Stephen Whitty

It's tasty at times, but feels like a very special episode of "30 Rock." Halfway in, you're still expecting Kenneth the Page to show up.

It's fun to have new version of an old Marvel favorite, and a storyline which adds some genuine mysticism to this ever-expanding franchise. But "Strange" is too often only odd when it needs to be truly magical, and Hollywood-safe when it needs to be brave.

Like the first film, The Secret Life of Pets 2 is at its best when it concentrates on the unconditional love offered by mankind’s best friends, or gently mocks familiar situations.

At its core, The Kill Team has one great performance, and some important things to say – about the dangerous appeal of the strong, and the easy malleability of the young. It’s well worth watching, and thinking on. It’s just a shame that that great performance isn’t matched by all the others – and that what the film has to say is said in such a dutifully by-the-book way.

The film barely lasts an hour-and-a-half. Maybe that’s the problem with the movie. There’s not enough movie.

Has the bare necessities, but not much more.

The result is a careful chronicle that, while staying true to its observational ethos, nonetheless, leaves plenty of questions – and, occasionally, its audience – behind.

It’s not a great movie, but it’s a good reminder of why Rockwell’s admirers have happily stuck with him for decades.

Director Stefano Sollima, who cut his teeth on Italian TV mob dramas, is good at building suspense. He fills the screen with striking images, too -- night-vision raids, heat-signature tracking, eye-in-the-sky surveillance.

Hidden Figures is an earnest movie, but not a very exciting one. The screenplay feels as engineered as a Gemini rocket launch, with every scene and line carefully calculated.

Despite some great effects, and one good performance, it never quite gets underway.

Although the story’s point is clear, the plotting is thin, and it can be easy at times for viewers to feel as confined as the prisoners. But the production design – all grey cement walls, with that platform cutting through the center of the screen like an infernal dumbwaiter – is superb.

The movie's no knockout, but at least it gives us one good performance, and one great one.

In the end, you get a Sunday morning sermon when what you really want is a Saturday midnight screening.

To its credit, even the film realizes how ridiculous it is. After one over-the-top hand-to-hand bout, Lorraine and her Boris Badenov opponent are left literally punch-drunk, swinging wild like a couple of stumblebums.

Marshall makes a good case for its hero as one of the brightest, boldest lawyers to ever walk into a courtroom. So why is it sometimes such a trial?

Unforgettable isn't.

For fans of this goofy sort of comedy, or of Atkinson’s similarly loopy “Mr. Bean,” it may be a gentle treat.

After a sharp, satiric opening, though, Baywatch slowly sinks. The scenery is pretty, including the actors, but Johnson and Efron are better at making fun of themselves than landing zingers.

The switch between moods—obvious comedy and sermonizing message—comes often, and clumsily.

There’s a new “Cars” pulling into theaters, but the series is out of gas.

The all-new, mostly female Ghostbusters reboot is in theaters, full of terrific special effects, icky green slime, a horribly haunted Manhattan and, yes, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. But the big laughs you’d expect from a "Bridesmaids" reunion of director Paul Feig and stars Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy never materialize.

It loses some of its warmth, and most of its charm. And it ends up as nearly as cold and creepy as the space it takes us through.

Too much of Kursk revolves around scenes of sodden sailors sitting around wondering why someone doesn’t just hurry up and rescue them. A sentiment likely to be shared by some audiences, as well.

Sometimes, more is less. Although it’s called Captain America: Civil War, the latest Marvel movie is actually a supersized “Avengers” picture -- overstuffed to bursting.

The special effects remain startling, and in your face. But there's nothing new here, and what's old feels like less. The corporate villains seem to have wandered over from "Rampage." The humor has vanished.

Despite the constant effort and genuine warmth of star Melissa McCarthy, the film’s stitched-together stories come apart early on.

The new Murder on the Orient Express isn’t a whodunit. It’s a why’d-they-do-it. Why make a new version of a perfectly good old movie if you’re not going to do anything new?

