While the movie starts off with an engagingly familiar hook — take lonely girls: Emma (Bethlehem Million, “Throuple”), Julia (Alex Essoe, “Death of Me”), Harriet (Ally Ioannides, “Jesus Revolution”), Lex (Juliette Kenn De Balinthazy) and Dusty (Bex Taylor-Klaus, “Blackbird”), isolate them and put them at the mercy of a cult-like family — it never truly forms into something more than its collective parts. Worse, these collective parts move at a glacial pace, inching forward for a payoff that only shows its hand late into the film’s 100-minute runtime. Patience, apparently, is key in this mostly shallow, slow-moving venture.

The thin layer of suspense, concocted by a quintet of mostly first time screenwriters (Ariel Vida, Cullen Poythress, David Blair, Megan Sutherland and Sean E. DeMott), is one that any horror movie lover can see through long before the gotcha is revealed. This is especially true since the owner of the weed farm, Mona (Jane Badler, “The Lies We Tell Ourselves”), is instantly recognizable as someone hiding a lot of secrets. But without going into spoilers I will say the reveal is executed well enough and that weed does thankfully play a large role in the overall narrative, just it’s much more of the chill strain than I think people would anticipate.

Because of the first half’s aggressively slow exposition, viewers are left to idly sit by and watch the paper-thin and equally motivated characters “grow” to know one another better. Emma, our main protagonist, is most skeptical of this obviously sketchy job but outside of that, she is hardly differentiated from the rest of the group which includes a non-binary character for the sake of having a non-binary character. Without a solid character arc throughout the story, we are stuck with one-note characters that would rarely make it past the first draft stage of a screenplay.

Putting the slow start and nondescript characters to the side, once the gore does finally start flowing, it’s extremely chunky and visceral. Some spooky lighting design also enhances the blood bath, making what we so long waited for that much more pleasing. For “stoner horror” (is this a horror subgenre?), it’s got some great weed motifs, but it takes much longer than it should to get to most of them. If you’re planning on lighting up before the film I recommend going easy as you might pass out long before the movie gets good.

Winner of the award for best film, screenplay, and production design at the Fajr Film Festival in Iran, Sun Children is performed by non-professional actors whose real lives on Tehran’s streets mirror those of the characters. While the quality of the acting does not always rise above the level of adequate, the performances do not distract from the authenticity of the screenplay or from our understanding of the festering social problems. Scored by Ramin Kousha’s, the film is seen through the eyes of children led by Ali (Roohollah Zamani), a determined boy of about 12 who sleeps in the back of a tire factory, Mamad (Mahdi Mousavi), Reza (Mani Ghafouri), and Abolfazl (Abolfazl Shirzad) an Afghan refugee who, like other Afghans in Iran, is only authorized to be hired for specific jobs within his area of residence, mostly manual labor.

The film opens when Ali leads his young friends in an escape from an underground parking lot after being caught stealing hubcaps and tires from parked cars. After another chase that features jumping over rooftops, Ali is caught and brought to Heshem (Ali Nasirian, “A Hairy Tale”), the local crime boss cast in the image of Fagin, Dickens’ stereotyped bogeyman in “Oliver Twist.” Though expecting punishment, he is asked instead to hunt for buried treasure in the basement of the Sun School, a poor, charitable educational institution run by volunteers to help vulnerable street kids reach high school or join a local sports team.

Because of the state of the school’s finances, the boys have to plead for their enrollment but find a friend in the sympathetic Vice-Principal, Mr. Rafie (Javad Ezati, “Drown”), a low-keyed fighter for underdogs who asks the administrator to make an exception on the boys’ behalf. Impressed by Ali’s determination for an education, Rafie is unaware of the boys’ scheme to find treasure at the behest of the crime kingpin. He shows his compassion when he takes Ali and Abolfazi to bail out Abolfazi’s sister Zahra (Shamila Shurzad) after her arrest for selling trinkets in the subway. On leaving, an irate Rafie breaks the jailer’s nose, an action that will later lead to his arrest. Meanwhile, the school has problems of its own.

