If you’re after an action-packed adventure film set against turn-of-the-century Canadian wilderness, you’ll likely come away disappointed. If you’re looking for a good ol’ yarn – the kind where bad guys sneer, good guys sigh and a big dog rescues everyone and finds its true self in the process? Jackpot!

While The Lodge isn’t as hearty as the horror films it desperately wants to emulate, the filmmakers have concocted a heavy stew of emotions, left on a low simmer. In the cold winter season of "IT" children orphan horror movies, it will have to suffice our cravings.

Here’s the thing: Joan and Tom do come back from it. The couples who stay together figure out how to do that. Ordinary Love is an argument that, as hard as that is, it’s worth it.

It’s plagued from start to finish by wavering intentions that result in an unfocused, unfunny film.

All four characters are rendered as layered, believable humans, and I especially love how each resulting relationship – Cami and Rachel, Rachel and Aster, Cami and Tallulah – has its own arc and rhythm.

Meghie’s films don’t conform to conventional plot structure; her approach is more musical, more fluid. As a result, her rhythms are sometimes a little off, as the plot wanders down this or that detour. On the plus side, she makes time for naturalistic conversations.

The movie was partially shot in beautiful British Columbia. And Carrey brings a madcap mashup of his previous avatars to this turn as Dr. Robotnik.

Despite the film’s laudatory tone, a portrait of Foster is competently painted by the veteran documentarian Avrich.

As the frequency of this particular nightmare ratchets up in volume, The Antenna proves a worthy successor to the work of David Cronenberg, Ben Wheatley and the many other filmmakers who delight in the meaty material of rancid subjects.

There is certainly well-executed horror to be found here . . . and Morfydd Clark plays the title character with an unnerving zeal. But the pacing can be slow, the tension loose, and the fiery payoff injecting a killer dose of nastiness that arrives too little too late.

Mostly The Vigil feels like a novel short film stretched out to feature length.

A film I had to watch with my hands over my face at times. Part horror, suspense thriller and comedy, Come to Daddy gives us some very creative mutilation, plenty of second-hand embarrassment and laughs in a perfectly paced hour and a half.

The Traitor is an exploration of betrayal, according to Bellocchio. He seems to be asking, can a man truly change the course of his life, or is it just a pretense? Unfortunately, this account of Buscetta’s story doesn’t really give us any answers.

The film succeeds in showing how men with power can openly do essentially whatever they want as long as their company is successful, but it still left me wanting something more.

Underneath this clangy, pounding, speedy, thin, energetic confetti-shower of a movie is a collection of missed opportunities begging to be noticed.

Director Maggs tells a tough, sympathetic story in an imaginative way that makes Goalie feel like a war story.

Rabid is a limp satire with a lacklustre female protagonist, and this shallow remake of a cannibalistic rabies attack film barely leaves a mark.

Given the affordable-housing crisis in Canadian cities such as Toronto and Vancouver, there’s a lot to relate to in Rosie. One can only hope that if caught in a similar situation, one has Rosie’s grace to keep going.

Hikari’s work is well-meaning, and Kayama delivers an affecting, but not affected, performance that almost holds the story together. Eventually, though, the film loses confidence in itself.

It is fun, though, to spot the differences a female director brings to the genre.

Balagov displays the cinematic skills of an auteur at least twice his age, and both lead actresses are captivating – an especially remarkable feat given that neither had acted on-screen before. Yet as Balagov peels back the layers of Iya and Masha’s stories, Beanpole feels less like a deep cut and more like a scratch.

Everything about Gretel & Hansel is weirder, smarter and way more cinematic than I’d expected, thanks to some fascinating movie choices made by director Oz Perkins.

Panga’s strength lies in its capable cast, which brings heart to a largely contrived script that tells more than it shows.

The stellar cast manages to dignify some of it. And it’s the grizzled war veterans’ experiences that stay with you afterwards, the personal demons they keep on fighting.

Past the surface flaws of Color Out of Space, there are shiny Cage diamonds to be found.

The pacing is steady. The stories are told simply, with zero affectation or buildup by the director. The effect is astonishing.

Finally, there’s Colin Farrell, who plays a boxing coach called Coach, who tries to keep his Jamaican-English charges on, if not the straight and narrow, the straighter and narrower. He and his lads all wear plaid tracksuits, and it’s a testament to Farrell that he makes this feel entirely natural rather than stunty. He is an underrated master who can do no wrong, and I wish this movie starred him.

This film’s charm – and it does have some – lies in the fun it has with Smith and Lawrence’s aging.