Connie Ogle

Rich in cliché and brimming with the sort of potent idiocy that can only be found in January-release romantic comedies, Leap Year manages to do every possible thing wrong.

The film isn't particularly original, but its dark mood, end-of-times landscape and unique characters will seem fresher to the young audience for which it's aiming than to jaded sci-fi veterans.

A film based on this information is potentially interesting, but Conspiracy of Silence, set in modern-day Ireland, is incoherent and often hard to follow.

Amateurishness -- the camera angles sometimes chop off the top of Reiser's head -- aside, The Thing About My Folks is also weirdly dated, especially with regard to technology.

Ends up as colorless as Reeves' first Superman suit.

Vibrant and intriguing, a fine adaptation despite the slight departures from its source, with warm cinematography that captures the feel of '50s Saigon and two performances worthy of Oscar attention.

This new Brideshead Revisted, though imperfectly revised, is not entirely regrettable.

Despite its subject matter, Transamerica is a surprisingly funny movie, because Tucker never lets the pathos overwhelm his sense of humor.

A film that's funny and entertaining for kids and adults.

It's not only the mythical, mind-reading creature at the story's center that prevents the film from taking flight. A worn-out plot and a novice actor also contribute to the disappointment.

The film does provide some nice shots of Venice and offers one solid reason to display a little patriotic fervor: We do have the freedom to avoid such rote, shallow dullness.

Shockingly, it's an understated but amusing Ferrell who keeps Winter Passing from growing unbearable.

Unapologetically appalling, more disgusting than anything you've ever seen and moronic enough to make you wonder about that theory on the depletion of the gene pool. It is also so funny it will make you choke.

Trade's wake-up call needs to be heeded, but its missteps detract from its devastating message.

What's missing most in the film, though, is a palpable sense of tension.

Guggenheim managed to turn a Power Point presentation into a crowd-pleasing Academy Award winner, but he can't do much to free Gracie from its constraints and clichés.

A tired and unnecessary sequel.

The real hit of the movie is the hilarious Bateman. His low-key humor makes you wish Hancock could have saved Bateman's short-lived sitcom "Arrested Development." Now that would have been heroic.

Much like the play within it, Hamlet 2 is lousy. The main difference is that the play is SUPPOSED to be awful. The movie about the play is supposed to be funny.

What most hurts The Day After Tomorrow is its unfortunate, lecturing tone.

A cheesy horror film can offer a vicarious cheap thrill or two. Darkness Falls offers only a test of the patience, not even providing much chance to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of its villain.

Stomp the Yard hasn't an original bone in its fierce, sweaty body, but explosive choreography, high-energy moves and a generous helping of hot, frequently shirtless guys offer plenty of entertainment.

Wimbledon may have its faults, but it's the sort of upbeat fantasy that's tough to resist. Maybe love wins in tennis after all.

Sometimes less truly is more, and Love in the Time of Cholera is proof.

Schwarzenegger doesn't at all seem too old for the part; his bulging muscles still fill the action-hero's suit just fine. It's what he's doing that is tired and, maybe, played out.

The Pick of Destiny is fast and funny, and you can't beat the songs (especially the not exactly heartwrenching Dude I Totally Miss You).

The uneven Goldmember seems to take a big step toward the extremely juvenile, with more scatological and fewer sex jokes

If you're not a rabid fan of Texas hold 'em -- the poker phenomenon that swept the country a couple of years ago but is hardly cutting edge now -- you might want to step quickly away from Lucky You.

Not about sex; it's about leaps of faith, at work, in love, in life.

So hilarious that even longtime Ferrell haters (me) can't resist it.

Just amusing enough to provoke a few chuckles and just short enough to keep you from glancing at your watch.

The actors, aside from Sevani, were clearly not cast for their mad acting skills.

Put in such an uncomfortable position, the audience needs something to fall back on, like chemistry between its stars. Here that's half-hearted at best.

If it's not quite as funny as you want it to be, it's still more than enough to keep you entertained.

