Bill Goodykoontz

If nothing else it’ll dazzle your senses, even on a small screen.

Director and co-writer Terry George (“Hotel Rwanda”) tries his best to give the film an epic sweep, but he substitutes quantity of plot threads for quality of story.

There are some laughs (a well-placed police baton, for one). But Metal Lords feels unfinished, rough, like a solo the guitarist never mastered.

Really, every actor is likable and, all by themselves, good here. It’s that each situation is more ridiculous than the last and none of it fits together, even when everything gets tossed into the narrative blender toward the end.

Suburbicon is a hybrid of two ideas — two movies, really — and it isn't clear whether either would have worked separately. What is clear is that they don't work together.

You just have to hope for some fun along the way. The movie delivers that every now and then, but not nearly enough. Bigger! Dumber! Something! I’d settle for just better.

The star wattage is blinding, but the film fizzles out.

It’s all very British, enough so they should serve tea and crumpets during screenings. Some of it is also entertaining. Just not enough.

Even with the talent involved, almost everything about Labor Day plays less like something you’d buy a ticket to watch and more like something you’d buy in an airport bookstore to read.

Rob Minkoff’s film has the generic feel of a kids’ movie that’s trying to please everyone. It’s not horrible. In fact, it’s agreeable enough. But nothing more.

It’s stupid by design, but it’s not stupid enough. … It plays like an idea in search of a film. Desperately in search of, and never quite finding it.

The tone is so uneven, the shifts so jarring, that they overtake the movie’s modest pleasures.

There are some nice messages of inclusion, but they’re crowded out by a big dumb action scene at the end.

Grovic knows all the tricks of the trade, such as keeping the lighting dark (often too dark), in an attempt to add atmosphere. But in the end it seems like a series of shortcuts.

The film is not without charm, much of it provided by Larson as the sneakily demanding Brie. Liu is also funny and vaguely dangerous, while Henke is an agreeable presence. As for Hall, he's not asked to do much more than mope.

Writer and director Drew Pearce makes his feature debut in a confused, jumbled film that never quite gets its story straight.

The Night Before wants to make you laugh and cry, but it doesn’t give us enough opportunities to do enough of either.

While some of the sequels have been entertaining enough, A Good Day to Die Hard signals that it may be a better day for John McClane to retire.

Lola Versus isn't a bad movie. It's just not a particularly noteworthy one. It's too self-consciously ... everything.

The resulting film winds up like a compelling story about an iconic civil-rights event buried beneath an avalanche of stereotypes and bad writing.

Good intentions can only take you so far. So it is with Freeheld, a well-meaning movie whose sterling intentions, timely and provocative subject and terrific cast are muted to near oblivion by uninspired storytelling and direction.

What’s really missing is the sense of magic. Some films feel like classics from the start. Others don’t. The new “Pinocchio” falls into the latter category. Watching it makes you believe sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone.

You can’t help feeling as if Miller has missed an opportunity. Punk rock was all about manic energy, unbridled (and often unfocused) passion. CBGB plays more like a folk tale.

Aardvark, while it has its moments, never lives up to the potential the cast would suggest.

Lee Toland Krieger's film masquerades for a while as a romantic drama brainier than most, getting good mileage out of an intriguingly odd performance from Blake Lively. But ultimately, the movie relies far too much on contrivance and coincidence.

It all falls flat. Not completely — there is simply too much talent involved for the film to fail completely.

Shankman gets enormously entertaining performances from Tom Cruise and Alec Baldwin, so much so that it's a problem: The movie's not about them.

The story of how Moore made the movie is ultimately more interesting than the film he’s put together. It’s not for lack of trying. It’s more a lack of a cogent story.

The Exorcist: Believer is the first film in a planned trilogy. Better luck next time.

Really, the movie is the third cheeseburger, the fourth beer, the fifth ice-cream sandwich. It’s gluttony, which is kind of enjoyable when you’re in the middle of committing it but leaves you feeling sluggish and remorseful later when you’ve had time to think about it.

If you’re going to keep your audience guessing, you need to provide them with answers they care about. Beckett doesn’t.

If it wasn’t for her, it would be near-unwatchable.

Table 19 is an odd little movie, and a frustrating one.

The film goes all in on its deranged version of the founding of the nation. It wears you down over time, but especially early on it's too satisfied just to be shocking and irreverent.

