Elizabeth Weitzman

It's a slow time at the cineplex, and the sinister scares served up by Brad Anderson are just spooky enough to freak out undemanding horror fans.

At its best moments, the film offers a tender portrait of the park's youngest regulars, charmingly earnest performers from a nearby music school. But then, inevitably, their stories fade into a backdrop, as his camera turns to catch yet more women sunning in the square.

As a low-cost baby-sitter, this high-energy sequel definitely does the trick.

Quale has brought this anemic franchise back to life, with an unexpected infusion of humor and energy.

On the bright side, Ivan Reitman's disappointing new comedy isn't just cheap and formulaic, but so forgettable few people will even remember she (Portman) was in it.

Americans, for better or worse, have already seen plenty of budget-busting action flicks with half-baked political pretensions.

Woven amid the glib one-liners and contrived scenarios is an unexpected, and undeniably touching, sense of heart.

Scott, Winstead and Howard are charming, while Poehler, O’Hara and Jenkins have a grand time bickering. Since Zicherman doesn’t ask much of us in the first place, they make it easy enough to commit.

For her debut drama, Song One, filmmaker Kate Barker-Froyland snares Anne Hathaway. It’s a stroke of luck. Hathaway’s doe-eyed sincerity provides just enough weight to keep this sweet but slight romance from floating away.

"This is a woman's trip," it is announced in Tyler Perry's For Colored Girls, and how you respond to those words will likely determine how you respond to the film itself.

Director Ryan Murphy achieved a major casting coup in landing Julia Roberts to play Gilbert - or Liz, as she's called here. As it turns out, though, a lesser star may have been a better choice.

With a few exceptions, the Indian characters are two-dimensional buffoons whose traditions are presented as silly quirks meant for cheap laughs.

Geraghty relies too heavily on facial expressions and mannerisms, but those who appreciate visible effort may be seduced. There's no denying he works hard to keep us on the line.

Even the food - usually the centerpiece of a restaurant movie - is oddly uninspired. Despite Zeta-Jones' best efforts, barely a moment here feels organic, or fresh.

The movie tends to wander between story lines and characters without any real sense of purpose.

If "Up" is the animated equivalent of an ice cream sundae, Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs is the Popsicle: Neither as rich nor as memorable, but more than welcome on a long, hot summer day.

We see brief, graphic shots of naked actors performing sexual acts. But it’s the conversations about what those depictions represent that truly provoke.

A small-scale mess.

Despite a somewhat unpolished look and a few slips into cliche, the film makes up in sincerity what it lacks in sophistication.

Perhaps less-sophisticated preteens won't notice the amateurish acting, clunky direction and heavy-handed tenor of the lessons.

An excellent Keener commits reliably to the role and does give us moments worth savoring. But the underwritten script and misguided direction leave her stranded.

He definitely needs more experience, but writer/director Jake Goldberger displays an appealingly skewed sense of humor in his noir debut.

The heart of the film is the touching relationship between two lonely souls. The lovely, feisty chemistry between Rowlands and Jackson will keep even the most cynical viewers on their toes.

Smart, spiky comedy upends every traditional notion of love, sex and family.

Stooping to low-rent laffs By ELIZABETH WEITZMAN SPECIAL TO THE NEWS Ben Stiller, Drew Barrymore & Eileen Essel (on floor) DUPLEX. With Ben Stiller, Drew Barrymore. Directed by Danny DeVito. Running time: 88 mins. Rated PG-13: Slapstick violence, gross-out humor. There are people who can look at a creaky, crumbling house and home right in on the solid framework and fabulous fireplace. In "Duplex," Ben Stiller is the fireplace. As for the structure, well, this rather rickety comedy boasts a solid base, though sadly, too much of it has been plastered over with moldy jokes and leaky plot devices.

Knightley and Canet make a far more compelling pair. As they wander through the city after hours, doing nothing more than talking, they generate the kind of romantic heat that's all too rare onscreen.

While the actors are appealing, their weirdly co-dependent characters aren't. And they don't learn enough to balance out the bland, intermittently irritating nature of their adventures.

Jennifer Aniston and Steve Zahn? Who thought that would be a good match? So it's to everyone's ­credit that by the time the ­movie is over, you'll wonder why they were never paired together before.

It's a formula, all right, but a strong cast goes a long way toward carrying it off. We get one, for the most part, in Alfredo De Villa's cheerfully familiar dramedy.

This is not a film for the impatient. But director Aparna Sen finds the poetry in romantic restraint, which is a mighty rare resource these days.

Though he plays two other roles, Perry only really cuts loose when he dons Madea's housecoat, turning her into a devilishly funny voice of reason. Likewise, the movie tenses up when she's offscreen, becoming the sort of moralistic soap opera we've seen from Perry before.