Wild Hogs is a paint-by-numbers comedy, borrowing most of its broad strokes from sitcoms, and not clever ones like "The Office" and 3"0 Rock," either.

The girls who adore the likable Everygirl Bynes will find a lot to enjoy about the film, especially the boys who look as though they just were lounging around the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog.

Exhausts you with its derivative stupidity, leaving you weak and bored and weary of comedy that's not funny, action that's not exciting, dialogue that's not clever. It's not even an adequate rip-off of the TV show.

Vardalos made the Portokaloses so funny they'll make your own family seem tame.

Its frights are not that chilling or original, its secrets more run-of-the-mill than astounding.

If you need proof that the British are different from the rest of us, look no farther than the thought-provoking Separate Lies, a chilly, intelligent and absorbing drama about infidelity, ethics and forgiveness.

The most astounding thing about this abysmal comedy -- aside from the fact the studio actually allowed critics within a mile of it -- is that it's so ghastly it is beneath even the meager dignity of Paris Hilton.

Where the film goes wrong is in its attempts to cling too firmly to "Pride and Prejudice."

Don't waste your money.

But the blame for the stultifying Mooseport lies squarely on the shoulders of the screenwriters and anyone else who assumed the limited Romano could carry such a dated, lousy film. The results are in: He can't do it, at least not without a lot more help.

Entertaining in spite of itself.

A tepid sort of romantic comedy, with lengthy stretches during which nothing much happens punctuated by bouts of paralyzing boredom or, on rare occasions, random but fleeting hilarity.

Never reaches this level of devastating loss despite its tragedies, but it's not the dismal bomb that much of the British press claims.

In the thriller Into the Blue, the Bahamian waters dazzle the eye. They are breathtaking and welcoming, possessing mysterious depths. The same cannot be said for the film's stars, Paul Walker and Jessica Alba, who are every bit as gorgeous as the scenery but not quite so profound.

Twisted is a movie so derivative it's hard to pinpoint exactly how many other thrillers it poaches from.

Gridiron Gang is not imaginative, but neither is it painful to watch.

Explicitly invites us to mock its artificiality and giggly cluelessness, but beyond its attractive shell the film rings hollow. These days, even a comedy has got to have a heart.

The racing itself is entertaining enough, though it's not so mesmerizing as the shorter, more focused competition in the far-superior "Seabiscuit."

The result is this infectious documentary, which combines some inspired musical performances with Chappelle's perpetually hilarious commentary.

Manages to be entertaining, largely because of the appealing Adam Brody.

Mostly silly and always frothy, as sugary at times as wedding-cake frosting but tempered with a welcome strain of sour grapes, mostly doled out by the peerless Judy Greer as Jane's cynical, slutty best friend.

Wah-Wah's characters are wonderfully human and flawed and still capable of stirring empathy, which is appealing. But in the end, the film isn't saying much at all.

In the end, Roger Dodger doesn't really add up to much. Guys can be jerks when they're lonely, or even when they're not. It's not news. But Kidd's version of this truth shows he's a writer worth watching.

Loaded with so much drama that the story sinks into a grim, sloppy soap-opera mix.

Doesn't feel quite so lengthy as its predecessor. And while it still falls short of becoming the classic fans so badly want it to be, the film is livelier and better overall than "The Sorcerer's Stone."

For all its pretension and artiness, Blindness is more like M. Night Shyamalan's "The Happening" (which at least had the decency to be fast-paced and short), right down to its upbeat and inane conclusion.

More than just another feel-good teacher movie.

The Great Debaters keeps things on the surface and pushes the obvious buttons, hoping you won't notice its distinct lack of depth.

Observe and Report conveys an essential truth about Rogen: Like every other actor on the planet, he needs good material to do good work.

This melding of comedic minds is one of the better holiday gifts we've received, cinematically speaking.

The less said about Simpson's performance the better. From the neck down she fulfills all the requirements, but, honestly, I think General Lee might do a better job with the dialogue.

