David Sterritt

It's all idiotic but energetic, directed by Jan De Bont in his usual techno-action style.

The story is lively and energetic, if you can take its raunchy jokes and rowdy behavior.

Slow, beautifully filmed, Nolte's Jefferson implausible.

There are lots of lively tunes in an excellent cause, but in the end you wish you'd either probed more deeply into historical events or heard more uninterrupted minutes of inspired performing.

Daum travels to Poland with his wife and their skeptical sons in this documentary, hoping to prove that people who are not Orthodox Jews like them are worthy of attention and compassion.

The story is so calculated that it ultimately bears little relation to the real world.

The characters are stereotypes and the psychology is simplistic, but the movie builds an effective sense of claustrophobic menace that thriller fans may enjoy.

Measured against family-film classics like The Wizard of Oz or The Black Stallion, to mention just two of my favorites, The Secret Garden is a bit slender, neither as ingeniously inventive nor as majestically mysterious as the best of its breed.

As dull as it is to watch, "Star Trek" at least possesses a measure of intellectual pizzazz: not enough to provoke thought and discussion, exactly, but more than many "Star Wars" imitators have bothered to give us. [4 Jan. 1980, p.15]

Much of the movie seems wired and overeager when it ought to be refreshing and relaxed. Everybody sweats and strains to be magical, and while they often succeed, the onslaught of so much aggressive charm is exhausting.

The depression drama is undermined by lumpy directing and by a flat performance from Steve Martin, who never approaches the dramatic eloquence he obviously has in mind. [24 Dec 1981, p.22]

The drama has compelling moments and touches of imagination, but it relies more on sentiment than sense in conveying its messages about faith, family, and tradition.

The story is less original than its setting - it knocks off everything from "Lord of the Flies" to "The Blair Witch Project" -and its unromantic moods may make DiCaprio's countless "Titanic" fans want to swim in the opposite direction.

The sweetest thing about Sweet November (a remake of the 1968 movie) is the on-screen magic between Charlize Theron and Keanu Reeves. But that's pretty much where the magic ends.

The first hour is excellent, spinning an ethically and emotionally compelling tale. Narrative logic fades during the second half, though, reducing the movie's impact on every level.

Goodman's comic delivery gets maximum mileage from a few amusing situations, though.

There's more than enough gruesomeness to keep hard-core horror fans screaming, but others should stay a million miles away - or 2 million, if spiders make you squirm. [12 Jun 1998, p.B2]

The dialogue isn't quite as sparkling and the plot twists aren't quite as snappy as you want them to be. And the story keeps rambling on after its oomph runs wearisomely thin.

The screenplay doesn't ultimately make much sense. Carrey is a unique comic talent, though, and Freeman and Aniston back him up with such sensitive supporting performances that the film almost works if you can suspend enough disbelief to swallow its fantastic premise.

The movie teeters on a slippery dividing line between realism and fiction. It gains power from the mercurial nature of its improvised acting and split-screen camera work, though.

Pedro Almodovar's Spanish drama is his most involving work since the comedy "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown," but its mood of ironic melancholy doesn't hold up enough to make the picture a full success.

The story may be too slow and complicated for the youngest moviegoers.

Although this is a likable comedy-drama, it never quite balances its humanitarian message (disabled people fall in love like everyone else) with its standard-issue romantic angles.

Although it's touching and sincere, Washington's directorial debut is weakened by a too-slow pace and a story that offers few real surprises.

The story is spotty, but the acting is fine, especially when Walken is around.

The net effect is a barrage of jokes that strain to be outrageous - just as the marionette gimmick strives to be different - but wind up canceling each other out.

This violent Hong Kong thriller has more psychological depth than most of its kind, but ultimately seems like a pointless exercise in style.

This likable comedy-drama gets most of its oomph from acting.

Carrey gives an awesome comic performance.. Look out for huge amounts of deliberately disgusting, gross-out humor, though.

Unlawful Entry would be an important film if it followed this scene with an intelligent look at the social, political, and institutional problems that lead to such incidents. Unfortunately, the movie isn't serious-minded enough to do this. What could have been an incisive examination of an urgently relevant subject turns into mere melodrama with the usual sex-and-violence twists. [14 July 1992, p.11]

Heavy on violence and special effects, light on everything else.

Paul Verhoeven's movie takes more action than ideas from Robert A. Heinlein's 1959 novel, which is just as well, considering the book's goofy suggestion that military veterans should control society from top to bottom.

Interesting for its historical content.

A standard-issue slasher movie, stylishly shot, but with little to distinguish it from a long line of "Psycho"-spawned gorefests.

