Mehnificent

If there is one thing the Netflix machine does better than most of the Hollywood conglomerates that blunder through genre as if they’re bobbing for apples in a vat of clichés, it’s churning out the kind of shredded comfort food that coaxes out your half-remembered adolescent idiot grin. Night Teeth is exactly the sort of movie you suspect you’ll find yourself loathing on principle—supermodel vampires, neon-L.A. nightlife, and a plot straining to be both “gritty urban” and “Instagram ready”—but, half an hour in, you’ve stopped counting the script’s shortcuts and started absent-mindedly tapping your foot to a bass-bloated, mortifying soundtrack. So: maybe you feel a little ashamed to admit how much you’re enjoying it. I wouldn’t blame you.

If the movies have taught us anything about time travel, it’s that the past might be a playground for regret—an endless loop of adolescent screwups getting a second (or third, or twentieth) shot at rewriting the fate of humanity, or at least saving their high school sweetheart. Tokyo Revengers, a turbo-charged punk vacuum pressed into gangland melodrama and science-fiction stripes, wants desperately to ride that carousel—sometimes dizzy, sometimes earnest, and blessedly, just self-serious enough to keep you from rolling your eyes straight out of your skull.

Let’s be honest: “The Vault” wants to be your next favorite heist movie, but it can’t even manage to lift your pulse. Directed by Jaume Balagueró, this Spanish exercise in genre mimicry gathers up all the usual suspects—plucky prodigy, world-weary ringleader, hacker-by-numbers—and puts them through a series of motions so familiar, you could swear you’ve wandered into a bank robbery rehearsal dinner.