It's just awful. Pointless, lazy, derivative and paralyzingly dull.

Not that the film is so horrendously offensive -- it's almost, and I hesitate to say this, too stupid to provoke insult -- but it's juvenile enough to suck a few IQ points out of any audience member with a brain cell.

An insipid comedy in which the women are shallow, acquisitive, backstabbing, selfish harridans.

Trailers make it seem as though Radio is all about football, but it's not, and once the film leaves the fall sport behind it wanders around in no particular direction until it reaches an abrupt, poorly executed ending.

Mostly, though, The Big Bounce isn't offensive, or even terrible. It's just lazy, relying on numb moviegoers to fork over cash thinking they'll see the next "Get Shorty" or "Out of Sight."

Mottola softens his approach, and Adventureland turns out to be more like "Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist" than a Judd Apatow creation.

It's fun to watch the stocky, scowling Ice Cube and skinny, jittery Epps play off each other; they click on screen.

Harmless, mildly enjoyable.

What we're left with is an unfocused, rambling concept that lumbers off the ground but never really soars to the level of lunacy it could, especially at the afterthought of an ending, which is nonsensical at best.

The only real casualty of Lehane's novel is Angie, here reduced to a supporting player who bears no resemblance to the original character, who is every bit as smart and tough and interesting as her boyfriend. It's a regrettable loss in a film that otherwise indicates its first-time director knows what he's doing.

Funny even when it relies heavily on age-old, old-age gags.

Here's what is bad: this movie.

It's a small, heartening slice of life that feels like a crucial step toward something bigger.

This Pride & Prejudice isn't minutely faithful to the book -- and for good reason -- but it is authentic where it counts: to the confused, wounded, eager hearts of its lovers.

It is always intriguing as it follows the arrest and captivity of Salomon Sorowitsch (the terrific Karl Markovics), one of Germany's leading counterfeiters.

A well-intentioned coming-of-age film anchored by two indelible performances but weakened by an overabundance of drama.

Sometimes it seems as though Hollywood can't make a decent action movie anymore. Now that's a thought to make you go ballistic.

Plays out as little more than a diversion, one that does not truly break any new ground. But it's undeniably interesting and leaves plenty of room for a more thoughtful film about women and education.

You won't necessarily applaud The Notebook's excesses, but its final moments of grace will leave you in a sodden heap on the theater floor.

It is a grim and monotonous affair despite the overkill of bad guys -- a trio of evil spirits plus a bonus serial killer -- mixed with a few cheap shocks futilely intended to make the audience jump.

The film is weighted down by a dour sensibility at odds with the book's insouciant charm.

This crowd-pleaser is a genuinely inspirational film, gorgeously filmed and wonderfully acted, echoing an uplifting sentiment that bears repeating: ''You don't throw a whole life away just because it's banged up a little.''

The film is supposed to be about tolerance, but the only acceptance comes in terms of how the islanders accept the Mormon teachings. Somehow, that doesn't quite feel divine.

Fast and funny, and grown-ups will not suffer sitting through it.

Riveting.

The comedy is slapstick, the colors Day Glo, the outcome inevitable.

A well-acted, well-crafted but excruciatingly tepid romantic film about a subject that will attract poetry lovers and yet test even their considerable patience.

In an ironic twist, Mira Nair's big-hearted yet by-the-numbers biopic of Amelia Earhart never -- unlike the famous aviatrix -- takes chances.

Letters to Juliet will never be mistaken for an epic romance -- too light, too silly, too mistake-prone -- but the ingredients of its tasty chick-flick stew are tried and true.

The idea of cracking a secret message from the enemy during war is thrilling; making the process interesting to watch is more problematic.

When it comes to exploring our peculiar blindness as to what's important in our lives, the film is a disturbing but accurate road map.

Timing is key in a comedy like this, and Sonnenfeld keeps everyone and everything clicking. The pacing is swift and the laughs are steady.

Makes a compelling argument for women's rights without ever succumbing to preachiness.