The Principal, Mr. Amani (Ali Ghabeshi), is concerned about paying the rent and rails against the increase in the prices of the food suppliers. Motivated by his desire to bring home his mother (Tannaz Tabatagaei, “Russian”) from confinement in a psychiatric institution, Ali is convinced by Heshem that there is treasure hidden in water tunnels under the cemetery next door to the school and is determined to find it. Sneaking down to the basement between classes or conjuring up a stomach ache in the middle of a class, Ali brings a pick axe to tunnel through the rocks, undaunted and refusing to give up even when his friends desert him.

Claustrophobic images of Ali’s distress are juxtaposed with happy children playing outside in the courtyard, calling attention to the plight of those in life who are trapped and those who can run free. As Ali moves closer to his goal, the film reaches an emotional peak with the image of the tearful Ali, struggling in the dark, damp, and dangerous conditions, desperately attempting to reach the ever elusive treasure. Sun Children has its heart in the right place and the determination of the young protagonists will touch your own heart, yet unfortunately, the film skims the surface without probing into the characters’ feelings and thoughts with any depth. Unlike “Capernaum,” a powerful film about street children in Lebanon, Majidi does not deal with the underlying issues in a way that delivers a lasting impact.

What is always clear, however, is this director’s conviction that too many children in the world suffer from neglect and exploitation, and, in a country where censorship is an ever-present danger, has the courage to use childhood as a means of conveying the flaws that exist in his society, a familiar theme in world cinema but one that bears repeating.

The Stairs offers tropes from both horror and science fiction in ample measure, as director Peter ‘Drago’ Tiemann uses a mélange of tropes in recognizable and not especially surprising ways. The film begins with some truly gorgeous aerial shots of Washington State, the location scenery used to create a sense of both beauty and awe. Within this isolated arena, we have a journey (hello, horror trope), as Kate Martin (Trin Miller, “Captain Fantastic”) drives her son Jesse (Thomas Wethington) to the home of her parents Bernice (Kathleen Quinlan, “Breach”) and Gene (John Schneider, “The Rebound”). Gene and Jesse set off for a hunting trip, well-equipped with rifles, high-visibility vests and food, some of which Gene must not eat because of his health. A grandfather and grandson taking a trip into the woods, what could go wrong (hello, horror trope)? While you may expect something weird and horrible, it may not be what turns up, especially in the case of the titular fixture.

After this opening sequence, the narrative jumps forward twenty years to a group of young people gathering for a hiking and camping trip. Brothers Josh (Brent Bailey, “Break Even”) and Nick (Adam Korson, “The Female Brain”) stop for coffee and receive a warning from a local harbinger (hello, horror trope), while a wall of missing person posters suggest that this trip might not be the best idea. Undaunted, they continue their journey and meet up with Rebeccah (Stacey Oristano, “Waterlily Jaguar”) and Jordon (Tyra Colar, “Survival Skills”), before obnoxious addition Doug (Josh Crotty, “Twisted Blues”) also arrives.

The viewer’s enjoyment of The Stairs may well depend on their engagement with these characters. Josh and Nick put across a sibling relationship, although we do not get enough of Rebeccah and Jordon to get much of a sense of them together. As the narrative continues, Jordon emerges as smart and capable, but Rebeccah rapidly falls apart. This is not the actor’s fault — Oristano embodies the character with verve and energy — but the script gives her little to do. The overuse of character traits is especially egregious in the case of Doug, who seems to be annoying for the sake of it. Overall, the chemistry between the five is middling at best, with insufficient depth or nuance to draw the viewer in.