Anthony Byrne's lazy drama is insulting to just about everyone, including Maeve Binchy, who wrote the short story on which it was based. But nobody fares well, especially cast members Vanessa Redgrave, Brenda Fricker and Imelda Staunton.

As with so many message movies, this one trades ­nuance for naked outrage. The filmmakers'heartfelt intent is admirable, but right now they’re competing with a more compellingly told reality.

The movie's considerable problems are not the fault of its dedicated star, Nicole Kidman. She does her job beautifully - which, come to think of it, may be something of a problem after all.

Proyas creates an engaging, high-octane energy, boosted by an up-for-anything cast.

García Bernal's irrepressible charm provides a burst of welcome energy with each brief appearance.

A sassy script and good-natured voice work from Benedict Cumberbatch and John Malkovich should keep kids and grownups entertained over the holidays.

It's easy to see the potential in Lottery Ticket, which boasts an entertaining idea and a game cast. But you only win big if every number hits.

The Ten is so proud of its own wit and irreverence that when you fail to be equally impressed, you are likely to wonder if your own sense of humor is, in some way, deficient. Rest assured it is not.

It’s McCarthy’s complex use of language, rather than the plot’s grueling imagery, that elevate the book. There’s simply not enough insight here to make the punishment worthwhile.

Unabashedly earnest, completely predictable and packed with enough high-voltage dance scenes to make any audience applaud.

Alas, the split-screen compositions, slow-motion effects, pensive closeups and prosthetic teeth can’t distract from what’s missing: Faulkner’s pointed but deeply buried observations of the human condition.

Day's primary mistake is an occasional attempt to get serious. With a deft comic touch and a topic that's still timely, he doesn't need to play it straight.

For a while, Leterrier does manage to conjure up a little bit of magic between all these charming actors. And then, presto: Just like that, it’s gone.

Chadwick builds a brisk pace and sweeping scope that initially grab our interest. But this Anne's sole motivations are sex and greed, and the wild rumors that were designed to destroy her are treated here as gospel.

McAvoy is unerringly charming as Rory, a man who quickly discerns and dismisses well-meaning condescension. So one can't help wondering what he would think of this film, whose sentimentality comes across as smug.

The pacing is so tedious and the action so unexciting that it's a real thrill when J.K. Simmons shows up as a wry alien expert — and a huge disappointment when he disappears a few minutes later.

As a mainstream slasher remake, Black Christmas is bound to be judged a letdown. But Takal’s aims are more subversive. And thanks to her, there’s now a bonkers deconstruction of a mainstream slasher remake hiding in plain sight.

A tacky 'Fatal Attraction' for the lesbian set.

A disappointing retread of a bunch of better movies.

Just slightly funnier than you'd expect, this dashed-off teen comedy cribs from a thousand other movies, without coming up with anything original of its own.

Subtlety has never been Perry's strength, but his previous films balanced the sermonizing with good humor and sincerity. Perhaps next time, he'll ease up on the lectures, and bring back the love.

Less a documentary than an unshaped document, this haphazard collection of interviews with Iraqi insurgents is both enlightening and frustrating.

Boasts an unusually strong cast of actors, who boost the slick screenplay into a satisfying popcorn picture.

Doomsday views are a knockout, but the script is a real disaster.

The title may suggest acts of indecency, but if there’s anything this mild dramedy could use, it’s a little more raciness.

If aesthetics are a prime factor in your movie choices, you may get something out of Ann Hu's overwrought, but beautifully atmospheric, period romance.

Although this ­satire of Hollywood inanity isn't the comic ­classic it could have been, Downey's gonzo performance is a must-see.

What a letdown it is to see this spellbinding, era-defining story tamed into such stodgy submission.

Anyone who actually adores New York is unlikely to appreciate this disappointingly bland collection of shorts, which might as well have been called "Madrid, Te Amo" or "Cincinnati, You're the Best."

But with Kerouac declaring that “the only thing that matters is the conceptions in my own mind,” we’re still left waiting for the filmmaker who can take us there.

There is no urgency, and little honesty, to the convoluted goings-on unfolding here.

The movie eventually chokes on its own pretensions.

All the Benji productions have had a high corn content, but in this one, even the corn is cheap.

Something has surely gone wrong when there is not a single moment in Ice Age: Continental Drift that equals the four-minute "Simpsons" short that precedes it.

There's a great idea here, but it's buried within a muddled story that lurches between dark comedy and maudlin drama.

Even lousy adaptations have worth, if they attract attention to little-seen originals.

Ever been on a blind date that you knew would be dismal from the start? Well, this is the movie version of that date, stretched out over the slowest two hours imaginable.

Manages to tackle some serious issues without sacrificing its inherently sweet nature.

None of the seven shorts here is worth a single, well-made feature. But there are a few amusing moments to be found.

Austrian director Michael Sturminger's debut feature creates a visually evocative environment in which to explore some significant themes, from religious repression to Freudian guilt.

