There has always been a tendency to fetishize high-end experiences, but the proliferation of social media has only exacerbated that fact. Instead of just making the people in your direct circle jealous, you can become the envy of legions of strangers as well.

Take fine dining, for instance. Foodies have long been among us, but now, they can force themselves into your line of sight by way of Instagram photos. It’s not enough to enjoy a meal – you have to make sure that other people know that you’re enjoying that meal … and they’re not.

But what happens when an ideological tipping point is reached?

In “The Menu,” directed by Mark Mylod from a script by Seth Reiss and Will Tracy, we get a look at the next evolution in fine dining. A smart thriller with a satiric edge and a deceptively wicked sense of humor, it tells the tale of what happens when – apologies in advance – the tables are turned.

Playing out in chapters fashioned after courses, “The Menu” deconstructs the classist underpinnings inherent to the sort of high-concept, high-priced dining experiences that so many aspire to celebrate. It’s a slow burn build into chaos, a film whose seeming straightforwardness gradually evaporates as the proceedings play out. And by the time dessert is served, well … let’s just say you’ve never had a meal quite like this one.

It’s a heck of a time to be a consumer of popular culture if you’re a fan of Stephen King.

Not only does the author continue to turn out high-quality new works of fiction on the regular – his latest book “Fairy Tale” is another top-shelf offering, just for instance – but we’re seeing all manner of King adaptations making their respective ways onto screens large and small.

The latest entry on that ever-expanding list is “Mr. Harrigan’s Phone,” currently streaming on Netflix. It’s based on the novella of the same name from King’s 2020 collection “If It Bleeds” and is directed and adapted for the screen by John Lee Hancock.

Now, this isn’t the best adaptation of King’s work we’ve seen, though it does feature several themes that are prevalent in the author’s oeuvre. There’s a bit of a pacing program and just a touch of tonal inconsistency, and while you never want a narrative to be overly explicatory, there’s an occasional feeling of not having quite enough information.

That being said, there’s plenty to like here as well. There are some very strong performances here, as well as a wonderful balance between the everyday and the supernatural in terms of the obstacles being faced. Plus, there’s a nice coming-of-age vibe that is reflective of some of King’s most intimate work.

Every so often, a movie comes along that answers a question that you didn’t even know you wanted to ask. Many times, that movie arrives courtesy of Netflix, because with the sheer volume of content they push out, there’s more than a little “infinite monkeys/infinite typewriters” energy there.

For example, take “End of the Road,” the new thriller from the streamer. Directed by Millicent Shelton from a script by Christopher J. Moore and David Loughery and starring Queen Latifah, it’s ostensibly an action thriller that follows a road-tripping family as they get pulled into a murderous web of criminals and ill-gotten cash. I say “ostensibly” because, while that is certainly technically correct, the film manages to raise one of those unanticipated questions.

To wit: just how many over-the-top tropes clichés can one film family endure before we move from the realm of the thriller into the theater of the absurd? The answer? Significantly fewer than get thrown at Queen Latifah and company in these 90 minutes of escalating nonsense.

Man versus nature is one of our most fundamental stories. There’s a primality to the notion of people, removed from the comfort of their so-called civilization, forced to survive against a natural world that, for whatever reason, seeks to do them harm.

“Beast,” the new film from Icelandic filmmaker Baltasar Kormakur, is just such a story. It pits a man and his family against an animal – in this case, a lion – that has been driven to do them harm. With little understanding of the world into which they have been dropped, they must figure out a way to survive a battle against a foe that has lived its entire life in that same world.

They must do battle with a beast.

Unfortunately, while the underpinnings of the narrative offer that sort of primality, the execution ultimately proves more nonsensical, at times bordering on the cartoonish. When a story relies entirely on the questionable, irrational choices being made by its characters, you’re left with something that never quite works. There are moments of intensity and well-crafted tension, but they are almost entirely undermined by the at-time laughable decision-making to which we are witness.

But hey – Idris Elba punching a lion makes for a pretty high floor.

Genre movies have long been used as delivery mechanisms for larger, deeper ideas. Sure, there are plenty that are essentially entertainment for the sake of entertainment, but for many filmmakers, the trappings of genre – sci-fi, horror, noir, Western, you name it – have provided an outlet to express insights regarding the world in which we live.

One could argue that no contemporary filmmaker has embraced that ethos as fully as Jordan Peele. His latest film is “Nope,” a sci-fi/horror/comedy mashup that has a lot to say about the evolution of our relationship to the entertainment we consume (and that, one could argue, consumes us in return). It’s a clever and weird throwback of a film, one clearly enamored with the sci-fi and monster movies of the mid-20th century even as it offers thoughts on entertainment writ large, both in the present day and in its embryonic beginnings.

Of course, while big themes and big ideas are great and all, they don’t really matter if the delivery system isn’t up to par. What Peele has done with “Nope,” just as he did with his previous two efforts “Get Out” and “Us,” is package his insights in a well-made and entertaining movie. And while this newest film is perhaps a bit shaggier and more challenging to parse, there’s no denying that he is an exceptional craftsman as both a writer and a director. That craft is on full display here.