Despite not being that great together, we follow these hikers through the woods, where they encounter strange and menacing things. Danger, gore and death follow, in ways that are reminiscent of “Deliverance,” “The Blair Witch Project,” and similar folk horror offerings where city people get lost in the woods (hello, horror trope). There are unexpected sounds with no evident source; there are sudden flashes of something at the corner of the frame; people appear and disappear randomly. What there isn’t is much sense of threat. It is a cliché in horror that characters behave stupidly, but here the problem is more that the five hikers behave inconsistently — while demonstrating some intelligence and responding sensibly to danger, they also spend an inordinate amount of time asking “What the FUCK is going on?!” which draws unfortunate comparisons to this year’s dismal “Wrong Turn” reboot.

Lighting also becomes a prominent problem. It’s a fundamental part of motion pictures to be able to see what is going on, and a good way to create an ominous atmosphere is to limit characters’ illumination. This helps to place the viewer more in the characters’ situation — we cannot see what is happening and thus share their unease. The recent “In The Earth” as well as “Pitch Black” are great examples of this, and while The Stairs does feature our heroes looking for a missing friend in the dead of night, the scene is largely spoiled by a major unsourced light over the proceedings. It may seem churlish to complain about something as basic as lighting, but if the lighting obstructs your engagement, that’s a problem.

While Tiemann is not great at suspense, he does succeed at jump scares. There is a sequence in a properly dark location where, despite being foreshadowed, a sudden appearance is startling. Later on, some gory deaths come out of nowhere and there is some trepidation over who will survive. These gruesome kills give the film some shock value, but interestingly, it is the random associations that cause the film to really fall down. Screenwriters Tiemann and Jason L. Lowe throw various bits and pieces into the mix, including the titular Stairs, a subterranean environment, timey-wimey weirdness (hello, science fiction trope), oddballs in the forest and some beasties. The beasties are reminiscent of a creature from “The X-Files” crossed with the crawlers from “The Descent” (another movie that uses darkness to great effect), but as is often the case these creatures work best when only seen partially — see them in the (unsourced) light and the exaggerated movement of the performer looks more silly than menacing. That is perhaps the best way to summarize The Stairs — many promising aspects are assembled into a whole that is less than the sum of its parts, and ultimately comes across as rather silly.

The same problem has plagued Ben Falcone’s filmography, which Thunder Force pitifully exacerbates: It has no idea when to stop a joke. The comedic bits that are funny (which happen once in a blue moon) stretch themselves to shred until it becomes terribly awkward. For example, when Lydia starts to gain strength, she accidentally injures her trainer, which then becomes a recurring bit. The first two instances are funny enough, but the longer it sticks with the joke, the more tired it becomes. The same can be said for every unfunny comedic moment, which starts with Lydia’s awkward love with raw chicken. Okay fine, the treatment she undergoes can only make her eat raw food, but do we really need to see at least three different scenes of gross-out humor involving Lydia deliciously savoring raw chicken. It wasn’t funny the first time, and it surely isn’t funny when you’re doing it for the third time.

The only proper hilarious bits are found when McCarthy hangs out with Jason Bateman’s “henchman with a conscience” vibe as The Crab, where Lydia falls in love with him in a surreal dance sequence. Bateman is the best part of the movie because he seems to be the only one to understand how awkward comedy works. Any awkward comedy needs to bathe itself fully in the concept for it to be funny and never stop when it only reaches “surface-level” funny. By having crab claws for hands, Bateman’s awkwardness makes for terrific physical comedy, and his performance never stops being funny. He always finds new ways, with McCarthy, to continuously have fun with the concept, even though his arc ends with . . . raw chicken.

The awkwardness also finds a bit of footing when characters interact with Cannavale’s The King, a somewhat compelling (but terribly predictable) antagonist. Cannavale brings some form of levity (and humor, too), making for great banter between the heroes and The King’s henchman. It’s the plot surrounding The King’s ploy that feels completely ripped off from legitimate superhero films. That’s not to say that the superhero antics aren’t entertaining — they’re the best part of the movie (with Jason Bateman); it’s the plot that feels uninspired. I mean, when Melissa Leo shows up as Emily’s assistant, some audience members can look at her outfit and cold demeanor while she talks at Lydia to automatically associate her as a double-crossing antagonist. Guess what? She eventually double-crosses Thunder Force and works for The King. In almost every action comedy, there’s this “shady protagonist” that doesn’t necessarily hide that they’re working for the villain if you look closely enough. It’s a tired trope in many action comedies that either needs to be reinvented without falling into the familiar beats or dropped entirely. The more you do it, the less inspired it becomes.