With costumes taking precedence over character, the movie ultimately seems more concerned with atmosphere than action.

At least it's as sweet as it is superficial.

My 3-year-old date had a fine time, pronouncing the movie "very good" and backing up her assessment by going 90 minutes with barely a fidget. Which may actually be the highest compliment any movie can ask for.

The Buis seem not to have complete confidence in their unique, imprecise style, which is too bad.

Takashi is a master of the jagged quick cut and the shocker finish, and his head-spinning story is pumped up with almost more bravado than a single screen can handle.

It’s not easy to play twins (in another language, no less), without relying on showy mannerisms to define them. But Mortensen pulls it off. Your move, Franco.

A limited amount of original footage -- awkwardly enhanced with reenactments -- gives the film a somewhat narrow focus. But in a way, the dry tone fits.

Writer-director Carter Smith got his start as a successful fashion photographer. But you wouldn’t know it from the murky look of this generic thriller.

Though it can't quite transcend its filmmaker's earnest intentions, this solemn history lesson offers several powerful moments.

The problem is, Shiva found so many inspirational moments that she wasn't able to edit them into proper focus. As a result, the movie jumps from scene to scene, too scattered to make a strong connection with anything, or anyone, in particular.

It's a bad idea to get too fond of any character, no matter how worthy he (or she) may appear.

Given that so many people have dismissed Ashton Kutcher as a superficial pretty boy, it seems a little ironic that his best work this week is two-dimensional: He makes a passable action hero in "The Guardian," but he's downright adorable in Open Season, a cheerful animated comedy built on his winningly loose voice performance.

Don't be fooled by the indie trappings: despite its downtown vibe, Lola Versus is as clichéd as any Hollywood rom-com.

Though it has a familiar inevitability, the journey is generally compelling, thanks to fierce battles, a gorgeous landscape and heartfelt performances.

The magic simply isn't there.

A darkly comic underachiever that manages to charm almost in spite of itself, Ruben Fleischer's 30 Minutes or Less is probably best watched as it was made: without much evident effort. In other words, wait until it hits DVD, order a pizza and Netflix it.

The script is basically a retread of every other AARP comedy, from "Grumpy Old Men" to "Wild Hogs." The laughs, in other words, are of the Viagra and kidney stone variety.

Calculated Belgian crowd-pleaser.

Though it remains a little too enigmatic, Marek Najbrt's Holocaust drama is atmospheric enough to keep us edgy on its heroine's behalf.

Without Ewan McGregor in the lead, this flashy but aggressively superficial Aussie thriller would likely disappear without a trace.

There have been so many movies about aspiring superheroes in recent years, they practically constitute their own genre. Though hardly ground-breaking, this whimsical Australian entry is just endearing enough to stand out from the pack.

A lovely, almost painfully intimate story of female bonding that never panders to its characters or its audience.

Most impressive: the striking vibrancy of the animation. This is the rare movie that earns the extra cost of 3-D glasses.

You may want to wait and watch "Never Land" the way it was meant to be seen -- as a straight-to-video baby-sitter.

A great idea that never gets off the ground.

The beautiful black-and-white photography - and disappointingly sappy ending - are the only remotely sober elements here, thanks to Besson's loopy script and Debbouze's very funny turn as a loser who simply can't believe his luck.

Jakubowicz successfully portrays a country corrupted beyond repair by financial inequality. But the sadism that drives the story is so gleefully nasty, it overshadows any rational arguments he's trying to make.

The cartoonish characters and outsize performances don't make a smooth transition from stage to screen.

It's a shame, though, that the movie also features stereotyped or retrograde attitudes towards Jewish, gay, and female characters. Perhaps Van Peebles' kids could school their dad on the virtues of across-the-board respect.

Though all the elements are in place, there's not much magic to be found in Death Defying Acts, an intermittently entertaining but surprisingly modest romance from Gillian Armstrong.

Does little more than re-create the oppressive feeling of suffocating employment. And why put yourself through that experience without the promise of a paycheck at the other end?

Just like its increasingly wan antihero, this blood-soaked series is on its last legs.

Too bad this would-be heir, Divergent, is so unimaginative and bland.

Rae does offer a riveting introduction to the American Indian civil rights movement.

Early potential fizzles away too quickly in this underachieving buddy comedy, which just barely skids along on the charm of its co-stars.

The story has heat, even if the movie is more entranced with its subjects than in what they're trying to achieve.

There are too many overwritten moments designed solely to make the movie more interesting -- when, in fact, they undercut the low-key relatability that serves as its strongest asset.

Goldberger's stubbornly insular script - adapted from a novel by Harry Crews - might have fared better on stage, where the story would feel more contained than suffocating. But by the time you crawl across this finish line, you'll know just how those sluggish the birdsfeel.

Colman does her absolute best to counter a scenario that manages to be both strangely off-putting and patly predictable, by shaping up a tartly unsentimental turn.

