Well, it finally happened: A Cars movie isn’t the most illogical and narratively incongruous thing opening in theatres in a given week. Brace yourselves.

All Eyez on Me: The life of Tupac Shakur is condensed and repackaged for a mainstream audience in Benny Boom’s biopic, which introduces Demetrius Shipp Jr. as the doomed hip-hop idol. Rad isn’t impressed.

Beatriz at Dinner: Salma Hayek and John Lithgow try very, very hard to put some soul into Mike White and Miguel Arteta’s drama, but it’s less a movie than a Buzzfeed headline: This Mexican Woman Found Herself At A Table With Donald Trump, You’ll Never Guess What Happened Next. (Only You Probably Will.)

The Book of Henry: Colin Trevorrow’s bid for indie respectability is as bad as you’ve heard, and maybe even worse. If nothing else, it’s proof that after this and Shut In no one should ever put Naomi Watts and Jacob Tremblay in the same movie again, as their presence in the same frame clearly creates a kind of awfulness vortex.

Cars 3: At last, a Cars movie I kind of enjoyed. Although it took more than an hour to get there and the larger world of the series still makes no goddamned sense. But hey, the kids will buy the toys.

In Search of Israeli Cuisine: Roger Sherman’s documentary tracks its subject’s evolution through the history of the Jewish diaspora. Rad finds it enlightening, and I am now suddenly hungry.

Rough Night: Broad City writers Lucia Aniello and Paul W. Downs bring us a female-fronted spin on The Hangover and Very Bad Things that features Kate McKinnon as someone called Pippa, so I am all the way in. Rad says it has its moments.

There, that’s everything. Oh, and tomorrow afternoon I’m judging whiskey sours at  the Thrill of the Grill on the Danforth, so come on over if you want to see me dangerously intoxicated!

(Also, there will be barbecue.)