Randy Cordova

The visual effects are impressive, and there is a certain kick to seeing the human characters dodging barrels in a life-size Donkey Kong. But we don’t really care about the humans; here, at least, Q*bert is more endearing than Adam Sandler.

Ultimately, the film is never boring, but it's never involving, either. At the end, what you're left with is a modestly entertaining film that doesn't seem to have an original thought in its head. In that way, it's a lot like the characters it spotlights.

Supporting turns by Philip Rosenthal and David Alan Grier as two pals in the business are fun, but they can't prevent the movie's rather aimless nature or self-indulgent feel.

A Kid Like Jake, isn't terrible, but it sure could be better.

Because the film is unable to settle on a tone, it's hard to get invested in much of anything.

The screwball plot is woefully thin and predictable, with inane situations and characters who barely act human.

The film evolves into one of those "watch the hostage fall in love with her captor" tales, always an icky plot development that's not any more appetizing here. There are some more twists to be had, but it's never more than marginally interesting.

Stark’s turgid approach feels both pompous and cold, and the film never connects emotionally.

It looks great, Abbott is twitchy and terrific and you really want to like it. But it's never particularly involving, and it becomes even less so as it progresses. Ultimately, it's just a gorgeous, gruesomely wrapped package with little inside.

Pat and silly, the movie offers a wheezy moral that a buttoned-up American just needs a sensitive Latino and some ethnic cuisine to end the blues.

Unfortunately, the name is the only thing emboldened about this starchy biopic, a dry, talky affair that even Liam Neeson in full glower can’t bring to life.

A LEGO Brickumentary feels like one of those cheerful corporate videos that gets screened at team meetings, designed to rouse employees into a rah-rah fervor. The down side: Most videos of that ilk don’t last for 90 minutes.

Somewhere, deep inside Justice Served, there is the kernel of an interesting idea. But you've got to look hard, because the finished product is pretty dire stuff.

Basically, a lot of things happen; not interesting or believable things, but, hey, there's movement and action.

It's no surprise The Boy Next Door is junk. What is disappointing is that it's not fun junk. It doesn't even merit a good hate-watching, because the whole thing is so meh.

Unfortunately, what the filmmaker has wound up with is something that feels like it should be playing at the bottom end of a triple bill at a drive-in.

Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau never made a movie called Grumpy Old Men Go Camping. If they had, it surely would look a lot like A Walk in the Woods.

It’s an action movie without an exciting moment. It’s a special effects flick with chintzy visuals. And it’s a Gerard Butler vehicle without enough Gerard to go around.

The movie ultimately winds up falling between two stools, failing as both a biography and an action film. Martial arts fans will naturally be drawn to the story, but the film does nothing to open up the world to outsiders.

The kind of fantasy that a 15-year-old boy would love, although parents probably should keep younger teens far, far away. This movie pushes the boundaries of its R rating about as far as they can go.

The chemistry between Baldwin and Moore is strangely disconnected. The performers aren't bad, but they don't generate any kind of heat.

The characters flutter about, argue and flirt, but they are simply too bland and vacuous to make much of an impression. It doesn't help that half of them serve no purpose other than to fill the camera frame.

It is clean, crisp and passionless. You almost wish for some Bravo sleaze to add a little edge to the proceedings.

Nick Ryan’s documentary looks at the disaster by using interviews, actual footage and re-enactments. The latter move undercuts some of the movie’s authenticity. Granted, there probably wasn’t another way to film it, but it muddies the film’s sense of truth.

The filmmaker's seeming lack of skepticism makes for rough going if you don't buy into Kenyon's vision.

Unfortunately, nothing in the film –Foy's performance included – cuts the chill, and you're left trapped in a big, wintry void.

First-time writer-director Tom Gormican keeps the dialogue moving at a rapid pace, which doesn’t obscure the fact that most of what is said is dopey and witless.

The effect is initially giddy but it ultimately wears the viewer down.