We have little to hang onto once the film falls apart. Between the ongoing sermonizing and that final, sharp shock - which is gravely mishandled - we feel cowed into submission, rather than led towards enlightenment.

In general, movies made by improv comedy groups are hit or miss. And this one, from the Upright Citizens Brigade, misses a whole lot more than it hits.

A cheerleader spoof that starts rousingly, but ends up nearly as shallow as its easy-target subjects.

Oddly, almost unrelentingly, grim.

The movie’s biggest strength is its balance between mordant humor and psychological fear.

The early scenes are flashy fun, and Sturgess (handsome Jude in "Across the Universe") makes a convincing math geek. But the requisite romance and Hollywood-style ending feel as fake as the air allegedly pumped into casinos to revive flagging players

Does have a sort of endearing, earnest charm. But it would take much more than good intentions to save a film that rehashes cliches and concepts so unabashedly.

It's so cheerfully cheesy, you can't help but be amused.

Won't replace anyone's annual viewing of "It's a Wonderful Life." But your family could find a worse way to take a holiday break.

Bell’s skepticism feels real, and Brody, still best known as “The OC’s” insecure Seth Cohen, is perfect as the sort of arrogantly self-deluded player we’ve all met.

Danluck (“North of South, West of East”) gets us halfway there, with a solid cast and crew, an apt depiction of emotional exhaustion, and a heroine we want to root for in a strange setting we’re ready to embrace. But she floats too ineffectually between dream and nightmare, never settling on one or committing to the other.

Have we come a long way since Wright's world was upended because he spoke undeniable truths? Watch this essential American story, and decide for yourself.

None of it makes any sense, but it is just nutty enough to provide a few (entirely unintended) laughs.

While some documentaries are broad enough in theme and creative enough in style to attract a wide-ranging audience, others remain best-suited to a smaller group of devotees. Such is the case for Peter Rosen's biography of violinist Jascha Heifetz.

Despite the overlong running time, the action moves smoothly and swiftly.

A sweet, if slender, surprise.

A visually lavish but somewhat sterile adaptation.

It's hard to escape the feeling that what Zach Helm's directorial debut really wants to be is "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." But where Roald Dahl's story was brilliantly eccentric and respectfully unsentimental, Helm's is heavy with strained zaniness and hazy morality.

Some of the shocks are way too broad, and the enclosed perspective suggests the material would better suit a play. But Crawford radiates charisma, and Pierce sells even the nuttiest moments.

Both Tatum and Dewan know how to move, and their co-stars (including musicians Mario and Drew Sidora) are equally gifted.

Looking for plot holes? You can't miss them. But if you go in hoping for a good time, you'll find that, too.

An endearing premise and fanciful spirit aren't quite enough to rescue a film that has more heart than smarts.

Despite catchy animation and a few intense scenes, there's simply nothing here we haven't seen before.

The entire cast is fully committed to this squishily sentimental tale, which is especially impressive given that it's the kind of generic dramedy you'll swear you've seen a thousand times before.

The movie doesn’t weave religion into the familiar structure of a comedy or melodrama. Instead, everything works in service to the sermon at the core. For most audience members, that will either be the primary draw or an inescapable drawback.

Never quite knows where it's going - which is especially frustrating, since it takes such a long and painful path to get there.

Though Mann and Perry are game, it's Efron who carries the movie.

Co-stars Parker Posey and Chris Kattan offer minor diversions, but the humor never rises to the quality any New Yorker, regardless of sexual orientation, would expect.

It's impossible to guess why Bullock was ever attracted to this insulting role, and the eternally confident Reynolds is miscast as a young, bullied underling.

This isn’t the sort of movie that defines anyone’s career, as “Sling Blade” once did. But in an industry averse to risk, passion projects — even uneven ones — are always welcome.

A palpable sense of environment and strong performances from Noah Wyle and musician Steve Earle can’t balance the extensive flaws in this unconvincing Appalachian melodrama.

Like 2003's "Lizzie McGuire" movie, "Hannah" breaks little new ground but makes the big screen shift with liveliness and sense of humor impressively intact.

Bertino does an excellent job building dread, especially during the first half of the movie. Every silence, pause and sudden noise startles - and the results, frankly, are more frightening than the graphic torture scenes in movies like "Hostel" and "Saw."

You don't even have to be familiar with the first book in Rick Riordan's popular fantasy series to enjoy Chris Columbus' energetic adaptation.

Like its underachieving protagonist, Steve Pink's teen comedy Accepted flashes just enough charm to get by but is too lazy to really make anything of itself.

This is not a great comedy, but it has some honest laughs, a few touching moments.

The film moves briskly enough to be entertaining, but it can't escape the smothering hero worship that Sheridan infuses into every frame.

The Box is its own kind of awful, a disconnected mess that never finds its reason for being.