Meanwhile, the Russos are ensuring that you never forget you’re watching a movie, and a stylized one at that. Note the names of the banks Holland’s character robs, for instance, or other little details. Granted, the person telling the story — Holland’s character — is an unreliable narrator for much of the film. But there’s a fine line between spicing things up and showing off.

While Cuaron’s technical chops are beyond question, his storytelling could use some honing here.

The Marksman is not awful. It’s not particularly good, either, but it’s not the disaster it should have been. Part of that has to do with the way Lorenz stages the action — well-choreographed and tense. Part of it has to do with Perez, who combines being adorable with a kind of hard-won wisdom beyond his years that makes for a completely winning character.

Avatar: Fire and Ash will doubtless join its predecessors in the billion-dollar club. It can't miss. It follows the formula of the previous two films — stunning advancements in film technology coupled with mind-numbing plot, evidently a lucrative combo. Don't get me wrong, these movies look great, genuinely so. They're just so dumb.

We’ve seen it all before — maybe not quite as spectacular, maybe not quite as dumb. It’s Washington who ultimately makes “Gladiator II” stand apart from the first film and makes it a lot more fun than it has any right to be.

A fast-starting film that quickly piles meta, self-referential elements on top of each other until they no longer make much sense, and the whole thing collapses under the weight of its own coolness.

Whether you like The Meg depends on how much you like seeing Jason Statham in and out of a wetsuit, doing action-hero things. He's certainly good at it, and he's the best thing about the movie, not that the competition is particularly fierce.

There are some things to admire in the film, based on the French movie "Pour Elle," most of which involve developments that would give too much away.

It’s long on violence and short on storytelling. It aims high, working in the realm of myths, but it does so in hit-or-miss fashion.

Give credit to Esmail, however, for coming up with an inventive way to tell the story, even if the execution doesn't live up to the idea. He shows great confidence as a director, and the film has a unique look, with heightened reality providing clues that this really is a different world, or worlds, even.

This is a rich, and important story. There’s no argument there. The only problem with “Son of God” is that there are much more compelling ways to tell it.

Focus. Tooth Fairy isn't as bad as you may have feared. It's not all that good, either, but at least it's possible to sit through it and hold down your popcorn.

The script, by Bill Dubuque, goes sideways in a hurry. Characters do inexplicable things for no reason other than advancing the plot, and sometimes not even that. There is a jaw-dropping coincidence that is as ridiculous as it is obvious.

The story is the problem here, devolving into a ridiculous situation that produces far more groans than chills or thrills.

Owen and Binoche both are quite good, rising above the material for the most part. But even they can't save the film from itself, or from an ending that's downright bizarre.

Sometimes it’s absurdist comedy. Sometimes it’s dark comedy. Sometimes it’s out-and-out killing-people drama (almost, but not quite). It’s often funny, but it never quite hangs together as a coherent movie.

It’s not a disaster, and it doesn’t lack for ambition. But it’s wildly uneven and kind of blah, if that can be said of a movie with nonstop, often incoherent action, self-aware needle drops and not nearly enough smart-aleck quips from a cast we’ve seen deliver plenty of them in the past.

Free State of Jones is a well-intentioned slog through a potentially fascinating bit of Civil War history, brought to life only by Matthew McConaughey’s performance, and then only occasionally.

It never really comes together in a satisfying way, and given the talent involved, that adds up to a big disappointment.

Murray occasionally shows flashes of his comic genius, but only flashes.

Into the Storm plays like a special-effects demonstration in search of a movie, but you have to give it to the filmmakers: They take no half-measures.

The commercials were funny and unexpected. The movie, not so much, although there are some solid laughs.

It’s more creepy than scary. But at least, you reckon, this not happening to you.

Part of the problem is that, in trying to convey the chaos of abject fear, Espinosa makes it hard to figure out the architecture of the ship, so we don’t know where anyone’s running.

The Dead Don’t Die isn’t bad, exactly. It’s just that with all this talent and all this beautiful weirdness at hand, it could have been so much better.

The franchise... concludes with a genuinely stirring ending. ... But [Stewart's] acting hasn't improved, and the dialogue remains laughable. Bad actress, bad lines. Bad combination.

A harmless little mess of a movie whose cast you've mostly heard of, including Tim Allen, who also directed.

There are scenes here and there that are worthy, but many that aren't. Lipsky tries to use dialogue to cover up weaknesses in other areas - such as why these people behave the way they do. Some of the movie is inviting, some of it off-putting.

About My Father isn’t horrible. It’s not great. It just sort of exists as a passion project for Maniscalco, an OK gig for most of the rest of the cast and another curious line on De Niro’s resume.

