Nostalgia is a funny thing. Perfectly rational people adore mediocre music, television and film for the sole reason that it was popular when they were young. There’s nothing inherently wrong with holding fondness for bad movies — say, Michael Jordan’s Space Jam — that you enjoyed as a child, cultural touchstones like these shape people as they grow up. The danger posed by nostalgia lies in what mega-corporations will wield it for to make a buck.

“Every time we make a film, it is with the expectation of delivering on a promise of an experience.” This line, delivered by Marvel boss Kevin Feige to Rotten Tomatoes last week, is a perfect distillation of the mega franchise he’s stewarded for the last 13 years. Especially as the MCU has widened it’s scope, ventured to space and recruited a cast of the greatest actors of multiple generations, their projects have felt less like movies than events. But now that Disney+ has opened the door to more character driven stories, the formula feels like it’s shifting.

Different might the defining feature of Pixar animation studio, or at least the image they’d like to portray. As ubiquitous as the 3D style they pioneered has become, Pixar was really the trailblazer. Self described weirdos have long been attracted to the studio for the opportunity to tell idiosyncratic stories most other places wouldn’t touch. While other places were pumping out formulaic princess musicals, Pixar was making kids and adults alike cry over the friendship of two hunks of plastic and the exploits of a flea circus. Even as the Pixar tearjerker turned into its own template and subpar sequels rolled out, that reputation for being different persisted.

Let’s get one thing out of the way first; I love movie-musicals. No matter how many times Ii see it, I will never fail to present the dumbest grin on my face when Don and Cosmo perform ‘Moses Supposes’ in Singin in the Rain. Movies have a way of making everything feel bigger and movie-musicals take that concept to the next level. A well executed dance number can be a truly magical experience on screen. Given my love of the genre, In the Heights should have been right up my alley.

That iconic final shot of 2018’s A Quiet Place left little ambiguity about what the future held for the Abbott family. As she cocked back the shotgun that had finally bested one of the mysterious sound hunting beasts, Evelyn (Emily Blunt) clearly signaled that better days are ahead. Finishing with such a clear, definitive scene made the almost immediate announcement of A Quiet Place: Part II feel unwarranted. The sequel could have been just another studio cash grab, but it turns out returning director John Krasinski had more in mind.

Modern Hollywood offers precious few opportunities for auteur directors. Long gone are the days when a big name auteur behind the camera — someone like Hitchcock or Coppola — meant a critical mass of eyeballs. Big franchises have crowded out the idiosyncratic blockbusters of old, either assimilating their directors or shunting them to mid budget indies. Only a handful of directors are left who can draw a crowd and, for some reason, one of them is Zack Snyder.

If there is one defining feature of the empire Marvel has built over the last 13 years it would be the homogeneity of their films. After Iron Man launched the most popular franchise in the history of film, the MCU has understandably clung to the formula that launched their success. Each installment features some variation of the same fights of good vs evil, the same hero archetype, the same fundamentally evil villain and a staunch avoidance of anything remotely controversial.

“[We] made it for the fans.” Although this quote is specifically attributed to a David Ayer tweet following the relentless pans of his 2016 Suicide Squad, the sentiment could have come from any franchise director of the last few years. As Hollywood has become more and more IP driven, the fans have become more and more of a shield for bad movies. Marvel and especially DC have consistently put out lifeless films with just enough fan service to get their die hard supporters to flood into theaters multiple times. Now it seems that Warner — purveyors of both the DCEU and the recently ended MonsterVerse — is attempting to graft this format onto Mortal Kombat.

I’m starting to become concerned about the 2021 film year. A few big titles have trickled in, from Judas and the Black Messiah taking advantage of the the extended Oscars window to Disney testing out Premier Access again with Raya and the Last Dragon. Those have been great, but so to date are proving to be the exceptions to the rule. What movie fans feared of 2020 is coming to a more dire fruition now.

From it’s very inception, there has been a contentious battle at the the center of Warner’s modern MonsterVerse. No, it isn’t Godzilla vs Kong, it’s the monsters vs the humans. Godzilla (2014) took heat for investing too much time in the people while it’s titular Kaiju lurked in the background. Kong: Skull Island (2017) and Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) overcorrected the other way with an overwhelming amount of monsters and a small group of people specifically tied to them. People weren’t too happy with that either. So, what makes a good monster movie? Maybe it isn’t about how the two much people feature, rather how they’re used.