Although Affleck's been a decent director - capturing real local color in "Gone Baby Gone" and "The Town," building tension nicely in "Argo" - his work here is dim and dull. Live by Night may be about rum, but the pacing is like molasses.

All the flash and sizzle of modern movie effects can't make up for a once spectacular tale that feels not just scaled-down, but shrunk.

Director James Ponsoldt — who did the very good "The Spectacular Now" and "Smashed" — is great at visuals, peppering the screen with glowing tweets and comments. He overplays the comedy, though, and underplays the mystery — there's never a feeling that Mae is in real danger.

Director Jodie Foster's Money Monster runs a trim 98 minutes, but it's still not quite worth the investment.

Director Ava DuVernay’s version of the beloved children’s classic has a big cast and the best of intentions. It’s socially progressive, racially diverse and packed with positive messages. It’s just not much fun.

As much a biopic of the show as of its stars, Being The Ricardos has a few good performances, and a cleverly structured (if factually challenged) script. But star Nicole Kidman’s performance is shaky, and Sorkin relies too heavily on an overbearing score to deliver the emotions.

Despite its novel plot, and some lovely music and incidental artwork—the title fireworks, the rugged seaside and that glittery magic ball are all beautifully rendered—the film quickly drags.

The film—Weitz’s first since 2015’s indie Grandma—feels a little cheap and shortchanged.

The details of how the McDonalds literally invented the fast-food concept are fascinating. The period details feel right. All in all, the film's a slick, good-looking package. But it still feels empty. Where's the message? Where's the meaning? Where's the beef?

The only thing that's revolting is how dull the series has gotten.

Old silver-fox Gere looks great. He’s almost embarrassingly charming — which is the point — but there’s not much else here.

The Assignment is a movie about a heartless assassin, a mad doctor and a forced surgery. But it’s the movie that should be sued for malpractice.

Demolition is a wreck.

True, the movie's intense, and Jovovich is certainly in fighting shape. But after 15 years of this franchise, it's getting hard to tell Alice from the things she's fighting. It's all squint and grunt, slash and groan.

This movie has Chris Hemsworth, in between "Avengers" movies, and a lot of computer-generated sea life. It uses a lot of fancy lures, but it never hooks you.

To be fair, Being Charlie has some action and a few good jokes. It's not completely unwatchable. It's certainly better than Reiner's last few awful movies.

It's fun for a while, on a simple, single-shooter, video-game level. And for a change, the movie's stunts plug into Statham's pre-Hollywood career as a champion diver; this may be the most watery thriller since "Thunderball."

The film borrows plenty, but it brings nothing new.

Too bad the new actress doesn’t bring much to the party, and this “origin story” feels like leftovers.

Once the story drags Bourne out of retirement, it's just a bunch of fights and chase scenes, only occasionally interrupted by a few lines of dialogue.

Alexander Skarsgard is more abs than actor as the ape man, and Margot Robbie's Jane looks about as 19th-Century as an Aussie surfer girl. Together, they produce all the real-life passion of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad.

Backtrack eventually moves beyond its shamelessly borrowed set-up to create a few chills of its own.

Sure it’s got big, blurry action scenes, a plane crash, and an army of dusty, mindless zombies. But I think some of them may have been the screenwriters, because the movie’s practically lifeless.

Since Dornan is as dull as a catalog model anyway — he wanders through the movie like an Abercrombie searching for his Fitch — the shopping-list look of the movie makes sense. But Dakota Johnson deserves better.

Rather than including people with their politics, the filmmakers depend on flashy sleight-of-hand, distracting us with a deceptive narrative trick that isn’t nearly as fresh as they think.

Even for a film about time loops, everything feels overly familiar. (Note to filmmakers: Simply referencing the film you’re stealing from doesn’t excuse the theft). And unlike Mark and Margaret’s do-over day, in the end the whole thing slips by without leaving any impression at all.