(Note: This is a difficult film to synopsize without spoilers. I will do my best, but apologies in advance if I misstep.)

Say what you will about Joe and Anthony Russo, but they understand what it means for a movie to be big. There are few filmmakers currently working who understand the particulars of blockbusters as well as they do. The Russos seem to have an inherent grasp of what makes large-scale films work. So it’s no surprise that the powers that be at Netflix would tap the Russos to helm their biggest budget film to date.

That film is “The Gray Man,” an action blockbuster currently streaming on the service. The Russos direct from a script by Joe Russo, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, adapted from the 2009 Mark Greaney novel of the same name. It has all the components of a massive movie – huge budget, A-list stars, elaborate set pieces and exotic locales, the whole shebang – so of course, why not enlist guys who fundamentally get it to steer the ship?

It’s an espionage action-thriller, a story about one man’s attempt to survive when the government agency for which he has spent over a decade working decides that he has become a liability. This is a big, loud globetrotter of an adventure, and while it perhaps doesn’t work as fully as it might have, it remains an exciting and engaging work of popcorn entertainment.

One of the joys of living in Maine is the wide array of environments you can enjoy. There’s the ocean, of course. There are mountains and forests. Lovely cities and idyllic small towns. Cold winters and warm summers. Few places run the gamut like the state of Maine.

That variety of place is reflected in the types of stories told about the place. We’ve got the Master of Horror, of course – hi, Mr. King! – but storytellers embrace all manner of genres, using the assortment of settings to bring to life literary fiction, sci-fi, mysteries, thrillers … the list goes on and on.

Every once in a while, though, you get a book that marries setting, style and story via that Maine lens that just clicks.

That’s what Adam White has done with his debut novel “The Midcoast” (Hogarth, $27), a crime drama that offers up a compelling story while also exploring the definitions of success in a small town. It is a taut, sharp thriller – one that balances the stressors of its storyline with the underlying laconicism that marks life on Maine’s coast.

It’s well-crafted and propulsive, a fast read that sweeps the reader along into its wake, pulling us into the disparate lives of the characters at its center.

There’s a tendency to bemoan the dearth of original films coming out of Hollywood. The IP franchise model has largely taken over the industry, with relatively little room for material not explicitly designed as part of a larger, familiar whole. That desire for standalone offerings is certainly understandable.

What you might not have expected, however, is that Michael Bay would be the one to fulfill that desire for you.

Bay’s new film is “Ambulance,” a heist thriller based on a 2005 Danish film of the same name (although the director reportedly never saw the original nor read the screenplay). It’s the sort of movie we’ve come to expect from Bay, one packed to the brim with over-the-top action set pieces and overwrought interpersonal dynamics while also being somewhat lacking in the narrative cohesion department.

It’s the Michael Bay experience.

You’re not here for explorations of the complexity of the human condition. You’re not here for taut dialogue loaded with subtext. You are here to watch guns being fired, vehicles being crashed and a whole lot of explosions of various sizes and shapes. You know it. I know it. And Michael Bay definitely knows it.

There are few things as exciting to watch onscreen as a pairing that features legitimate chemistry. When you’ve got two actors whose connection generates real electricity, when you can feel the crackle in the air between them within the context of their interactions … it’s so compelling.

But what happens when that remarkable chemistry is dropped into a film featuring a so-so script and unexciting direction? Can that chemistry alter the fundamental formula?

Sadly, in the case of “All the Old Knives” – currently in theaters and available on Amazon Prime Video – the answer is no. Despite an absolutely dynamite lead pairing in Chris Pine and Thandiwe Newton, both of whom are outstanding, the film can’t seem to get out of its own way. With muddy multiple timelines and assorted convoluted plot dynamics, the spy thriller can’t come close to living up to the bar set by its leads.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s worth seeing. Pine and Newton alone are more than worth the cost of admission. Just don’t be surprised if you wind up feeling slightly disappointed, wondering what might have been.

There’s something about a movie that is consciously small-scale.

That’s not to say that I have anything against the broad bombast of blockbuster filmmaking – I have plenty of room in my heart for CGI explosions, after all – but I do admire those filmmakers who can craft meaningful, powerful stories with little more than a handful of actors and a single location.

“Windfall,” a new offering from Netflix, is just that sort of chamber piece. Directed by Charlie McDowell from a script by Justin Lader and Andrew Kevin Walker, the film is a taut three-hander cast with notable talents – Jesse Plemons, Lily Collins and Jason Segel – that takes place at an isolated estate. All the pieces are here for a solid film.

And that’s what we get. Solid. Which feels just a little disappointing, because the pieces are all here for an excellent movie, but for whatever reason, we never quite get there. Not that there’s anything wrong with making a perfectly serviceable thriller – there are plenty of folks out there who can’t do it – but one gets the sense of an opportunity just missed.

Still, “Windfall” is an engaging watch, the sort of thriller that provides ample entertainment in the moment, even if it likely won’t resonate for the viewer long-term.