sex. They regularly collapse into piles of giggles. Amy isn't truly trying to provoke; she just wants to fit in. That's where the context comes in: Set in the multicultural Parisian exurbs, Doucouré offers intriguing glimpses into the role of women in the Senegalese community. Amy is torn between the traditional values she's being taught at home and the draw of her new friends and culture. This feels both typical and an exceptionally perceptive portrayal of the plight of adolescence and the immigrant experience bundled into one. Some images will stick with you long after this film -- Amy's symbolic wedding dress, her father's new bride shrouded in white, the girls' poses, and a beautiful closing scene of Amy bouncing back, literally, into her community and her childhood. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

Fast-paced, clever and hugely entertaining, this film will delight fans of Millie Bobby Brown and surely bring her more followers thanks to this outstanding role. Brown has become a cultural icon of girl power: Girls everywhere wanted to be her Stranger Things character Eleven, and now they'll crave to be the fiercely independent, confident, wily Enola, too. Brown (who's also a producer on Enola Holmes) pairs off against a cast of established actors, including Helena Bonham Carter and Henry Cavill, and she fills nearly every scene with energy and intelligence in a role that's as physical as it is emotional. The technique of having her character conspiratorially break the fourth wall to talk directly to the camera (like a teen-friendly Fleabag) creates complicity with the viewer. Interestingly, that playful dialogue seems to come and go with her character's own confidence and fortune. Sherlock fans may be reluctant to accept a younger and more forward-thinking sister who outsmarts the great detective. And history buffs may bristle at the imposition of some contemporary values on late 1800s-era London. But smashing historical constructions and patriarchal obstacles seems to be exactly the point. And, anyway, doesn't the magic of many movies lie precisely in the suspension of disbelief? Yes, Enola's regular combat conquests and speedy deductions are suspect. But really, who cares when a film is so well put together and just plain fun to watch? Considering that there are several books in the source series, here's hoping that Enola Holmes marks the start of a new franchise. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

What I Am Greta lacks in dramatic tension, it makes up for in character. The documentary will find a natural audience among climate activists and those curious about the young girl from Sweden who launched a global youth movement, though it's decidedly more about the latter than the former. Viewers' curiosity will be sated with footage of Greta's home life, parents, school, early start as an activist, and some interactions with peers. The film explores her personality and the weight of responsibility she feels for both the climate and her symbolic status, and it touches on a challenging childhood that included years of selective mutism and social isolation. There are clips from some of her biggest speeches and marches, including the U.N. summit where she angrily condemned adult inaction on climate change in her now famous "How dare you" speech. There's also quite a fascinating, if selective, montage of clips from TV commentators and world leaders questioning her authority, calling her a "brat" and "mentally ill" (in reference to her Asperger's syndrome) and telling her to "shut up" and "grow up." All along the way, including on a daunting wind-powered boat trip across the Atlantic, her father is with her, reminding her to eat, beseeching her to let go of the details of a speech, convincing her to go home to rest. Greta remains laser-focused throughout, underscoring her suggestion that the world might actually focus better on issues like climate change if everyone "had a little bit of Asperger's." Read the full review on Common Sense Media.

There are moments in Penguin Bloom where you feel time is standing still or moving especially slowly. It's used as an intentional effect, like when Sam drops into the sea in slow motion or seems to step outside her own body to remember her debilitating fall. But that stillness also comes across in scenes where we watch from Sam's perspective as regular life happens all around her, as if nothing had changed. The sun continues to rise and fall while she sits still. For her, everything has changed; she's stuck, and the visual imagery of the film communicates that, including in the symbolism of the jars of honey the family produces. The cinematography is quite beautiful and used as a powerful tool in conveying the Blooms' story, but so is Watts' quiet and determined performance as Sam. The parallels between Sam's journey towards recovery and the abandoned magpie's can feel a little heavy-handed at times, if not predictable. "She doesn't want to be stuck inside, does she?" they ask. But the connection is also sweet: When Sam cares for Penguin, she smiles for the first time. Among all the things she feels she's lost, mothering may be the hardest. The film is narrated by the oldest of her three boys, Noah, tenderly portrayed by Griffin Murray-Johnston. He blames himself for the fall, and we also see the accident, the trauma, and the recovery from his perspective. When he and his brothers skateboard on the roof of their house or jump off the roof onto the trampoline below, they're free and nimble and young, but you can't help but sense the tension of another potential accident waiting to happen. The fact that it doesn't feels doubly liberating. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

This melodrama from Turkey features some great performances, a moving storyline with a surprise ending, and intriguing glimpses of life in Istanbul. Central to the film, and what sustains interest from start to finish, is the sweet relationship between the main characters of Paper Lives (also known as Struggling Alley, the telling name of the street Mehmet lives on). Ulusoy does a stirring job embodying an ailing man with a traumatic background whose seeming last gasp at happiness comes in the form of the adorable Ali. They must have had to rough up the well-known TV actor and model a bit to pull off playing a sick man struggling to make ends meet in an Istanbul slum. His best friend and frequent caretaker, Gonzi, is played by the charismatic Arici, who leads a festive song-and-dance scene at the local baths. The look of the film is purposefully dark, though even the slums -- full of squatters and kids sniffing glue -- are bright and colorful during the day, bathed in Mediterranean light. The city of Istanbul is an additional character here, a study in contrasts -- edged by lapping waves, connected by modern bridges, dotted with Parisian-looking cafes, called to prayer across loudspeakers. This is a place where, in this telling, males endearingly call each other "brother" yet swarms of boys apparently live on the street, abandoned, sometimes fleeing abuse, drawn to dabbling in drugs. A recurring theme in the film is the need boys and men feel for a loving, protective mother figure. Atmospheric traditional music also sets the mood in several scenes, including one melancholic sequence driving away from the ER while a voice on the radio sings, "I have an objection to my cruel destiny ... to this endless agony." The musician captures Mehmet's feelings exactly. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.