Luke Y. Thompson

This movie is, essentially, porn, and whether it's a turn-on is likely to be subjective to each viewer. Those who find traditional porn too artificial should be pleased.

That sweet streak has grown, like a cancer, and gradually killed off any of the edge their (Farrellys) humor may have once had.

When the movie works, it gleefully skewers the clichés of the buddy cop genre... When it doesn't work, it's exactly what it purports to be lampooning--a lame, boring cop buddy movie.

It's moderately compelling drama, but also fairly static stuff, image-wise.

If your expectations aren't too high, there's lots of cool shit on-screen.

Director Stephen T. Kay (The Last Time I Committed Suicide) busts off some cool shots, and Eric Kripke's story is pretty sound until the finale. Worth a look for horror fans, but nothing classic.

Doesn't hit a home run on every action sequence -- an early bit set in Colombia is too long and too disjointed -- but there are one or two bits in the movie's latter third that are guaranteed to hook action fans.

Silly, yes, but sweet and fun too.

Is it worth the goofy characters and weak story for the effects and action sequences? Absolutely.

The movie works while you watch it, with plenty of scares both sudden and psychological.

Actually boasts a decent script with character development, a sense of pace and some well-drawn supporting roles.

The new documentary Porn Star: The Legend of Ron Jeremy shows, all is not quite as it seems.

Laurel Canyon lacks the sense of risk that "High Art" had, and in doing so, emasculates its apparent protagonist in Sam.

As family reunion trauma flicks go, The Sea is by no means up to the standards of Thomas Vinterberg's "The Celebration," but it does make clear that Kormákur is a director whose evolution will be interesting to watch.

It's brutal horror, where anyone can die at any time, and gorehounds will love it. Average folks may find it too intense.

Actually quite agreeable, but only because of a group of actors who are able to salvage the paper-thin material.

The opening credits -- animated sequences that spoof airline safety cards -- are a high point, but if you're not a prude, the rest of the flick ain't bad either.

Assisted Living's overall mix doesn't quite jell, though there are worthwhile moments.

One of those genially paced, character-driven indies, and succeeds as such very well.

Once you get past the inherent silliness of the premise, what we've got here is actually a deft little chiller, stylishly directed despite the so-so cast.

Robert Rodriguez and his kids conjure up a charming 3-D fantasy.

There are no stunning revelations herein, but then, that's not why you're going to go see it, is it?

Neorealism it ain't, but if you have a sufficiently long attention span, there are moments of laugh-out-loud absurdity that are worth the price of admission.

The skeleton's a hoot, and the score, credited to the solo-monikered Valentino, is pitch-perfect. Some judicious editing would make a huge improvement, however, because even at 90 minutes, it feels like Blamire's stretching the joke a bit thin.

Give Care and McFarlane points for trying to do something innovative with the same old thing. But realize that, as spruced up as the facade may be, this movie is indeed still the same old thing.

John Leguizamo, in a rare watchable performance.

It’s basically a high-caliber book-on-tape augmented with actual (as opposed to horror-movie fake) found footage — a missing link between full-on dramatization and simply reading the book while imagining visuals.

Fans of Arthur C. Clarke may be pleased, but fans of serious biology may bust out laughing at the goofily rendered aliens who show up.

If you can cast all semblance of logic aside, it's sort of fun.

That there's moral ambiguity to his actions represents some sort of step up from the cinematic norm. Alas, Christopher Walken has very little to do as Creasy's best buddy.

Some won't appreciate the mix of tones, but none of the humor cheapens the film's final blow, nor is it designed to condone terrorism in any way.

If you don't know who to vote for by now, whatever you do, don't see this movie. It's only going to tell you bad things. We're having fun here, right?

There could have been life in the material, but no one involved save Hurt and Collins seems to have taken the time to find it.

By movie's end what began as an occasionally tragic comedy has slowly and effectively become a grand metaphor for the journey of life.

In general, Bad Boys II is Bay unleashed. This is a good thing when it comes to action sequences--fans of excessive spectacle will definitely dig the car chases that involve flying cadavers. It's a bit less of a good thing between said moments of spectacle.