However, there’s something in Falcone’s staging of superhero action that feels fresh and creative, which could be associated with the only time he can be considered a serious filmmaker. There wasn’t an action sequence in Thunder Force that didn’t feel entertaining — Falcone understands the kinetic excitement of superhero cinema brilliantly. Lydia makes henchmen fly off through walls, while Emily uses a taser to comedically stun other antagonists. It’s no secret that Falcone and McCarthy are both fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (they even landed a role in the upcoming “Thor: Love and Thunder”) and the action sequences here feel particularly reminiscent of Peyton Reed’s mechanics in the restaurant fight in “Ant-Man and the Wasp.” Oddly specific, yes, but it’s also one of the few action sequences of the entire MCU where you’ll find many clichéd henchmen flying around the space while being easily battled by Ant-Man and The Wasp. That same exhilaration is found in Thunder Force, but most of the film’s action sequences are plagued with terrible humor, making its tension falter a bit.

It’s quite odd to watch a superhero movie with such incredibly visceral action mastery that fails at almost virtually anything else. Falcone’s lingering joke problem is the number one reason why his movies don’t work. The acting is mostly good; there’s palpable chemistry between McCarthy and Spencer. Cannavale fully bathes himself in the corrupt politician antagonist, and Jason Bateman is having the time of his life. The talent is there for a great comedy, the budget is there to blend the comedic antics with action properly. All Falcone needs, for a successful comedy, is to know when to stop a joke and know the difference between “awkwardly hilarious” (see “Barb and Star go to Vista Del Mar”) and “painfully cringeworthy” (see any other Ben Falcone comedy). If Falcone relied on the stars and their comedic talents instead of a terribly unfunny script without a sense of comedic timing, it could’ve worked. But alas, let’s hope his next film will be better — he’s getting there, slowly but surely.

The story is about Victor Martin (Shatner, “Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous”), a 70-something, former NASA test pilot, who tools around Palm Springs in his vintage Porsche, trying to flirt with comely young women. Often accompanied by his buddy Sal (Christopher Lloyd, “Going in Style”), the two senior citizens live in a co-dependent relationship in which they attempt to create a bubble to fool Father Time, but pathetically fail at it. Victor ends up losing his license after challenging a young Latino to a drag race. This leads to the first major plot point, which shows Martin determined to gain back his beloved wheels while adjusting to life as a pedestrian — dolefully walking back from the supermarket with bags of groceries in tow as he watches life whiz by in sunny Palm Springs. But even with Lloyd’s companionship, which could had had the potential to liven up the screen as Shatner’s oddball trusty sidekick, the relationship doesn’t go very far because both actors are hampered by a tired premise and underdeveloped characters. Senior Moment is billed as a romantic comedy, but it is too anemic to break out of its paint-by-number script.

Sometimes the over-the-hill, fish out of water scenario works. But it’s most successful as farce, as in Rodney Dangerfield’s “Back to School,” but the story here — what there is of it — takes predictable turns without the requisite wide-eyed humor. The saving grace among the acting leads is veteran TV and film actor Jean Smart (“The Accountant”), who plays Caroline Summers, a level-headed, good-natured café owner. Smart succeeds at exuding a warmth that is lacking in the rest of the portrayals. But even her presence can’t save the ill-begotten film. The rest of the plot involves a mysterious cuckoo clock that’s affixed to the café wall, broken for decades, but brought back to life by Lloyd’s mechanical skills with Shatner standing by to take credit.