The full title of this animé import is WXIII (Patlabor the Movie 3), and if you think the name's confusing, you may want to spare yourself the work of figuring out the film itself.

John Greyson and Jack Lewis' experimental drama, about two prisoners who have a dangerous affair, is a challenging, flawed look at a little-known slice of history.

Yes, that's an impressive collection of actors. And yes, it's deflating to watch them wandering in and out of half-written scenes with no discernable direction.

Despite its desperate attempts to appeal to every possible age group, there is no obvious audience for this movie.

Barely makes the grade in either humor or provocation.

Roth prefers sentimentality to subtlety and cutesiness to complexity. Fortunately, Molina balances Port's precocity, bringing a welcome gravitas to this simply told tale.

Built on an amusing idea that can't quite support an entire movie, Wayne Price's comedic debut might have made a terrific short.

Christian infuses this familiar story with gentle empathy, which goes a long way in balancing out the more amateurish choices.

This tactic, and the film's valid but familiar arguments, might have been fleshed out with better results onstage.

The truth about Lies is that it's a case of art-house porn being more porn than art.

Sure, sometimes it's fun to be assaulted by sequins, wigs, corsets and retro homage. But Xtina's fans can find all that already - in videos ranging from "Lady Marmalade" to "Ain't No Other Man" - without having to sit through two hours of recycled plots and plastic acting.

Posner paints in pretty broad strokes. The movie is studded with convenient coincidences and obvious observations. But he has also put together a nicely polished production that shines with an almost earnest charm.

Come to think of it, 84 minutes isn't much of a sacrifice for a few laughs, even if the material is almost as hit-or-miss as our heroes' shooting skills.

Fast-paced, funny, and packed with – to indulge in a bit of ad-speak — eye-popping action.

Friedlander offers a nicely subtle performance, but the other actors - including Alan Cumming, Deborah Harry and Amy Sedaris - appear to have turned up as a favor to the director. Don't feel obliged to follow their lead.

It’s tough to get invested in a romance between two people more interested in likes than love.

Marsden's natural charisma is totally wasted in an unlikable role, while Burns doesn't even try to hide his boredom.

Like the homeless kids at its center, Alison Murray's feature debut is passionate, angry and suffering from a serious lack of discipline.

To her credit, director Martha Coolidge has crafted a fairy-tale ending that is both old-fashioned and newfangled, allowing her heroine to have it all. But despite a few magic moments, the rest of the film feels stale.

Just like the can-do VW Beetle of the title, Herbie: Fully Loaded succeeds adorably despite the obstacles in its path.

There's nothing in director Ryan Piers Williams' script that elevates this film above others with similar themes. But his heartfelt approach can be seen in the committed cast -- led by O'Nan but also including ­Valderrama, whose quietly ­authentic work is a nice surprise.

The criterion couldn't be simpler: does a 20-minute martial arts battle featuring Thai superstar Tony Jaa sound like the ideal way to spend your time and money? If not, move on.

If you take The Alto Knights on its own terms – as an eccentric but engaging curio – there’s still plenty of fun to be had.

Rock of Ages is an experience that will alternately leave you embarrassed and amused.

Overall, the whole project feels weirdly empty and off-puttingly self-congratulatory, as though the very idea of turning women into action heroes is revolutionary.

The truth is, the mystery pales next to the best "X-Files" plots. But fans will appreciate sly references to past episodes, an unexpected appearance from an old friend and the still-poignant bond our heroes share.

With its cash-flashing men and dirty-talking women, the movie already feels dated. But it wouldn't have been much fun five years ago, either.

A mediocre movie that will be wiped from its stars' résumés with head-spinning speed.

With so little action or even insight, Marathon is far too long at only 74 minutes. Perhaps for the sequel, we can come along as Gretchen watches paint dry.

Although little Timothy does arrive in unusual circumstances, his story will feel familiar to anyone who's encountered Hollywood's particular brand of calculated sentimentality.

There's no one to root for but the loan shark, who makes an excellent point: It's no fun when somebody takes your cash and gives you nothing in return.

Only slightly less awkward than its young protagonists, Todd Stephens' earnest coming-of-age drama is able to coast a long way on two engaging performances and some endearing moments.

Most of the supporting cast (including Daphne Rubin-Vega and Michael Jai White) underwhelms. Still, Palladino is a strong lead, and there's no denying the film's emotional core.

Both in name and spirit, The A-Team drags the Eighties into the 21st century, and you might be surprised to find -- if only briefly -- that you've missed them just a little.

And though Samantha is written as a sly spoof of Ashlee Simpson, Faris frantically overplays her. She might have taken a tip from Smart, a lovely, understated actress who wastes too much time in lousy films.

Could easily be just another episode of "Hey Arnold!" the TV show. Except that it's three times as long, and not half as much fun.

