Glenn Whipp

Screenwriter Chris Sparling worked in confined spaces to far better effect before with the minimalist Ryan Reynolds thriller "Buried." He must have used his best ideas there.

Kramer, 10 years removed from his lone critical success, "The Cooler," and writer Adam Minarovich aren't exactly aping Tarantino, if only because they don't have the talent or inclination to aim that high.

The film, directed by first-timer Rocky Powell, has a different happy ending in mind, one that adheres to rom-com formulas in a manner that should give it a second life on basic cable. Just don't expect to fall hard for it.

Fatman isn’t a lump of coal. More like a fruitcake your neighbor dropped off in early December that’s left on the counter through the new year, its red and green cherries hardening into buckshot before being hauled out to the curb with the Christmas tree.

A tonal jumble, veering between forced farce and tired, rom-com beats, with little feeling real or true.

It’s an overload of overkill, yet as tedious and empty as the last day of a 72-hour trip to Vegas when the novelty has worn off and you just want to go home and sleep.

Gone is also your hard-earned money if you buy a ticket to this slack piece of work, a movie that makes "Murder on the Orient Express" feel like "The Silence of the Lambs" by comparison.

Wilson's amiable vocal work keeps the predictability from becoming too grating.

Cult comedy team Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim take the mechanics of the Funny or Die website and stretch it past the breaking point with their movie.

The girl world found in crass comedies such as You Again, movies that reduce women to sad clichés and a uniform level of bad behavior that would appall the cast members of "Jersey Shore."

As for the movie itself, it is better than the original "Cats & Dogs." But so is a rabies shot.