Perhaps realizing that rare performances in snoozers like "The Horse Whisperer" and "The Last Castle" weren't doing him (Redford) any favors, he seems to have entered a new phase in his career, with a wealth of old man roles now open to him. He was very good in last year's "The Clearing;" he's better in this.

As ridiculous as it all is...it's somehow eminently watchable.

The movie gets bogged down in dull dialogue, despite some truly impressive special effects and a hilariously silly CG devil who closely resembles his counterpart from the PlayStation game Tekken 2.

Definitely merits its R rating with a fearless approach that will earn genuine laughs as it turns a few stomachs. Yes, a Rob Schneider movie that's funny. Strange but true.

Lee, who played the retro groove thang broadly in "Undercover Brother," dives so wholeheartedly and unironically into this movie about, yes, roller disco, that any faults seem minor.

It's all fairly brilliantly twisted, but it seems that series creator Don Mancini has utterly given up on scares -- there's only one decent shock toward the very end.

Doesn't quite scale the heights it could and should, often because of its inappropriate humor, which could be blamed on cultural mistranslation.

Particularly unsuitable for cinematic adaptation, but when has that ever stopped anyone.

The movie does find fresh ways to tweak the formula, making it more than the sum of its broad strokes.

To call it a conservative or Republican film would be inaccurate: For one thing, it celebrates (gasp!) multiculturalism and diversity. For another, the closest it ever comes to expressing a political viewpoint is when a metal sculptor advocates more art education in schools.

Paradoxically, this technique both keeps you from getting to know the soldiers better and puts you completely in their boots, understanding directly that (as one character puts it) war is boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.

A film worth your time, and if you know going into it that there's no closure, it'll give you all the more freedom to enjoy what IS there.

Sometimes it bounces along, other times it feels forced. Kids and hardcore fans will love it regardless, and those who don't will nonetheless be talking about it for the next three years.

Kaena resembles the Jim Henson fantasy in many ways, from its visual imagination and creature design to the hideousness of its more humanoid characters (except Kaena, who's a babe) and the general mediocrity of the voice acting.

A waste of a decent premise.

It's composed of really long scenes that are mostly dialogue, with transition action imagined or implied only. Couldn't we go outside for at least one scene?

A surprisingly efficient B-grade revenge pic.

Levin's on-camera presence is warm, wry and even-tempered, and he never feels the need to rub anything in.

Isn't as funny as it should be. Cedric's speech impediment only goes so far -- he's actually funnier in Serving Sara, without having to rely on a big wig to do his acting for him.

Many of the dilemmas that are established never pay off, and there is no clear protagonist or antagonist. To make matters even murkier, the movie is poorly shot in visually uninteresting locations with constant soft focus. That said, it's also damn funny.

Deserves an A for ambition, but the final product is a pastiche of too many predecessors.

The problem with Spartan isn't so much that it's mediocre, but that it could be a whole lot better.

If you like stuff breaking in THX, Swordfish delivers like no other this year. Bring earplugs.

Either a bit more humor or a bit more heart could exponentially improve things.

As a date-night movie for women of 50 or thereabouts, chances are it'll do the trick.

Simmons plays it understated, conveying a sad-sack quality that's more relatable than Charley's irrational catatonia. The movie should have been about him instead.

Fright fans could do a lot worse than The Eye; the Pangs have talent, but when they realize that a film isn't the same thing as a feature-length commercial, perhaps they'll provide us with some more original visions.

If you're not in the mood for explicit discussions (and occasional depictions) of the sex life of French adolescents, close your eyes.

Certainly delivers violence and heroics, but not in a way everyone is going to enjoy -- it's brutal and harrowing.

When the entire theme is about misdirection, then yes, assessing how enjoyable the swerves and bluffs are, both narratively and conceptually, feels entirely appropriate. And they all too often feel like letdowns.

The unquestionably well-intentioned and obviously deeply personal Luckiest Girl Alive would benefit from more mature guidance.

Yes, there are kills, but they’re often as comical as they are scary, and deliberately so. It’s a fun gateway horror movie for kids—and the easily scared who want to test their limits lightly.