Goes on much too long, stretching a modest story into a marathon that outlasts its welcome by about 30 minutes.

A very uneven dark comedy.

Hovering between "Last Action Hero" and "E.T.," this sci-fi extravaganza is bookended with violence but has some gentle moments in between.

Doesn't develop enough momentum to justify its too-long running time.

For all its ambitions, though, the Coens' odyssey is a scattershot affair with too many tricks and twists for its own good.

There's interesting material about Soviet history, but searching for answers about the revolutionary's spouse turns out to be less than engrossing.

This modestly produced drama isn't acted or directed with much flair, but it shows a welcome awareness of the complex links between personal and political impulses.

Pierce Brosnan wisecracks his way through the starring role with more aplomb than credibility.

More psychological realism and less showy cinema would have made this offbeat melodrama more memorable.

Talky and mostly humorless, but interesting as a reflection of Breillat's experiences directing her own popular film "Fat Girl" in 2001.

Based on Bennett's own experiences, the movie has no penetrating insights to offer, but it's acted and directed in an improvisational spirit well-suited to its ultra-low budget and digital-video technology.

It's as elegant as any movie around, though, and boasts strong acting by a distinguished cast.

This low-key drama is always warm and mellow, although it doesn't build much of an emotional charge.

The screenplay is so stale that even fans of the previous "Jurassic" installments might think this is one clone too many.

Written and directed by the clever Wachowski brothers, this is a sequel that only a die-hard fan could love. But those fans will love it very, very much.

Burns is one of the great entertainers of all time, but he's written out of the story much too soon, leaving us little to watch except Schlatter doing an endless Burns imitation. [08 Apr 1988, p.21]

While the story and acting are the opposite of subtle, young moviegoers may enjoy the action and suspense.

Much of the acting is solid, but earnest performances can't give the picture all the bite and excitement it sorely needs.

Horror buffs will find plenty of split-second suspense and in-your-face carnage, while others will scramble for the exit as quickly as the characters race away from their apocalyptic foes.

As gorgeous as it is to watch, Winged Migration suffers from a lack of organization.

The drawn-out, lowbrow humor is either "love it" or "hate it," so it may not be your bag, baby.

Sincere acting lends the film a measure of dramatic dignity.

Heavily influenced by Quentin Tarantino's brand of quirky sensationalism, this high-energy saga by Paul Thomas Anderson goes a long way toward exposing the greed and stupidity of the pornography trade, then loses its moral compass and steers toward a sadly superficial ending.

This thriller was overpraised in the '60s and it still looks hokey. The acting ranges from wooden to petrified: Day and Rex Harrison are at their least convincing, and John Gavin sounds like his voice was dubbed by someone barely more British than himself. [29 Jul 1987, p.19]

Few movies have sought this particular blend of detective-story melodrama and religious sensitivity.

It delivers all the raunch and ribaldry its designated audience could hope for, but others may find it more deliberately disgusting than effervescently outrageous.

Too crisp and calculated to match the moods of its wild and woolly characters, and its interwoven subplots lead to predictable outcomes.

Certainly offbeat, but not on a level with director Kim's previous work about marginalized people.

The primary impression is lots of moping and mooning, plus a song at the beginning with some of the worst lyrics you've ever heard.

It's fun to watch superheroes who aren't quite at ease with their abilities, but "The Incredibles" - last year's similarly themed animated film - is livelier and funnier.

Skip the first hour or so, but grab a seat in time for the surfing contest that climaxes the picture, complete with mile-high waves and the most graceful ocean-gliding this side of "The Endless Summer."

The story gets off to a slow start after its riveting documentary-style introduction, but heartfelt acting and unexpected plot twists eventually give it solid dramatic impact.

A country singer wagers that she can teach her trade to a New York cabbie, with predictable results. Directed by Bob Clark, who mostly exploits the presold personalities of stars Dolly Parton and Sylvester Stallone.

In its depiction of the Las Vegas nightclub scene and in its own cinematic strategies, the film is quite instructive about the intersection of sex, money, and entertainment in some areas of popular American culture. [29 Sept 1995]

It's big, beautiful, and imposing. But there isn't much to it, and pretty pictures -- replacing ideas, not supporting them -- are its only real attraction.

The movie has plenty of high-tech power, spinning out action so explosive you'll hardly notice how preposterous the story is or how cardboard-thin the characters are.

Newman's magnetic face isn't enough to raise this intermittently amusing thriller above the ordinary caper-comedy crowd.

Plunges energetically into the 16th-century religious rebel's activities and philosophies. It dodges some significant issues in Luther's life, however, reducing its value as an educational film.