Joe Bell is a well-meaning film with a gripping story it can’t quite figure out how to tell.

The movie plays like a missed opportunity, with its by-the-numbers scares and a story that feels disjointed, hurried in some places, slow in others.

Gringo dabbles in several genres, none particularly well.

It’s a weird little genre, the sick-teen romance. “Five Feet Apart” winds up as just a pedestrian entry in it, because it tries way too hard on the melodrama front. Being a teenager is difficult enough. Being a sick teenager is presumably that much harder. Being a teenager in “Five Feet Apart” means suffering from something else, in addition: overkill. And that’s deadly.

Maybe the real message here is that Brooklyn hipsters are absurdly annoying, whether it's past, present or near future. On that front, Creative Control succeeds. As a compelling film about the alienating effects of technology, not so much.

Cloud Atlas is ambitious in nature, epic in scope and, ultimately, a big, overstuffed mess. [24 Oct 2012]

Although it contains some interesting characters, God's Pocket, like the neighborhood it depicts, is the kind of place you can't wait to escape, even if its inhabitants cannot.

We’re the Millers plays like a “Saturday Night Live” skit that goes on too long.

There are too many misses among the hits. Once you get past the premise, there’s not a lot farther to go

A by-the-numbers, good-vs.-evil tale.

It’s so ridiculously overstuffed it’s kind of fun. That extends to, or perhaps begins with, the look of the film. It’s rich, overripe, yet still kind of seedy.

An improvement over its predecessor.

The biggest problem is the whiplash-inducing tonal shifts. Director Jeff Tomsic, working from a script by Mark Steilen and Rob McKittrick, swings from violent slapstick to tender moments in slapdash fashion. You can’t get a handle on it, though maybe that’s fitting in a movie about trying to keep from being tagged.

It's hard not to be disappointed with The Change-Up, which in the end follows the basic conventions of the switched-identity genre, if more profanely, changing up not much at all.

Oh, all right, some of The Other Woman is funny. The parts with Leslie Mann, mostly, who makes this hit-and-miss, problematic comedy directed by Nick Cassavetes far more entertaining than it has a right to be.

Of the bunch, Plaza, Minghella and Parker fare best, though Parker's Ben is weighed down with cliches. Alex ostensibly is the focal point of the film, but Ritter is relegated mostly to observer status, healing while watching the melodramas unfold around him. A few of them are interesting. But not enough, not in a story that seems familiar because, after all, it is.

Daisy Edgar-Jones is affecting and effective as Kya, known to redneck townsfolk as “The Marsh Girl.” If only the filmmaking and screenwriting were as good as her performance. It’s really just a swampy Southern Gothic soap opera at heart, with designs on being something more.

Half of a Yellow Sun winds up being one of those movies in which a pesky event of great historical import keeps getting in the way of a soap-opera romance.

You shouldn't be able to read a book faster than you can see it play out on-screen.

It’s too bad The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It isn’t a vampire story, because the filmmakers are bleeding this franchise dry.

A movie with a title like Puerto Ricans in Paris comes with certain expectations. Low ones. Thanks to the efforts of Luis Guzman — and they are mighty — Ian Edelman's slight film manages to rise above them. Not by much, but above them, still.

It will quench the thirst of die-hard fans who always want more. But does that thirst justify “The Matrix Resurrections?” Maybe. But it can’t make it a great movie. And despite Reeves’ willingness to jump back in, neither can anything else.

Verbinski manages some squirm-worthy moments, and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli creates a creepy look throughout. But the story doesn’t make sense as it goes along and then devolves into absurdity.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is ultimately an OK entry in a legendary franchise. It’s fun enough, but why bother?

Allen builds to a climax that is ridiculous and a comment on … I don’t know. Fate? Folly? There are plenty of both in Irrational Man, but they’re not often a comfortable mix.

Blomkamp regular Sharlto Copley is quite good — as Chappie, in a motion-capture performance. (He also provides the voice of the robot.) If this were somehow a commentary on man's increasing lack of humanity or something, that would be fine. Instead, it's just good work buried inside a movie made up of intriguing ideas that never really go anywhere.

Despite all of the unlikely scenarios and dubious plot developments, Plummer shines. There are moments here when we understand why he took the role, and many more when we are glad he did. But not enough to make Remember a better movie all the way around.

There are some funny parts, of course, because the cast is so talented. But it’s too much work for too little payoff — sound and fury signifying nothing. Nothing but Minion fart jokes.