What do we do about a movie that is half compelling and half unwatchable? Director Charlie Stratton seems to be onto something at the start of his period drama In Secret. Then it all slips through his fingers.

Gaël Morel's intermittently poignant study in familial discord isn't quite substantive enough to support its histrionic tendencies.

An exhausting combination of generic thriller, political tract and sentimental weepie.

There are some light chuckles to be had, but considering its promising parentage, this is surprisingly soft stuff.

Franco’s rather flat narration doesn’t do justice to Crane’s verse, but he is a charismatic onscreen presence.

Roehler aims scattershot barbs at so many targets, from political hypocrisy to suburban entitlement, that he often misses. But whenever he takes the time to line up his toxic arrows, usually with the help of a compellingly squirmy Bleibtreu, he hits the bull's-eye.

The biggest problem, however, is the way Zhang romanticizes the unimaginably awful, turning gold-hearted prostitutes and virginal orphans into cinematic martyrs. Though his talents are vast, there may be too much truth in this particular story to suit his extravagant tastes.

Starts strongly and is bolstered by thoughtful performances.

While softening Geisel's darker themes, they still meld a valuable message into catchy songs, bright images (nicely done in 3D) and funny characters.

Even the actors seem disconnected, with only Leighton Meester - who has the most to prove - working to create a distinguishable character.

A popcorn movie has one goal, and that's to entertain. Immortals meets this criteria handily, and serves as a splendid spectacle besides.

Plays strictly to formula, the only real surprise is its apparently ironic title.

There’s a potentially fascinating series waiting to be mined here, even if it is buried beneath bland visuals and a pedestrian script on the big-screen.

No one will accuse The Ringer of being tasteful, but when you're not laughing, you may find yourself genuinely touched.

It must be said that everyone - including Dominic West and Rosamund Pike -- works awfully hard to entertain us. But that just makes it all the more depressing when joke after joke falls painfully flat. Stay home and introduce your kids to Mr. Bean, instead.

Enthusiasm carries the day in this paint-by-numbers period tale, which is just charming enough to coast on its own clichés.

He may be a first-time feature ­director, but music video master Benny Boom clearly knows how to pull a midlevel movie ­together.

An only intermittently amusing genre parody.

The movie may critique its antihero, but it also offers just one more venue in which he's allowed to wallow - while we pay his way.

Brooks' shallow screenplay feels half-finished, and he never compensates with additional guidance or directorial flair. So all his actors are forced to flail about ineffectually. Apparently, none of them read the script in advance. Because surely then they'd have known to take a pass.

While the sequel isn't as unrelentingly gory as the original, there are still rivers of blood.

It's interesting in the same way the early, rejection episodes of "American Idol" are oddly compelling. But, of course, you can watch those for free.

The movie is designed not to explore the experience of illness, or first love, or adolescence, but merely to make us swoon, sigh, and sob.

Like a lemon that's been tricked out with a fancy paint job, Fast & Furious won't stand up to much scrutiny under the hood.

In truth, Musical Chairs is so simplistic it almost feels like a first film.

Credit goes to director Sam Taylor-Johnson and her screenwriter, Kelly Marcel, who've stripped the first book of its biggest flaws, while still honoring its essence. And lead Dakota Johnson makes for an ideal heroine, though — as doubters feared — her chemistry with costar Jamie Dornan doesn't always sizzle.

Unfortunately, though, the leads — both of whom radiate individual charisma — are entirely lacking in chemistry. And it’s not just them. There is little connection between anyone, or even any event, in a project that takes all its assets for granted.

You may not subscribe to the film's evangelical message, but you'll be floored by the extraordinary musical scenes, which lead up to a showstopper featuring gospel superstars like Donnie McClurkin and Yolanda Adams.

Lawrence's co-stars are more than ready to provide salty humor while creating a loose, almost improvised feel.

Bonneville does provide at least one important service: The next time an older actress complains that there are no good projects for women of a certain age, she'll be able to hold this clunker up as Exhibit A.

There are some good ideas buried beneath the grotesque whimsy, and several animated sequences are modestly clever. But Pitt's mannered performance will inspire nothing but a run to the video store, in search of a real Burton.

If you've had a hole in your heart since "Everybody Loves Raymond" ended, Tom Caltabiano's low-key documentary about star Ray Romano ought to fill the gap nicely.

Alexandre Aja’s supernatural thriller Horns isn’t an entirely successful movie. But with a committed Daniel Radcliffe in the lead, it’s a consistently intriguing one.

Though the central blowout is as epic as advertised, so is the movie's self-congratulatory obnoxiousness.

It's Barkin, though, who holds everything together, even as her character is falling apart. Whether or not she took this role as a favor - Levinson's father, Barry, directed her in "Diner" decades ago - ultimately seems irrelevant. This isn't an invitation you should feel obliged to accept. But if you decide to stop by, she'll be the reason you stay.