Less an American product than an international escapade, it's the kind of pigeonhole-resisting romp that Hollywood too rarely provides.

The idea of a Woody Allen movie about fame is enticing, but a meandering screenplay and uninspired acting make this one of his thinnest, tinniest films.

Great cast, great atmosphere, little sense or first-rate suspense.

Tasty while you take it in, but larded down with empty cinematic calories.

For a major sci-fi release in the Star Wars era, it's surprisingly slow and even maudlin.

Too many clichés and too much uneven acting dilute its impact.

The flamboyantly filmed story makes some telling points about adolescent life. But despite its oh-so-cynical mannerisms, it falls all over itself to flatter an allegedly self-absorbed and self-pitying teen audience. [7 April 1989]

The meandering story and channel-surfing style prevent it from gathering the emotional momentum it would need to get below the hero's skin and let us know what really makes him tick.

The multicultural cast gives a shred of substance to what's otherwise a standard adolescent gross-out flick.

Energetic acting helps compensate for a contrived script and directing that's sometimes as heavy as its cheerfully rotund characters.

Based on a popular book by Betty MacDonald, the story is silly at best, woefully predictable at worst. MacMurray and Colbert are in excellent form, though, and Louise Albritton heads a colorful cast of supporting players. [14 Oct 1987, p.21]

The story is an odd mixture of preachiness and paranoia, but the stars provide sizzling performances and the action moves at a lively clip.

Harrowing and imaginatively made.

The action is dynamically filmed and Willis is at his best. Suspense is soon hijacked by outright gore and grisliness, though.

The story's emphasis is on action, but there are some sensitive moments and interesting ideas along the way.

Director Claire Kilner and screenwriter Neena Beber don't walk the tightrope between comedy and drama skillfully enough to make either aspect work as well as it should.

Forgettable fun.

Woody Harrelson, Randy Quaid, and Bill Murray give riotous performances, but be warned that the comedy is overloaded with gross-out humor from beginning to end.

The movie has almost enough corny appeal to offset its lack of originality, though, and Walken is fun as Cagliostro, the court's great prognosticator and all-around weirdo.

The comedy is appealing as Hollywood's umpteenth variation on the Cinderella story, but think about its patrician views of upper-class privilege and you might find it too simplistic for comfort.

Benton builds the yarn carefully, drawing us into a web of suspense with a string of deftly timed surprises. But after a while, you get the feeling you've seen this all before. [02 Dec 1982, p.19]

Too bad the acting is uneven. And the ineptly done English subtitles will have you laughing in all the wrong places.

Salomon directed the silly but diverting action yarn, which benefits from the talents of Freeman, Quaid, Driver, and White.

I must report that Reservoir Dogs has little of intelligence to say - except for a few implicit comments on the nature of loyalty and betrayal - and that it's violent to the ponit of sadism. [5 Oct 1992]

More sugary than satisfying.

The story has possibilities, but you'll spot the big plot twists long before they happen, and the acting by Judd and Cavaziel is strictly by the numbers.

There are some novelties, like views of people surfing down sand dunes, but there's also far too much self-congratulation by surfers. Don't step into this not-so-new wave unless you're a die-hard surfing buff.

Informative, but very slow going.

The action is fast, furious, and occasionally quite funny.

There are a few good laughs, but not nearly enough clever ideas to keep things hopping for two hours.

Directed by Philip Kaufman, who pays equal attention to the literary ideas and sexual preoccupations of the characters, but generates little new understanding of either. [05 Oct 1990, p.12]

The more the picture reveals, the less interesting it gets, transforming its hero from an intriguing mystery man into a standard-issue screen vigilante -- and steadily upping the violence, complete with harrowing torture scenes, in a lame effort to keep our juices flowing.

Potter's trademark devices are all present, including the way characters burst into songs lip-synced to vintage recordings on the sound track.

There's a little humor, a little suspense, and not a hint of reality. You'll tune out quickly, unless you're 11.

The story's can-do attitude and moments of soaring music make it a must-see for moviegoers seeking positive visions on the screen.

Kevin Kline has some amusing moments, but Meg Ryan's acting runs out of energy, and Lawrence Kasdan's directing is too laid-back to help her out. [7 Jul 1995, p.13]

Less a heart-stirring historical study than a nostalgic fantasy, built on a foundation no firmer than Cruise's superstar persona.

Takes a humane look at an episode in recent history that's received little attention.

The message is plain: Men, especially rich men, have all the power. So be sure to do what they tell you, and maybe they'll treat you nicely… It's not one I like to hear. [27 Apr 1990, Arts, p.10]

This exceedingly romantic comedy begins with flair but lapses into clichés long before the sentimental (and predictable) finale.

