Michael Dequina

Patrick Sheane Duncan's script deftly weaves together the stories of Serling and Walden, and Zwick remarkably sidesteps the trap of sticky sentiment--an idea further carried forth by Ryan's admirably against-type (and shamefully unsung) performance.

A glacially-paced disease-of-the-week movie blown up to big screen size.

Basically more of the same, and depending on who you are, that's either an encouraging statement or a warning.

Lahti's feature directorial debut plays like a watered-down variation ("Ghost World") -- that is, until the final third, when the film not only deviates but flat out derails.

It makes no sense, but then again neither does much of anything in The Country Bears.

Less Bond than simply boring, a tedious and overdirected race-against-time drama with a few espionage elements thrown in.

Were it not for the presence of higher-level acting talent, A Rumor of Angels would have been a banal TV movie.

With its simplistic, didactic approach, the presence of a top-flight ensemble is the only thing separating John Q from your average TV movie of the week.

A passive film, playing it quiet and safe, hoping that the viewer will extend some good will towards it.

Given how much Yellen does right, it's all the more shameful that she so spectacularly sinks her film in the foot with one hugely questionable "creative" decision: adding a pair of ghosts into the mix.

As palpable as the atmosphere is, had the film boasted a clearer, more memorable story and performances that were a step above adequate, the creepiness wouldn't have simply lingered with the viewer, it would have gotten under their skin.

Falls apart with the slightest nudge -- of thought, that is.

Doesn't necessarily make Murder by Numbers an awful film; it's certainly watchable, but it never escapes its paint-by-numbers design.

The saccharine conclusion would be problematic in any film, but given how much talent is involved, it's especially disappointing here.

Should the likes of Burstyn, Flanagan, Smith, and Knight have to be reduced to playing eccentric caricatures of aging Southern belles?

Surprisingly lifeless monster movie.

Despite the inherently moving story and the respectable work of director John Lee Hancock and the cast, something remains absent throughout the entire film: a certain sense of verve and personality.

Whatever distinguished "Riding in Cars with Boys" the book certainly doesn't show up in the movie.

There's no question that Meg Ryan is the queen of romantic comedies. Yet for every piece of frothy fluff that works -- there comes a couple where you just want to say, "Enough already." Kate & Leopold is one such movie.

Washes away whatever unique filmmaking personality Franklin has.

Not a good film. In fact, it's a rather bad example of that already barrel-bottom-scraping genre, the teenybopper romantic comedy.

Bratt's fast-talking, all-attitude interpretation is showboating without soul -- which can be said of the entire movie.

A two-time Oscar winner playing a crazy person in a big studio film released in late October. Can't you just smell the pretension? Probably not, given the other ways in which this film stinks.

Predictable and tiresome.

Spears, Davis, and company are well aware that they're making nothing more than the cinematic equivalent of Spears' glossy bubble gum pop -- but that's exactly the problem.

The oh-so-convenient convergence of plot threads at the climax make the film feel that much more run-of-the-mill.

All crass in its empty bluster and bogus uplift.

Not that the lackluster love story will matter any to the Sandler faithful, who are there to see the star beat people up and work his regular joe mojo on snooty types; those viewers will certainly get their fill and then some.