Among the cast, Chandrasekhar is easily the funniest of the Lizards, though in fairness, each has his moments. The movie does, too; just expect them to shrink exponentially depending on your level of sobriety.

On the bright side, Robinson’s unlucky astronauts are played by Liev Schreiber, Elias Koteas, Olivia Williams and Romola Garai. All of these actors approach their potential demise with impressive conviction.

Despite its impressive pedigree and unshakable assurance, Knight and Day is nothing more or less than an average popcorn flick.

Gram Parsons' last rites were among the most extra­ordinary in rock history. Too bad this retelling of the singer's final adventure is so tame.

The awkwardly told story of salsa legend Hector Lavoe, El Cantante doesn't even get the title right: It should have been called "La Esposa," since it's really less about the singer than his wife.

An appealing Deschanel does her best, but the pair is mismatched in every way, from age to attitude. The entire movie is hung on Carrey's shtick, so if you're a fan, you'll have a decent time.

Despite this chance to experience something thrilling and new, her life is just as dull the second time around.

Confident that his subject matter is inherently scintillating, however, Moore lays it out in creakily dry fashion. Those who consider computers to be glorified word processors may find their eyes glazing over in a matter of minutes.

Intriguing almost in spite of itself.

When a 6-foot-tall man is playing your emotionally delicate heroine, a little subtlety goes a long way.

All this story needs is a mariachi band to walk in on all the overwrought mourners. Oh, wait ... yep. There it is.

A cross-dressing comedy that's all dressing can only, well, leave you cross.

There's barely half a film here, stretched and pulled so thin you can nearly see through it.

While Lurie could have gone lighter on the symbolism, he ratchets up the tension with deft intelligence. He's not just making a thriller but a horror film, and we feel his own fear in every scene.

If there were a Lifetime Channel for Men, Emilio Aragón’s unabashedly sentimental take on old age would surely wind up there.

It’s a shame to see both actor and director play things so safe. Not only is much of the choreography reminiscent of their better films, but they rely too much on digital effects. Instead, we should be awed solely by the sight of a first-rate fighter.

Miller and Pearce are admirably determined to do their complex characters justice, but the generic script turns them into enigmatic symbols, locked in a hollow time capsule.

Sets out to be a social critique but settles for smug disdain.

That other actors - especially Akerman and Tony Hale, wonderful as a tentative couple - fare better suggests Radnor should give directing another shot.

Hartley's satire of consumer-driven sexuality is undermined by the straight-faced decision to cast affectless model Tatiana Abracos as the heroine.

Abranches intends for a religious parable by way of Greek tragedy, but the film drowns in a morass of portentous signs and poetic symbols.

Unfortunately, the patina of witty satire eventually gives way to a gratuitous sadism that makes this sordid story feel like a fraud.

After a clever start, Spurlock turns self-serious, aiming to teach us something about our enemies and ourselves.

Zoe Saldana makes being an action hero look so easy in Colombiana, you have to wonder why more actresses don't try it.

To outsiders, in fact, Breaking Dawn: Part I will probably look like the weirdest, most expensive chastity commercial ever created. But Meyer's massive fan base will see something else entirely. They'll see a faithful, well-made depiction of the most eventful book in a beloved series. They'll see the actors they adore embodying characters they cherish.

Perry's characters have always been drawn with broad strokes, as heroes or villains. In this case, all the villains are young women, and all the young women in this film-without exception--are monstrous.

Strikes a nice balance between smart and sweet.

In equal parts earnest and awkward, this romance between a Mormon missionary and an L.A. party boy falls significantly short of its lofty goals.

Slick direction and a strong central turn from Jeffrey Dean Morgan will keep you watching, if rarely from the edge of your seat.

Despite Sparrow's ongoing flashes of charm, Depp himself seems to know he's coasting.

Granted, this movie is unlikely to threaten "The Departed" at Oscar time. But for mindless entertainment, you could do a lot worse.

Thomas offers particularly fine work, but the underwritten script, which relies too much on sentimentality, gives him little to do.

The Golden Age is packed with distractions. But the biggest of all is the story itself, which works so mightily to tarnish the queen at its core.

Regrettably, neither cast nor crew is able to save it from itself.

Its compelling conceit is immediately weighed down by leaden execution.

It's as if the TV character Dawson directed "Heathers," or another one, Parker Lewis, remade "Scream." Who'd have guessed that would be a can't-lose idea?

Step Up 3D is so lacking in any kind of edge, it might as well be "High School Musical: The Hip-Hop Edition."

Ever catch yourself thinking, "Man, I wish beer commercials lasted just 104 minutes longer"? The Farrelly brothers are ready to make your dreams come true.

The kind of movie in which plot and performances (and members of the fairer sex) are treated as accessories, "Tokyo Drift" is all about the action. And on that count, it won't let you down.

Unfortunately, though, Bynes' persistent mugging only emphasizes Nussbaum's relentlessly cartoonish direction.