There's something relentlessly superficial about the movie, and in one area that cries out for sensitivity - the treatment of racial differences among the characters - it falls down badly. [22 Aug 1990, Arts, p.11]

Kevin Lima's feature-length cartoon has some funny moments, but why couldn't the gang at Walt Disney Pictures provide something for girls and moms to identify with, too? [05 May 1995, p.13]

The dramatic situations aren't intense or knotty enough to match the moral issues behind them, however.

The last scenes etch one of the most revealing depictions of capital punishment ever put on the wide screen.

Ultimately more exasperating than rewarding.

The meandering story doesn't gather much momentum and Vittorio Storaro's camera work is less awesome than usual.

Nicholson's over-the-top acting gives an entertaining edge to the plot's feel-good manipulations.

Diane Keaton directed this ragged but lively comedy-drama from Richard LaGravenese's imaginative screenplay.

For most of its two-hour running time it simply flings a barrage of horrors at the audience, enhanced with the most imaginative science-fiction atmospherics this side of "Dark City," which incidentally was a far more original picture.

Written and directed by Sidney Lumet, who pushes the material so hard it loses credibility and even entertainment value after a while. [27 Apr 1990, p.10]

Wants to appear bold and liberated, but it seems awfully solemn about the subculture it explores.

The film would work better if its story unfolded more swiftly and if its twists were more unexpected. The acting is solid, though.

Along with the lapses of taste that have become standard in pictures aimed at teen audiences, filmmaker John Hughes offers moments of wit and warmth.

The package would be more enticing if it didn't fall so squarely into overused Hollywood formulas.

This comedy is as down-and-dirty as you'd expect from the Farrelly team...but more than one sequence manages to be hilarious on its own outrageously crass terms.

The performances are stronger than the movie itself. Jodie Foster shows continued growth as an actress, and her girlfriends are skillfully portrayed. [21 Mar 1980, p.15]

Polson's well-filmed thriller swims down the usual lanes for this sort of story, and everyone looks way too old for senior year; but many of the suspense scenes work fine, and Bradford is terrific as the endangered hero.

The River doesn't live up to its ambitions. [03 Jan 1985, p.27]

Mostly just another exercise in snappy editing and over-the-top mayhem that will leave most grown-up movie- goers cold.

Moderately amusing sequel, which is best when it relies on dead-pan acting by the stars, worst when it drags in summer-movie stupidities like an incessantly talking dog.

In all, the film is a striking, if flawed, achievement by a talented actor who may become an important director if he sticks to the genre that suits him best.

The story is as simple as the average football cheer, but the dialogue has amusing echoes of "Clueless," and Dunst and Bradford make a mighty cute couple.

It's always hard to predict what Winterbottom will try next, but this experiment isn't worth repeating, the lively concert scenes notwithstanding. Be forewarned that the sexual scenes aren't simulated.

Young viewers may guffaw, but seasoned fans of "There's Something About Mary" will be disappointed.

Socially committed realism and screwball comedy don't mix easily. That's the main reason that Teachers is a mess. [02 Nov 1984, p.25]

Surprisingly, this is the work of director Martin Ritt and Sally Field, the star whose Norma Rae combined sharp drama with keen social awareness. Their new film is the junky underside of that good movie. [26 Mar 1981, p.19]

It's fun to see Val Kilmer assume a sort of Young Republican look after his hippie shenanigans in "The Doors," and the story raises some important issues. But there's little else to praise in this pretentious and overlong drama. It was directed by Michael Apted, who should stick to documentaries like his recent and superb "35 Up." [3 Apr 1992, p.12]

John Schlesinger has directed Mark Frost's screenplay with great technical skill, constructing highly charged suspense scenes. Robby Muller's cinematography also stands out. The violence is disgusting even by recent standards, though, especially since much of it is aimed at children. And the portrait of a barbarous Afro-Hispanic religion will hardly ease tensions in this time when racism and xenophobia are already rampant. [12 Jun 1987, p.21]

Bond is impersonated by 007 newcomer Timothy Dalton, who does little that's identifiable as acting, although he looks the part. Come back, Sean, all is forgiven!

Judged by the standards of ordinary filmmaking, it's as strange, suggestive, and surreal as other Lynch pictures have been. Judged by the standards of Lynch's own career, however, it's amazingly stale and second-hand… [and] contains not a single moment of genuinely felt emotion. [1 Sept 1992]

If these talented people had worthwhile things to do, No Small Affair would be no small movie. But the action has many weak moments, and the subplots are trite, especially when the trendy bachelor-party scene arrives. Too bad the screenplay, by Charles Bolt and Terence Mulcahy, doesn't live up to the cast or to Vilmos Zsigmond's careful cinematography. [13 Nov 1984, p.47]

Electric Dreams tries to be as up to the minute as the latest rock video. But it looks more like a tired holdover from the ''psychedelic'' 1960s, another time when frantic visual effects were all the rage, and people rarely stopped to wonder what the point was.