Now, with Victor, the erstwhile playboy, proving his worth as a “can-do” senior citizen, he embarks on acting his age to win over Summers the old-fashioned way: By being the reserved, sincere gentleman who has finally grown up. Another part of the story involves empathic Caroline’s efforts to save engendered sea tortoises (not “turtles” as Victor calls them), but this subplot doesn’t do the film any favors in bringing coherence to the budding romantic relationship between Victor and Caroline even though it’s used to demonstrate the former’s reformation as a past-his-prime narcissist.

Unfortunately, Senior Moment stays muddled because of a screenplay that walks a tightrope between the genres of broad comedy and sentimental romance. The film falls off the obstacle course way before reaching the other side. You might get some satisfaction in watching a pre-covid Southern California, where the sunshine is still unsullied by social distancing and universal mask wearing. If the film had bright spots besides the weather, it might have been a funny diversion — watching several veteran actors plying their craft. Unfortunately, there simply aren’t any to redeem the film or exploit the talents of its leads.

The film’s framing device is rather simple: Chris (Eric André, “Rough Night”) rekindles with the high-school love of his life, Maria Li (Michaela Conlin, “Enchanted”) while working at a smoothie shop, which prompts him to go on a road trip to New York City with his best friend, Bud (Lil Rel Howery, “Get Out”), to go after Maria. They embark in Bud’s sister Trina’s (Tiffany Haddish, “Nobody’s Fool”) stolen car without knowing that she recently broke out of prison and is currently on the lookout for them.

The “road trip” device serves as a quasi-excuse for André, Howery, and Haddish to prank real people without ever being afraid of pushing it to the extremes. And this is what makes Bad Trip particularly funny: Seeing Eric André and others perform exuberant acts of total “shock-slapstick” comedy for a completely impervious public and always going the extra mile to make every situation as uncomfortable as possible. For example, Chris works at a smoothie shop, with a total disregard of basic hygiene protocols (this is particularly timely in the COVID era we currently live in) and, after seeing “the love of his life” for the first time in a year, accidentally puts his hand in a blender which begins to splatter out *lots* of blood. The timing is impeccable, especially when the hidden cameras brilliantly capture the customers’ natural reactions of pure disgust and, finally, shock. And this bit only gives a taste of what’s to come, with the pranks becoming more elaborate (and sometimes reaching downright terrifying levels of comedy) as the film moves along.

Eric André is, in my opinion, one of the funniest comedians living today — and continues to prove his dynamite timing with this film. This feels like a movie especially crafted for him (and his friends) to showcase just how talented he is at not only physical comedy, but also improvisation. Many of the sequences with real people aren’t scripted, and André’s quick-thinking makes him shine in almost every single one of these scenes. This is most evident because the film’s scripted scenes that supposedly “move the plot forward” are incredibly dull and uninspired to watch. Of course, you’re not going to watch Bad Trip for the plot — chances are you’re watching the movie for André and Sakurai’s skills at revitalizing a (seemingly) long-dead sub-genre of comedy, which is fine, but the plot should’ve still been more polished and feel less rushed.

Also, running at almost 79-minutes without credits, the movie doesn’t have enough time to properly develop character depth or the relationships between Chris, Bud, and Trina effectively, forgoing that to go to the “good stuff” quickly. It’s safe to say, if you want your audience to truly immerse themselves to not only the insane hidden-camera sequences Sakurai and André put on display, it helps to have compelling characters. Without them, the hidden-camera sequences feel completely detached from the alleged story piecing it all together.

Still, Bad Trip begs to be experienced. It brilliantly recaptures the unflinching insanity of Jeff Tremaine’s “Jackass” triptych whilst reaching new levels of stranger participation and authenticity Tremaine’s films were never able to achieve. Put the poorly-developed story aside and have fun with Kitao Sakurai’s boundary-pushing comedy that’s sure to elicit an insane amount of laughter . . . though be warned of its audacity to shock with many gross-out sequences. If you loved “Jackass,” you will absolutely adore Bad Trip. Take the plunge on Netflix — you will most certainly not regret it.