There's no question that Black women are underrepresented in movies. There's also no question that when they get a chance to perform, they deserve a better movie than For Colored Girls.

To pretend that the film’s pleasures are more than modest is just that — pretending.

More curiosity than movie, “Michael,” a biopic so reverential towards its subject, Michael Jackson, that it borders on worshipful, can’t seem to figure out what it is.

Check your driver's license - if you have one, you're probably too old to get the most out of it. If not, you may find your satisfaction a little harder - though not impossible - to come by.

Paolo Virzi’s film, based on a novel by Michael Zadoorian, holds few surprises, leaving us with some enjoyable set pieces in a disappointing movie.

J.A. Bayona's film never figures out what it wants to be, casting about for a coherent tone. Thanks in large part to Derek Connolly and Colin Trevorrow's script, it doesn't find one. But at least it has some fun making the effort.

Now You See Me is a movie about magic, but its most astonishing trick is how little mileage it gets out of a stellar cast.

I Feel Pretty is a good idea that never quite clicks the way it should

The scares don't stay with you. They're the horror-movie equivalent of junk food.

Individually they are all good here, though Hardy's skills don't necessarily translate that well to romantic comedy -- which could have been used to good effect, but McG doesn't have the touch to pull that off.

Welcome back, Whit Stillman -- with Damsels in Distress, the hipper-than-thou club is back in session.

There are some compelling elements here, probably too many for one film, but they're too often presented in a cliched way. Connor and co-director Michael Worth go for the easy sentiment, the expected route, leading to middling results.

This is a first-rate cast in a second-rate story with some entertaining bits and some maddening holes. That combination works for late-night channel surfing. Anywhere else, not so much.

It should be funnier. It should be better. Instead, it just sort of is.

The audience should be given game controllers upon entering the theater. It wouldn't mean the film would make any more sense, but at least you'd feel like you had some say in the matter.

Give writer and director John Logan points for creativity, exceptional inclusion and casting Kevin Bacon. But the movie could have used a lot more of the camp-slasher horror part.

To stay fresh, you have to evolve. Rodriguez and Miller have stayed the same.

Gordon is an eclectic director, and he has trouble with the tone here. It’s not that cynicism can’t evolve into something more useful in film. It’s that the reasons should be more convincing.

Despite its looks, talent and pedigree, Transcendence never becomes the movie it could have been.

The food, it must be said, is beautiful. (Mario Batali and Marcus Wareing were consultants on the film.) And Cooper, despite the shortcomings of the role as written, goes all in. So does Miller. This should be a better movie than it is.

I admire what Gyllenhaal attempts in The Bride! I was less satisfied with the execution.

Intruders promises much but delivers relatively little.

Horror comedies can be wildly entertaining -- "The Return of the Living Dead," from 1985, for instance. It sends up horror movies in hilarious fashion while still managing to be gross-out scary. The Revenant never rises to that level. Nor does it seem to want to.

I appreciated the effort Delpy, directing her sixth feature, puts forth in trying to spice up the genre. But that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.

Citizen Koch is undisciplined and depressing, yet still strangely worthwhile.

It’s a movie devoid of storytelling momentum, conflict and, worst of all, much in the way of laughs.

Any film that reminds us that the work for equality is far from done is traveling a worthy path. This one just could have done it better.

There’s nothing wrong with a thriller leaving some loose ends. But Deep Water trips over them too often.

I could see The Woman in the Window becoming a kind of channel-surfing cult classic. But not as long as Rear Window is out there somewhere, too.

It’s not like the first film was some sort of idiot-comedy version of “Citizen Kane” or something. But that film played like a good buzz. The Binge 2: It’s a Wonderful Binge plays more like the hangover that comes after.

The cast is impressive, and again, Bridges is always a welcome presence.

The struggle between faith and reason somehow gets sidetracked, resulting in a sometimes silly, too-obvious journey.

Me Before You is enjoyable in places, and Claflin eventually gives his character some depth beyond simply being angry. But the film exists mostly as a tear-production delivery system.

Sizemore seems to be operating in his own dimension outside the confines of the film and script, just doing whatever he wants. That's not a compliment. Mills' direction is the movie's high point. It's assured, and he stages scenes with skill.

Plenty of families harbor resentments, but the goings-on here become ridiculous. Which is too bad, because Cold Turkey has the seeds of a good movie.

It is a somber slog through the lives of one miserable wretch after another.

It feels flat, disjointed, with too many moving parts.