This is the 10 zillionth film about a friendly-seeming villain invading a contented home, but exploitation of child abuse and baby-stealing make this one a particularly nasty business.

Lots of filmmakers, lots of opportunities, lots of bad taste, very few laughs. [25 Sept 1987, p.23]

Directed by Kathryn Bigelow with lots of dull spots, a few effectively intense moments, and as much gore as the monster genre usually calls for nowadays.

It would take a more expert director than Newman to pull the lumpy Harry & Son screenplay into shape, with its many trite scenes that can't decide whether they're funny or sad or in between. [19 Apr 1984, p.25]

Even as they've smoothed the novel's rough edges, moreover, the filmmakers have tried to cram a maximum number of its incidents into about two hours of screen time. This gives the picture a hectic pace that adds to its feeling of weightlessness and unreality. Poor casting, especially in the major roles played by Tom Hanks and Melanie Griffith, doesn't help.

Although he gave the plot real momentum on the stage, director Saks has fudged and fuzzed things by translating it so listlessly to the screen. [2 Jan 1987, p.25]

There's nothing to think about once the watery plot has run its course, and even Streep's plucky performance isn't enough to keep it steadily afloat. [30 Sep 1994, p.13]

Too bad director John Carpenter doesn't match this tantalizing premise with snappy, thoughtful filmmaking; long stretches of the movie are trite and silly.

The unchanneled energy of Robin Williams can't redeem this messy yarn.

This is a funny idea, but the movie is too thinly written to build any real credibility, and the cast rarely seems in tune with the vapid vulgarities that dominate the dialogue.

Although the first hour builds effective suspense, the story sags into a warmed-over combination of The Silence of the Lambs and both versions of Cape Fear, and the violent climax looks like it was shot in an Everglades theme park. [17 Feb 1995, p.13]

What begins as healthy skepticism in Mr. Pyne's screenplay is subjected to so many twists that it grows into sour cynicism, spread thinly over so many characters and events that it los es its impact...This isn't the first time that shallow notions of entertainment value have taken over what could have been a thought-provoking thriller. It's too bad the strengths of "White Sands" aren't parlayed into a more meaningful experience.

It's not easy to sit through the movie spawned by this notion, though, proving once again that a picture can be simultaneously high in concept and low in entertainment value. [18 July 1996]

Miss Firecracker is a movie that tries too hard. You want to like it, but in the end it just tires you out.

Stephen Fry gives a convincing performance as Oscar Wilde in this biopic based on the 1987 Richard Ellmann biography. But the film focuses less on Wilde's talents as poet and playwright and more on the breakup of his marriage and family as a result of his infatuation with Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas. [12 Jun 1998, p.B2]

Watching the filmmakers set up the situation is like watching someone build a table, one laborious hammer-blow at a time. It's not much fun to see such gifted performers as Matthew Broderick and Annabella Sciorra wrestle so valiantly with such weak material. No help comes from Kevin Anderson's overcooked acting in the obnoxious-roommate role. [30 Apr 1993, p.13]

The acting is sincere and the camera work is pretty, but this art-movie variation on "The Sixth Sense" doesn't have enough energy to fulfill the high promise of Berliner's previous picture, the enchanting "Ma vie en rose."

Used Cars is full of used characters, used ideas, and used jokes, many of which are in astonishingly bad taste.

John Hughes pours his usual slickness and sentimentality all over everything. [27 Feb 1987]

Edwards's mess isn't so fine. In trying to revive the great tradition of rough-and-tumble farce, he strains so hard for vigorous slapstick and wild gags that he forgets to be funny...In the end, there's something basically askew when a movie gives its heroes a valuable piano to move -- a classic Laurel and Hardy situation -- and then makes it an easy job, without a single teetering bridge to carry it across! Stan and Ollie, where are you when we need you?

You thought brawny Bruce Willis couldn't play a brainy psychologist? You were right. Or maybe it's the idiocy of the movie surrounding him that sinks his performance long before the halfway mark.

The stagebound setting gets boring; the action doesn't build a steady momentum; and the characters do far too much hanging around until the camera's ready to point at them again.