This rather limp Australian comedy shares "Bridget's" theme, but none of its panache.

The movie wants to say something significant about the excitement and alienation of life in a strange — which is to say, new — place. The film never gets there, but its aims are honorable, and the lovingly shot Shanghai scenery does enhance the trip.

Teller is, by far, the best thing about this easygoing, stubbornly generic independent romance from Max Nichols (son of Oscar-winning director Mike Nichols).

The filmmakers were too busy throwing together potential blockbuster material to notice all the loose ends and gaping holes in logic. Which may, ultimately, explain why Willis looks so confused throughout. Maybe he, too, is straining to locate some intelligence amid all the machinery.

There are two ways of looking at Paul Etheredge-Ouzts' thriller, which he is proudly billing as "the first-ever all-gay slasher film." Either it's a truly lousy retread of horror-movie clichés, or it's a mildly amusing sendup of them.

Many of the cast members originated their roles onstage, and the ensemble scenes capture the spirited sense of fun that is Perry's trademark.

Given the subject matter, the movie is almost fatally lacking in passion.

Perry makes sure villains get their comeuppance, while heroines get big, frilly weddings - with God, and an imperious Maya Angelou - presiding over it all.

In Mean Machine, soccer is pretty much an excuse to watch a bunch of grown men smashing their heads together. Which, come to think of it, may be enough.

By the time the film was finished, I felt ready to move on from these characters. But I was definitely ready to learn more about Norwood.

What saves Country Strong from drowning in its own tears are the leads, all four of whom imbue Feste's unabashedly clichéd script with some genuine humanity.

On the bright side, the actors are experienced enough to anchor their free-floating characters. But if you’d like to see this sort of thing done well, watch 2011’s infinitely superior Channing Tatum dramedy “10 Years” on Netflix instead.

Director Bruce Hendricks makes little use of the 3D technology, though the gimmick does distract from the fact that we learn nothing new about the guys. It would have been interesting to hear something of their history, especially given their much-discussed Evangelical background.

As it turns out, the only truly interesting element about this clichéd surfer flick is that it was made by celebrated directors Michael Apted and Curtis Hanson.

There are movies that are all about the characters, and then there are movies, like Bangkok Dangerous, that are far more about the directors who created those characters.

Like a creaky Vegas act desperate to please, The Incredible Burt Wonderstone is so eager you can’t help wanting to like it. But you also can’t help wondering if something better is playing in the theater next-door.

The 6-year-old I watched it with summed it up perfectly: “It starts out fun but then it’s kinda sad and scary. And sorta boring, too.”

In his directorial debut, Krasinski doesn't seem to believe in his hideous men so much as he appears intimidated by them.

A rare opportunity to see shorts without having to spring for a ticket to a film festival.

Don’t be fooled by the smoke and mirrors. There is nothing here that is great, or powerful. Worst of all, there’s nothing here that even feels like Oz.

In the end, Albert’s biggest problem isn’t the threat of coyotes or cholera. It’s that he’s being played by the wrong guy.

The kind of movie designed more for a has-been than a potential leading man, this slapdash dramatic comedy fits the now-established pattern perfectly: Your (Ryan Reynolds) committed performance is the sole reason to see it.

Its crazy non sequiturs and anything-goes performances do lend it a certain cult appeal.

Watching the movie felt like any number of bad blind dates.

Pure grindhouse, so committed to its own junkiness that it is, in its way, a pleasure to behold.

Weitz takes a looser approach than the series’ last director, Catherine Hardwicke, did. He has a better sense of humor, too.

So, yes, the story is bland and predictable and disappointing. But here's the thing about dance movies (or cheerleading movies, or even marching band movies): All that really matters is the action.

There's plenty of passion beneath this movie's unadorned surface.

It's easy to see how a film so unafraid of religious touchstones could become a phenomenon among the faithful. Nonbelievers, however, need not apply.

It's a shame Bravo doesn't allow herself a broader perspective, because she's right to consider Castro one of the most important figures of the 20th century.

Casting choices seem oddly random (only Cavanagh and Nicholson have any familial chemistry). And the humor, which is vital to a movie this inherently grim, falls flat.

We'll overlook the clichéd predictability of their partnership and note that Plummer, and M. Emmet Walsh as his lonely friend, are a pleasure to watch.

It's really too bad the film remains so resolutely flimsy, because the novice cast is so clearly delighted to be putting on a show, their glee is contagious enough to carry us along -- for a while.

Most important, he’s got Vaughn, whose mix of silliness and sincerity is an ideal anchor for the broad premise. Vaughn is one of those actors who tends to autopilot his way through too many mediocre projects. When he goes all in, though, it’s impossible to resist his charm.

It's only when he (Wang) slows down and allows the characters to connect emotionally that his movie's unflinching honesty takes your breath away.