To its credit, and this isn’t damning with faint praise, the new House Party is frequently very funny. (The R-rated language and creative insults are a great asset, even if they might restrict the potential teen audience.) What it has in humor, though, it lacks in pace.

The “mystery” elements simply aren’t mysterious. Yet without them, the sparse moments of gore and icky bugs aren’t quite enough to pad things out.

The only benefit the soul is likely to get from watching this is the comforting knowledge that you, the viewer, are not any of the people onscreen. Which doesn’t mean you can’t have fun watching them be bad, of course. But it’s a detached kind of fun.

Momoa’s clearly abetting a passion project here, but unfortunately, Camargo hasn’t managed to capture a similar passion from his main cast.

Though the recipe of a feudal setting with fantasy and myth-making elements ought to be strong, the mixture is off, like a handsomely plated sandwich where the ingredients are more bland than anticipated.

Hundreds Of Beavers is one of the most distinctive movies you’ll see all year, and one made for midnight viewings if ever anything was.

If you can get through a rough first act, you’ll see both absurd military superheroics and the greatest grocery run ever.

Writer-director Daniel Taplitz seems to be trying to invoke classic screwball with this convoluted setup, but it plays like mediocre sitcom.

The animation looks good, especially when CG-enhanced, but the Rugrats babies' constant snot jokes, bug-eating and "cute" mispronunciations grate after a while.

Don't go to this movie looking to be actually scared, but as a gothic romp it's surprisingly effective.

All of the plot developments seem half-hearted -- which is a shame, because the star has the charm to succeed if given a better movie.

Crowe is quite capable of being compelling even when doing banal stuff—the highlight here is a variation on the “falling off the wagon” trope, as he captures the sheer delight of a guy who has literally forgotten how much he loves whiskey. The end point, like the movie’s, feels inevitable, but the journey there contains small joys.

If it weren't for Murray, there'd be nothing at all to the film, which forgets all conventional notions of story or characterization.

50 Cent sounds articulate in his raps, but as a lead actor, he talks like his mouth is filled with food.

Kusama offers moments of inspiration, but it frustrates like hell that she couldn't nail it completely.

The whole thing is best enjoyed while really drunk.

Only Kerry Condon, as Freeman's geeky adopted daughter, plays anything approaching a realistic character.

Where are our Tracy/Hepburn screwball combos? Part of the appeal of "Wedding Crashers" was that Isla Fisher truly did have the comedic chops to match Vince Vaughn, and Just Friends suggests that Reynolds and Faris have potential greatness together too. Just not so much in this film.

The film generally looks like a TV special, with low production values and lots of closeups.

Kennedy is funny, but too cartoonish to ever identify with -- Diggs and Anderson are the real stars of the show, and need more screen time.

The Broken Lizard types bring the best out of Paxton, only to abandon him in the second half and focus on themselves. A bit more humility might have served them in better stead.

Feels like two films that aren't closely related enough, either tonally or narratively, to warrant their intertwining.

The film is a somewhat disjointed affair that, like the man himself (Green), is occasionally brilliant, frequently repetitive and sometimes merely annoying.

The world of football riots seems rife with potential for the big screen, but Green Street Hooligans only periodically rises to it.

Against all odds, the American Pie movies have actually gotten a little better each time out, though that's certainly not to say that they're, uhhh, "masterpieces."

Jeffrey Greeley's loving photography of the wintry landscapes is beautiful, but lead actor Jacob Lee Hedman is nowhere near as charismatic as he needs to be for a film with this few characters.

Director Rob Connolly may well think he's upping the stakes by plunging his film into borderline horror territory, but in fact he's minimizing them.

It seems like a slam-dunk pitch -- "Pretty Woman" with the genders reversed -- but there's one major problem: The whole hooker-fantasy bit is much more of a guy thing.

It's a skillfully made film, but not especially fun to watch, and the apparent thesis that poverty justifies such acts doesn't quite wash.

Rare is the star vehicle that is as poorly matched to its star as Drillbit Taylor, which casts Owen Wilson as a homeless Army deserter and con man, able to fool people into believing he's both a substitute teacher and a master of hand-to-hand combat.

Where Bowling for Columbine is at its most valuable is in its examination of America's culture of fear as a root cause of gun violence.