Racer and the Jailbird, the inelegantly translated title of “Le Fidele,” is a first-rate caper movie. It’s also a pretty good romance. And a boring, suffocating melodrama.

At its best Power Rangers plays a little like a low-rent “Breakfast Club.” Unfortunately it’s not always at its best, and when it’s not, you get exactly what you’d expect: generic teen hero fare.

There are some funny bits and a welcome shot of new blood, but there’s not a lot of overwhelming evidence for this movie’s need to exist.

Suffice it to say that it's something that would make Austin Powers blush, baby, but it's not supposed to be funny.

Patricia Clarkson is kind of funny as Jamie's mom, an unreformed hippie. And Timberlake and Kunis get in a few good laughs before it's over. But with such a well-worn story, you can't shake the idea you've seen this kind of thing before.

There is a sort of unintentional campy fun to be had in places. Just don't go in expecting much, in other words, and perhaps you'll live happily ever after.

If you like watching people drive really nice cars really fast, Need for Speed scratches that particular itch. But expect nothing more, because everything else about it is just running on empty.

Seriously, the movie is pretty awful, but Johnson, as ever, seems to be having a ball, even when he’s all serious and concerned and shot up and beaten up and building-dropped-upon.

There’s so much bouncing around in tone and story that this film never really finds its footing. It flounders around trying to figure out what it should be, and never really settles on anything.

There are a few laughs here and there, along with a couple of jokes for grown-ups uncomfortably squeezed in. But this is a movie made for two groups: small children and people who have fond memories of the TV show.

What the movie needs is a more coherent story. While keeping an audience off-kilter and disoriented is a worthy goal, particularly in a horror film, it’s got to add up to something. In this case it’s more like meandering.

Forever My Girl is a bad movie, pure and simple. And pure and simple is just how writer and director Bethany Ashton Wolf likes it.

Kevin Kline makes a terrific Errol Flynn. He just picked the wrong movie to prove it.

It's paper thin, floating away when it's over without leaving a strong impression one way or another.

Crowe can be a great storyteller, a terrific director whose characters make us believe in them and in what they're doing. That doesn't happen in Aloha, which famously means hello and goodbye. Stick with the latter definition here.

It's stupid, then it veers toward the absurd, but with James at its center it remains sort of sweet throughout. You can't hate James or the movie; both are just sort of dopey but well-meaning.

It’s a matter of pacing and choices, what Penna chooses to focus on and what he ignores. He’s got all the elements of a good movie right in front of him. He just never puts all the pieces together.

Awash in mawkish sentimentality, Dear John still will move you deeply - if you're a 12-year-old girl.

It takes effort to turn a movie with a cast as appealing as the one in The Longest Week into a grating exercise in narcissism, but writer and director Peter Glanz proves up to the task.

This is a talented cast working for a talented director in a film that never reaches the heights it should have.

The story is a grab bag of only-in-the-movies kid problems and ridiculous adult behavior.

True enough, she's trying to do the right thing. But she never quite gets there. And that gets old, making "Ramona" wear out its welcome long before it should have.

So sickeningly sweet dentists should show it in their waiting rooms to ensure business, the film just isn’t very good, even by treacly holiday film standards.

Innocence is a misguided little horror film, reminiscent of one of those cheesy '70s made-for-TV movies that kind of, sort of seem scary when you're 9 but are just dopey at any other age.

There are some laughs, sure, but not enough. It was funny the first time. This is the second time, and returns diminish accordingly.

There’s no rescuing Non-Stop from its own worse impulses. The likable Neeson’s implausible second act as an action star continues, but not in a believable direction.

The Lone Ranger is a frustrating exercise in overkill, a kind-of, sort-of interesting idea buried in summer-movie excess.

Ultimately, and perhaps most disappointingly, The Mummy winds up being not so much its own movie as what, by the end, feels like the first episode of a show that's already been renewed for several seasons. Because, in some respects, that's what it is.

The movie is a big disappointment, because ultimately Slender Man does not get the full-on creep-out treatment such an intriguing character deserves. Here he's just a generic horror bad guy, doing standard horror-bad-guy things. He could be anything, really, and therefore winds up, like the movie, being not much.

Blended is an Adam Sandler movie that isn't as bad as you feared it would be.

The story of her life is pretty well-known. But in Diana, it’s not particularly well told.

There are a couple of good performances and a few funny bits, but mostly the film just bounces back and forth until coming to a flat, trite close.