A second-rate adaptation of the second-rate Choderlos de Laclos novel: two hours of pretty people sitting in pretty rooms and talking about sex. [23 Dec 1988, A& L, p.19]

Scott Wilson gives a surprisingly lively performance as the apparent villain of the story, while good guys Judd Nelson and Ally Sheedy strive to out-bland each other. The action is generally vicious, vulgar, and vapid. [9 May 1986, p.25]

The Abyss' isn't abysmal, but it's a replay of hits we've already seen - a recycled "close encounters of the wet kind'' with far too few ideas of its own. [18 Aug 1989, Arts, p.10]

As before, the movie is more impressive for its finely detailed vision of Los Angeles as a futuristic slum than for its story, acting, or message. It's all downhill after the first few eye-dazzling minutes. [2 Oct 1992]

The director, Taylor Hackford, doesn't have the cinematic savvy to sustain so many tensions in a meaningful way; and the screenplay strays far over the line between incisive political comment and heavy-handed Red-baiting.

Failed comedy-drama with two intermingled plots, one about a high school boy seeking his own way in life, the other about an older woman with career and romance problems. Directed flatly and lifelessly by Randal Kleiser. [16 Aug 1984, p.31]

While the production is attractive in a calendar-photo sort of way, there's not a speck of genuine feeling in its glossy images.

The Witches of Eastwick, based on John Updike's novel, takes just about every wrong turn it can find. Perhaps this was predictable, with a wild-driving director like George Miller at the wheel. What's surprising is how many opportunities for vulgarity and stupidity the film invents for itself, even beyond the book's built-in temptations to excess. [12 June 1987, p.21]

The movie starts with insights about the need for more humane values in health care, then buries them under an avalanche of frivolities, vulgarities, and clichés.

The main performances are generally weak, although the smaller ones are sometimes brilliant, and the yarn never builds much momentum as it leapfrogs from one subplot to another. [28 Dec 1990, Arts, p.14]

Blending animation and live action, this ferocious fantasy is hopelessly vulgar in ways never dreamed of by "Who Framed Roger Rabbit."

Armageddon may sell tickets, thanks largely to a high-powered marketing machine that's been conducting its own countdown for the past several months. But it's not a pretty picture.

The combination of caveman dialogue, overcooked action, and anything-for-an-effect performances is maddeningly crude even by cop-movie standards. [22 May 1987, p.23]

In all, it's “Diner,'' female style. Directed by Donald Petrie from a blatantly manipulative screenplay that took four people to cook up. [24 Oct 1988]

Verhoeven's lurid thriller has moments of welcome self-parody, but most of the action manages to be sensationalistic, homophobic, and tedious at the same time. [20 Mar 1992, Arts, p.12]

The message of the film is that life isn't neat and predictable like a well-arranged business trip; yet everything in the picture is so calculated that there's no life to it. [23 Dec 1988, A& L, p.19]

Humans, it seems, weren't meant to tamper with some things. This picture makes you wonder if cinema is one of them. [14 Nov 1986, p.27]

The plot isn't scary, but the low level of filmmaking will have you shivering in your seat. [13 Jul 1988, p.19]

Amiably bland actors can be fun to watch, as Tom Hanks has proved. Freeman is no Hanks, though, and The Hitchhiker's Guide won't boost anyone's career into hyperspace. Or give your mind a workout.

The movie is a mish-mash of action-adventure clichés, book-ended with lame attempts at psychological interest. Written, directed, and acted with ham-fisted heaviness.

Like the recent "Mona Lisa Smile," this tale could have been an effective feminist fable if it weren't so calculated.

Bataille was a serious philosopher as well as a sensation-seeking writer, but you'd never guess his provocative ideas from this updated version.

By the time it ended, I'd stopped caring. I suspect most moviegoers will do the same. Here's hoping Shelton scurries back to the athletic world in a hurry.

At 225 minutes long, it feels like a trilogy in itself. That wouldn't be a problem if it had energy and imagination, but those qualities are missing, as is any sense of historical or philosophical context.

The consequences aren't remotely as comic as they're meant to be.

The story takes place in 2013, but you'd hardly know it from the age-old clichés Kevin Costner purloins to tell this overblown action yarn, which relies so heavily on ideas borrowed from John Ford westerns that the Hollywood giant should have been credited as codirector; too bad Costner can't invest them with Ford's kind of life and originality, though.

The infuriating thing about XXX isn't that it delivers thrills and spills to moviegoers who don't know any better, but that its Hollywood hype reinforces the notion that brain-dead entertainment is what movies are all about.

Daft, excessive, boring.

It's picaresque, all right, but full of ethnic stereotypes, and filmed much too blandly to compete with the superb ''Black Stallion'' of a few years ago.

