Your ultimate guide to Bangkok

The ’80s arcade classic Rampage allowed players to inhabit the avatars of rabid mutant animals as they punched helicopters, ate people and demolished cities. That premise is a bit obvious for a major studio feature, but star Dwayne Johnson and director Brad Peyton, improving on their 2015 lemon San Andreas, have taken the title and basic thrust of the video game (smash things!) and delivered a colorful, cornball disaster spectacle. Rampage isn’t cause for wild celebration, but with its bright, coherent FX—rare in this genre—and one deliriously fun supporting performance, it’s better than it has any business being. The movie opens with a knockout action sequence, set aboard a space station that’s been overtaken by a gargantuan lab rat. (For fans of the video game, this rodent is the first of several Easter eggs.) The pathogen that’s loose in the space station, which turns animals into supersized killing machines, makes its way back to Earth and is ingested by a crocodile, a wolf and an albino gorilla named George. This simian star provides an emotional element, via friendship and sign language with primatologist Davis (Dwayne Johnson, doing his thing), and sets the story in motion when he destroys a wildlife sanctuary on his way to a rendezvous with his fellow mutants in Chicago. Johnson joins with Naomie Harris, radiating smarts as a genetic engineer, to quell George and minimize the damage. Good luck with that: The annihilation of the Windy City is a thrill to watch—cartoo

Proving once again—especially after last year’s Girls Trip and The Big Sick—that comedies are the undiscovered country for expert (if not Oscar-nominated) acting, Blockers gives the willowy, trembling Leslie Mann two bookends that are, without a doubt, her finest onscreen moments. In the first, she’s offering tame suggestions to her prom-bound, sex-minded daughter (“Mom, are you going to be okay?” the kid asks, legit concerned). In the next, the tears rain down Mann’s face like a shower with robust water pressure—is it even audible?—as she’s saying upbeat goodbyes to a child with college on the horizon. In between those two scenes comes a wonderfully crude film (we're talking Superbad levels of raunchiness), but one in which the overall vibe is sweet: kids patiently waiting for their parents to grow up already. On the occasion of their daughters' big high-school dance, three fussy helicopter parents (Mann, Ike Barinholtz and a revelatory John Cena, a hulking, teary-eyed mess) become aware of their girls' plan to devirginize. Furious at this "sex pact"—it even has its own hashtag, #SEXPACT2018—the olds decide to mount a counteraction; the movie's title once had another word before Blockers, a synonym for rooster, before advertising standards kicked in. Snappily directed by debuting director Kay Cannon (a screenwriter on the Pitch Perfect trilogy and, more substantially, TV’s 30 Rock), Blockers brews a bubbling panic among the parents, invading where they shouldn’t and brandi

After the Twilight saga, we’re used to young-adult romances involving pale sun-dodgers with mysterious depths. The twist with this one is that there’s nothing supernatural about nocturnal teenage guitarist Katie (Bella Thorne). She suffers from a rare genetic disorder called xeroderma pigmentosum (XP), which means her body is unable to repair the damage caused by ultraviolet light. In other words, the sun can literally kill her. It’s an extreme obstacle to put in the way of her finding happiness with childhood crush Charlie, a boy she’s watched from her window most of her life, and who’s grown into the handsome form of Patrick "Son of Arnold" Schwarzenegger. (It’s worth noting this is a relatively straight adaptation of the 2006 Japanese teen drama Taiyo No Uta, not that the target audience will have seen the original.) To be frank, the medical disorder is about the only aspect of this story that lends it any distinction. Midnight Sun is otherwise a bland mix of familiar types (the doofus Dad, the quirky best friend who wears woolly hats indoors, etc.) who trundle along the rails of a predictable plot, one that relies on Katie preposterously keeping her illness a secret from Charlie until it inevitably catches up with her in a Cinderella-ish manner. Leads Thorne and Schwarzenegger are mildly charming in a TV-soapish way, but it’s all so desperately clean (even her XP is photogenic, unlike the condition in reality). The stars struggle to hold your interest, let alone earn y

Like Aliens retooled as a militant librarian’s fantasy, actor-director John Krasinski’s relentlessly effective horror film thrives on a nifty premise: In a post-apocalyptic world, a family holes up in a farmhouse and tries to survive in a countryside where the slightest sound brings out deadly monsters. It’s a high concept that demands the dialogue be kept to a minimum; characters communicate by subtitled sign language, eye contact and extreme whispering. That makes A Quiet Place pure, bold cinema, the images and sound design working together to scare the bejesus out of you. Save some late-in-the-day exposition via basement whiteboards and newspaper headlines, Krasinski gives us admirably little backstory for the alien invasion. Instead, after a tragic prologue, we find a family—dad (Krasinski), mom (Emily Blunt), son (Noah Jupe) and daughter (Wonderstuck’s Millicent Simmonds), whose deafness means she can’t hear anything sneaking up on her—neck-deep in real trouble. Nerve-shredding set pieces revolve around a nail sticking out of a wooden stair, a flooding basement and a Signs–like run through a cornfield. All are mounted with ruthless brio by director Krasinski, fully escaping his cuddly Office niche. The rules of this universe are fast and loose, so the monsters can’t hear over a waterfall, but they can listen through walls from miles away. And while the family dynamics lack nuance, the film is still a neat allegory for the challenges of parenting pushed to extremes. It’