You hate to see a good cast wasted, but when it comes to 5 Flights Up, the verdict is: no sale.

Depp's performance is still one of the few bright spots in the movie. Richards is back, too, in an all-too-brief appearance as Sparrow's father.

The intentions were probably noble, but the execution not so much.

It’s often cloying, absurdly melodramatic, and the premise exists largely as a tear-manufacturing device.

Typically actors like Winslet and Elba can elevate even the most-pedestrian material, but making this story better would require a feat of superhuman strength.

The movie has its moments (some of the songs are fun, as always), but like Plankton’s efforts at taking over the world, it’s ultimately a disappointment.

It's a slight movie that makes "Broadcast News" look like "All the President's Men" in comparison.

Some movies are kind of fake good — at first blush they seem to have all the ingredients in place to be successful. But on further inspection, it’s all a trick. That’s the kind of movie this is.

A lot of talent comes up empty in Red Lights, a thriller that doesn't thrill.

The problems with the narrative begin early. [Review of re-release]

The worst thing about What to Expect When You're Expecting, director Kirk Jones' fictionalized film version, is how fake it is, how cartoonish the experiences.

Michael Manasseri’s film wants to be one of those sweet-with-sharp-notes comedies, and in some respects it is. But it is overwhelmed with clichés, stereotypes and overly broad portrayals.

Director David Ayer is using the blood and guts to make a point about the insane violence committed by drug cartels, yes, but the bloodshed is unrelenting and, ultimately, exhausting.

A popular topic for debate is whether television or movies are better right now. Movie defenders are not going to want to use Dorfman in Love to bolster their argument.

The elements are all there. They’re just thrown together in haphazard fashion. A funny scene here, an attempt at a touching scene there, toss, repeat randomly, the end.

It’s not fair to either of these actors to want to see Rocky and the Terminator over and over again. But it is fair to want to see them in something better than this.

The ending is sick enough to make it almost worth the wait. Key word: almost.

It's an ironclad rule for comedies: Stupid is fine, as long as it's funny. But if it's not? Well, then it's just . . . stupid.

What really saves Super Troopers 2, to the extent that it even wants to be saved, is how gleefully the Broken Lizard bunch goes about its work.

There aren't any scares to speak of, though there is some gore. The cast is game to try anything, but there's just not much here for them to work with. Like most zombies, Burying the Ex is an idea that should have stayed dead.

Without real innovation or story evolution, Blair Witch becomes a trip down a rabbit hole of misery and suffering.

It seems hollow, somehow false, even by its own campy standards.

This movie is exhausting.

Inferno...is the kind of movie that stops — and stoops — to explain, early and often. Not that the explanations amount to much; the movie makes almost no sense.

With Sarah Palin: You Betcha! director Nick Broomfield manages to screw it up.

The film, like most of MacFarlane's work, is a mix of occasional laugh-out-loud moments — there are some here — and cringe-worthy misfires that play a lot more tone-deaf than he seems to intend.

The Wachowskis never lack for ambition. It's in the execution where they run into trouble.

The Forest is one of those horror movies that starts with an intriguing idea but has no idea what to do with it.

Some of the imagery is memorable, in a twisted-horror kind of way. Zombie has no trouble scaring up atmosphere. But other scenes are ridiculous, unintentionally funny, particularly one he builds up to ominously, only to give us a silly payoff.

Subtle, it's not.

You’d think a move about the potential for the destruction of universes would feel pretty high stakes, but this one doesn’t. Nor does it connect on the family drawn together through adversity front.

It’s not just that the jokes aren’t funny, or that they’re given to genius comic actors like Eddie Murphy and Julia Louis-Dreyfus to deliver — which has to be some kind of pop-culture crime — the bigger issue is that there's not a single instance of recognizable human behavior in the entire film.

The production is nice looking, and telling the Edward-and-Wallis story from her side is an interesting idea, but it's one that Madonna simply can't pull off here.

Everyone here has been better, and funnier, in other things. This is a lazy story, wholly dependent upon the likability of its cast which, while considerable, isn’t enough to make it worth the trouble.

Beyond the Reach is a misfire, one of those movies that never quite rises to the level of guilty pleasure.

Legends of Oz: Dorothy's Return lacks any sense of magic.

If you’re going to make an origin story, make an origin story. On second thought, if you’re Joe Wright looking to tell us where Peter Pan and Captain Hook came from, maybe don’t.

You can practically see Hart straining to break free of the script and let loose with a wild improvisational rant, and you never lose hope that he might. (Spoiler alert: He doesn’t.)