De Niro and Hoffman almost give comic life to this brainless, vulgar farce.

Most of the characters are one-dimensional, and Avary's over-the-top directing doesn't make them interesting for more than a few isolated moments.

Was this spiritless stuff really directed by Paul and Chris Weitz of "American Pie" fame? How the rebels have mellowed!

The plot is a shameless plea for vigilante violence, and the dignity of the black hero is outweighed by the ethnically marked evil of his Hispanic antagonist. Beneath its crisp veneer, much of the movie is a high-energy hymn to hate.

Lachow goes for cuteness and whimsy every chance he gets, missing a lot more often than he hits.

The picture goes for sentimentality rather than substance every chance it gets, and the cast falls right into its syrupy trap.

Stoner jokes, awful gags, and just stupid stuff equate to one bad movie.

The movie means well, but neither its emotions nor its performances ring very true.

Fans of unregenerate underground moviemaking will have a ball.

The acting ranges from adequate (Jared Leto, R. Lee Ermey) to awful (Lindsay Crouse and everyone else).

Everyone tries very hard to make the story sweet and funny, but the soggy screenplay defeats them every time.

Falls flat on screen, weighed down by far-fetched plot twists.

The satire is intermittently amusing, but Arcand adds little to the arsenal of standard mockumentary tricks, and the interesting cast doesn't get many interesting things to do.

The story is a string of sub-Scorsese clichés, and if engaging actors like Malkovich and Hopper seem to be sleepwalking through their roles, imagine how unwatchable Diesel manages to be.

The picture's real interest lies in detailing the villain's sadistic crimes, though, and this is rarely fun or edifying to watch.

As soon as I finish writing this review, I'm going to try traveling a few hours in the past. That way, I can improve my life by skipping this movie!

The movie is gorgeously filmed and contains some fascinating lore about life in northern climes. But the plot is tritely predictable and far-fetched. Julia Ormond, Gabriel Byrne, and Vanessa Redgrave are among the performers who deliver less than their best.

The acting is uneven and most of the romancing seems so mismatched.

Labors mightily to be a frolicsome entertainment, but the results are - well, labored. The dialogue isn't snappy, the story isn't surprising, there's little chemistry between the stars.

Larry and Andy Wachowski directed this lurid, sexually explicit thriller.

Luc Besson's screenplay is dumb, but has just enough weird touches to give occasional glimmers of interest.

What really hurts is the movie's shallow screenwriting, self-indulgent acting, and woozy camerawork.

The first Revenge of the Nerds was a pretty stupid movie. But it was partly redeemed by its genuine affection for the nerds themselves - it made us like them a lot, and you couldn't help feeling good when they came out on top. Nerds in Paradise is also a stupid movie, with more than its share of cheap vulgarity, and it doesn't do so well at making the heroes really lovable.

If you want a movie time trip, the 1960 version is a far smoother ride.

Tennant's featherweight comedy is clearly pitched at the date-movie crowd, and couples may enjoy it if they can get past the picture's simplistic ethnic stereotypes and its willingness to wish away every real-life family problem the characters will surely face after the feel-good finale.

The suspense sequences are straight from the standard Hollywood blueprint, and the movie as a whole is so sloppily assembled that it's almost incoherent at times.

Movie stars have tamed sassy kids in movies from "The Blackboard Jungle" to "Stand and Deliver," but it's hard to remember an example more patronizing or sentimentalized than this one.

If a mildly magical story is what you're after, it'll be worth the price of admission. Otherwise save your milk money for something more substantial.

Unoriginal.

Dull despite its suspense-driven story.

Four chuckles and a lively final-credits sequence are a mighty poor score for 99 minutes of alleged comedy, and the sentimental stuff is even worse.

How could such a high-octane cast produce such low-octane horror?

The movie's most original features are the awfulness of the dialogue and the hamminess of Richard Jordan's performance as a Nazilike policeman. He seems to have given up on the project long before director Alan Johnson ran out of film. [28 Nov 1986, p.39]

Rarely have Gibson's tears seemed more fictional than in this supposedly authentic account of a historical event that's far too tragic to merit such superficial treatment.

Eventually you realize the whole movie has been about young showoffs who think it's uproarious to gross out neighborhood grownups.

Carpenter pulls out all the action-adventure stops, but he and coscripter Larry Sulkis forgot to write dialogue the audience could listen to without howling in disbelief.

The animation is deft but the screenplay is stilted, the voice-performances are unimaginative, and the whole project is surprisingly clumsy in its efforts to please young and old alike. A major disappointment.

Not even veteran talents like Dukakis and Scheider can surmount the artificial dialogue, arbitrary plot twists, and wan humor of this disappointing comedy-drama.