Peter Lepeniotis’ animated film brings together a good cast, including Will Arnett, Brendan Fraser and Liam Neeson, which sounds like a sweet deal. But it places them in an uninspired little movie about selfish behavior, which, while overcome (of course), never really manages to escape its bitter roots.

A documentary so enthusiastic, good-natured and sweet about such an abject disaster that it almost makes "Troll 2" worthwhile. Almost.

The best thing about the movie, by far, is Green. Her Artemisia is a real nut case with a taste for blood, and Green is the only one in the cast who seems to be having any fun at all.

The Last Days on Mars isn’t a disaster. Robinson, in fact, shows some promise. It’s just not much of anything, a movie ultimately as barren as the landscape on which it takes place.

It’s a lame, scare-free film that wants really badly to work in the vein of “It Follows,” but has none of the intelligence.

This is a wretched movie, trading on characters we revere, yet doing nothing to honor them. Director Peter Segal tries everything he can to recapture the magic of the earlier movies, but to no avail. It’s all rather sad.

Dog Days isn't so much a movie as an emotional delivery system, meant to make you laugh a little, cry a little and say, "Awww" about 10,000 times. On that front, it's a complete success. As an actual film, well, not so much.

Planes was originally scheduled to be released straight to video. Although the smallest children might like bits and pieces of it, there’s nothing in the movie that suggests why Disney strayed from its original plan.

The look of the film is impressive enough, but the performances are merely OK. The same goes for the story.

To say The Marvels is all over the place is to imply that there is an anchor to it somewhere. There’s not.

It's all silly and meant to be fun, except when Najafi tries to throw in some serious bits, which wind up being sillier still.

Checking subtlety at the door, Monteverde goes for broke on the emotional-manipulation front. Perhaps that's OK as a device for illustrating a parable, but it doesn't make for much of a movie.

Director David Leitch’s film, based on the novel by Kôtarô Isaka, is a hyper-stylized, hyper-violent action film that rarely comes up for air. It’s also a big ol’ mess. Although everyone involved seems to be having a good time.

There is an engrossing, important story at the heart of 7 Days in Entebbe. Unfortunately, it only shows up intermittently.

Turns out there can be too much of a good thing. Or a campy thing. Or a silly thing. Or a subtle-as-a-brick-in-the-face thing.

For the most part the jokes here are tired. William H. Macy is a welcome presence in the small role of Phil's offbeat-but- intense boss.

Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb is a rather lackluster affair, a cash grab that tries to aim a little higher but confuses sappy shortcuts with real emotion.

If this is the end — and who are we kidding, the film’s box-office returns will determine that, not its plot — it’s a disappointing one. But it’s long past time to let it die.

All the action leads inexorably toward the unavoidable destination.

Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates gives us too much hangover and not enough buzz.

As with most prequels, there's ultimately not a lot of suspense, since we know what's going to happen in the next installments. Tell us something something to care about.

Let's just call "Allegiant" what it is: A way for the studio to make money and bring you back next year for the real finale. See you then. Maybe.

A strong cast can't save Virginia.

The folks behind Free Birds are trying to entertain us. But they rarely succeed.

Statham is always good as the silent butt-kicking type and is fine here. Franco, as is often the case, seems to be acting in his own private movie and having a grand old time doing so; results for the audience may vary. Bosworth is good, scary skinny and wired for trouble as a menacing mom.

The Shallows is pretty much a woman stranded on a rock, with a big shark between her and the shore. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat?” “We’re gonna need a smaller bikini,” more like.

You see this cast, you expect to see a lot of violent action. And in that regard, The Expendables delivers, and then some. In this case, then, the old saying applies: Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.

Jang and Odagiri are good as the rival runners and soldiers. But they are surrounded by over-the-top performances, which play out like a mugging contest.

The film is visually striking, even if the images don’t always make sense.

Everything, Everything is a flawed film in many ways, but there is one that’s a deal breaker: It doesn’t make you cry.

Trouble is, it all adds up to . . . not much.

There are a couple of intriguing ideas floating around here and there, but that's all they do - float around, unmoored by any sense of reality and, thus, suspense.

Carrey and Daniels are good actors, and it's understandable when an artist wants to revisit a career-high point. How much you enjoy Dumb and Dumber To will depend greatly upon whether you think "Dumb and Dumber" was one.

At times it’s a learn-your-lesson story. At times it’s a shoot-’em-up that does not skimp on the gore. Whatever trope it dips into, it does so without much originality.