Too bad (Arnold) can't save the movie from it's superstitious clap-trap, sadistic violence, and sheer silliness.

The picture is effectively made, but viewers will want to erase the horrific violence that erupts in scene after scene, leading to an unusually mean-spirited finale.

How did a dignified pro like Duvall get stuck in this fender-bender?

Hal Hartley's innovative comedy-drama is more ambitious than successful, but it deserves credit for trying something genuinely unusual.

Suffers from a lack of chemistry.

Shots of blood and naked bodies clash bizarrely with Coppola's more quaint and engaging notions; the result may be intended as a dialectical encounter, but seems more like a head-on collision.

Great premise, but the ensuing trials and tribulations - not to mention hapless attempts at comedy - are as off-key as a karaoke scene in which Hudson sounds worse than any audition Simon Cowell has ever had to sit through.

The blend of live action and animation is competently done, but the subtly mean-spirited screenplay has more sour meows than hearty laughs.

The film has enough wild driving to satisfy any "French Connection" fan or "Bullitt" buff, but there's precious little for anyone else to enjoy. 2 foolish + 2 flashy = 4 get it!

Almost entirely devoted to combat violence and sentimental interludes.

In short, this movie is exactly the kind of starry-eyed escapist fantasy that Dr. Powell suspects Prot of having. It's harmless enough, since we can be cured just by leaving the theater.

I doubt if the results would have satisfied Kahlo, whose originality in matters of life, art, and ideas was vastly more far-reaching.

Rarely has a film poured so much energy into generating fiery emotions, yet remained so icy cold in its effect...Revolution has been dazzlingly shot by cinematographer Bernard Lutic in a process called System 35, but so much visual grandeur seems more embarrassing than engaging when the dramatic element is such a mess.

Nicolas Cage, Ving Rhames, and Steve Buscemi are among the few performers who emerge with a shred of dignity at the end.

Whatever novelty this series ever possessed has gone down the proverbial tube. The actors are on autopilot, and Adam Herz's screenplay panders to its immature target audience so cravenly and relentlessly that it verges on incompetence.

This low-budget drama tries very hard to convey messages of tolerance and compassion, but it's too weakly acted and directed to have much impact.

The problem with Possession isn't that it's filmed in a lackluster way, but that it shouldn't have been filmed at all. Byatt's novel is an adventure in language, telling its story through a kaleidoscopic array of Victorian-style poetry and prose, alongside gripping accounts of the characters' activities and escapades.

Serial killing and other insanity in the French countryside, with ineptly dubbed English dialogue.

The kind of comedy that aims at "edginess" and "sassiness" without managing to be edgy or sassy for a second.

Some scenes paint a convincing portrait of Stern as a witty opponent of stuffiness, prudery, and hypocrisy. Others mix gross-out humor with nasty doses of racism, sexism, and homophobia that reveal a dark side to Stern's professional personality.

A few mildly amusing gags don't outweigh the trite situations and mean-spirited attitude of this comedy.

This belated "reimagining" is as beguiling as a dried-out palm tree.

It has a degree of sociological interest, but it would be more effective if the material were shaped into a more coherent form.

A director of Frankenheimer's stature deserves less sensationalistic material, and so does his audience.

Even MacLachlan's surprisingly witty performance can't compensate for the trite screenplay and Mistry's lack of charisma.

A romantic comedy-drama has to make sense, though, and Love Actually doesn't, actually.

Repetitious teen-targeted fluff.

Action freaks may enjoy the chasing and chomping, but there's no hint of human interest or moviemaking imagination.

Poor writing and directing are the culprits - and whatever possessed the gifted Moore to make her role a nonstop Diane Keaton imitation? There oughta be a law!

Goldmember comes after years of escalating vulgarity have thrown the need for caution -- and cleverness -- out of fashion.

There's nothing special about this movie -- it's just business as usual for today's debased action-movie genre.

Add a megadose of bombastic James Horner music and a perfunctory love-affair subplot and you have a movie that's its own worst enemy.

The film is as tricky and superficial as its low-life characters, using visual flimflam to mask its lack of substance.

An interesting cast is wasted in this misanthropic thriller.

It soon gets down to its real business: fights, face-offs, and showdowns mired in the shallowest sort of Hollywood machismo.

For a movie about people with hugely complicated inner lives, this sadly unconvincing drama stays resolutely on the surface, rarely hinting at anything like an insight or idea.

It's hard to enjoy this when you're barraged by bathroom humor, animal stunts, and gags about a character whose memory loss is so bad he's called Ten-Second Tom.