It's a modestly interesting coming-of-age movie, and a totally forgettable mystery.

It's not as if every funny movie has to offer something in the way of social commentary or greater insight. Sometimes funny is just funny. Sometimes, as is too often the case here, it's not.

There’s a freewheeling spirit to The Bubble that’s meant to reflect the times during which the film was made, but instead of creative forces finally unleashed it comes off as half-baked, more like a first draft than a finished film. Apatow knows comedy, and his intentions here are good. It’s just the movie that isn’t.

MacFarlane's film is too broad, too dumb, too offensive to justify the meager laughs it generates.

There are some scares here, in the same way that there is some pain when you hit your thumb with a hammer. Blunt force carries a lot of power. But there isn’t a lot of thought. It’s the same idea as the first movie, just not as well-done.

It's just kind of a mess, as unfocused and immature as the four mutant turtles at its core. Stuff happens, stuff blows up and this is probably a good time to mention that Michael Bay produced the film.

Nothing seems real here, with everything too broadly drawn.

The dialogue is particularly bad, which is odd because the Duplass crowd typically excels at natural-sounding dialogue.

Home Again is a romantic comedy with its heart in the right place. And that’s just about the only thing it has going for it. It’s facile, disingenuous, artificial in nearly every way.

Everything is overwrought, every circumstance a potential tragedy. Humor is largely absent.

It seems unfinished, choppy, the storytelling almost of the after-school special variety.

Burke and Hare is a waste of a good cast and a better story, as well as a hollow reminder of how John Landis seemingly has lost his touch.

As with any movie of this sort, there are a few laughs. Johnson is as likable an actor as there is, and it’s to the actors’ credit that they buy in to the stupidity. But there aren’t enough laughs and not nearly enough story.

If Eastwood wanted to use the real men, a documentary would have been just as powerful and more dramatically satisfying. Instead, the acting is distracting. The film’s intentions are sterling. Its execution, not so much.

There's far too much going on in Valentine's Day, and far too little of it is worth the trouble.

What makes mythology so great is its sense of danger, the threat of real loss. This version of “Percy” has none of that.

It’s all too much without ever turning into much at all.

An unruly mix of science, morality, family dysfunction, horror and finger-down-the-throat gross-out ridiculousness.

It's big and it's loud, but ultimately not much more than that.

Using the horror genre to tell a faith-based story is an interesting idea, even if it doesn’t really work in the end. And then Beck shows up, and that’s the scariest thing of all.

Movies like this are supposed to be ridiculous on some level. It's part of the fun. But, dang. Falling through space, popping your parachute and landing on the one empty stretch of freeway in some bustling future city? C'mon. We all have our limits.

It’s an awkwardly constructed movie that doesn’t really gel.

The movie, based on the novel by Stephenie Meyer of “Twilight” fame and directed by Andrew Niccol, is just kind of dumb. Like the more famous books and movies, about a love triangle between a vampire, a werewolf and a human girl, it often plays like a teenage girl’s idea of how literary romances play out.

Ultimately, the movie is really boring. Any charm or spark it might have had is quashed by a lack of strong direction and writing.

The cast is intriguing, with Uma Thurman, Christina Ricci and Kristin Scott Thomas as the targets of Pattinson's ambitious amour. But they're not given a whole lot to do -- at least not much that's interesting.

A lackluster second effort that mines a lot of the same jokes. Only no joke is as funny the second time around, even when it's being delivered by really funny people.

The trouble with a movie like Jungle Cruise is the comparison it invites. And in this case, the ride is better.

There are some good ideas in there, even timely. But eventually, like everything else in the movie, they’re washed away in a sea of blood and a hail of bullets.

The problem is the movie itself – the script, the editing, the construction, all of which combine to make the whole thing feel flat, lifeless and confusing.

The jolts are of the jump-out-from-behind-the-door variety; you can see them coming from a long way off, too. Shyamalan seems to no longer have the confidence to let audiences figure things out or the patience to allow them to.

The most interesting parts of Father Stu, an OK film in which Mark Wahlberg plays a rough-hewn man who finds redemption in an unexpected place, are not the ones you — and possibly the filmmakers — would expect.

Director Wes Ball's film is a mad dash from one place to the next, with little time in between for rest, recuperation or plot development.

Diggs does what he can with the part, as does Patton. There are some funny moments, because most of the cast is so charming. But not enough to make up for the Stone Age attitude about women and marriage.