It's all angst and no adventure, a lot of fury and little fun.

Diesel is the star (as well as a producer), in every scene. And he drags the film down with him.

Remember “Olympus Has Fallen”? This one is worse.

Give Lawrence credit for a seriously emotional performance, at least, and thanks to supporting actors Moore, Sutherland and a sly Woody Harrelson for adding color and comedy.

When the story does wrap up, it's all too little, too late, and far too long. Which given everything stuffed into it, just leaves the super-sized Triple 9 triply disappointing.

Badly cast, broadly directed, and hampered by a book that hasn’t aged well since the musical’s 1981 West End debut, it’s hard to imagine just who this film’s target audience is.

The Dark Tower is simply dim.

For a movie that’s supposed to be about a modern-day Geppetto bringing his dolls to life, the wooden Welcome to Marwen never makes it out of the toy box.

A movie that really mined that story would be worth the gold. This one barely doesn’t even capture the bronze.

Some movies are feasts. Some films are desserts. This picture is cheese in a can, and if it only accepted that, it would be a lot more fun — like “Alligator,” the tongue-in-cheek classic that had a toothy terror climbing out of a city sewer.

Real films breathe, alive with imperfections, accidents, with everything that Lee's worked so carefully to guard against. Billy Lynn's Long Half Time Walk is long, all right, but only half-alive — as careful as a diagram, as chilly as a statue.

There's noise and movement, an all-out war, and the usual happy ending, but no real blood, no real life. And not much fun.

Inside the endlessly dull, oh-so-serious All I See Is You there’s a short, fun, trashy movie dying to get out. And dying. And dying.

It never stops for a minute, yet it never goes anywhere. And much as it promises to take you to a thousand planets, it can’t find one sign of intelligent life.

Instead of ever getting truly "Magnificent," these multicultural gunslingers remain largely a meh seven.

But the real problem is that the picture feels padded. There are endless, and pointless, scenes of radio hosts debating the vigilante violence. And the wildly mismatched shoot-outs — every criminal Kersey goes up against is slow, stupid and a lousy shot — waters down the thrills.

There are no surprises, and the addition of a supposedly mysterious killer fails to add any mystery.

Slim movies like this live or die based on their personal charm, and the sour Destination Wedding soon wheezes its way into the ICU.

While the first "Independence Day" was genuinely big, dumb fun, its sequel only manages to be a bigger, dumber bore.

Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but Domino dishes it up as a sloppy mess of warmed-over clichés. Instead of his old high style and kinky violence, director Brian De Palma delivers only crude thrills and ugly stereotypes, a soggy bag of junk-food snacks.

Come to Daddy starts out like a nasty drama, ends up as a gruesomely gory, coldly comic revenge thriller – and desperately loses its way somewhere in-between.

Instead of intriguing ambiguity, this updated version – which had a long and bumpy development – offers only maddening confusion...With false endings within false endings, it’s the sort of movie whose final fade-out will leave audiences groaning in frustration.

Quick, what do you call it when a movie takes both of the year’s biggest breakout action stars and wastes them in a bad Kevin Costner movie? Criminal.

The first-time filmmakers have little idea of pace, or imagery. Flatly lit, squarely staged, the scenes just plod on.

Luckily the latest episode to arrive, dubbed Fifty Shades Freed, is also the last. And good thing, too, because by now we’ve definitely gone 100 shades too far.

The script takes forever to get started, and once it’s going, labours to create a single plausible character. Nor can Taylor, who last handled the dreary The Girl On The Train, wring any suspense from his scenes.

This Simone film hits all the wrong notes early. What is it trying to say about this enraged, iconic singer? Why does it want to say it? Since screenwriter Cynthia Mort apparently never asked those questions, director Cynthia Mort can't offer any answers.

Robert De Niro is back doing standup in The Comedian, and it's a movie made to be heckled. Full of gross jokes (and an even grosser love story), it deserves the hook — and fast.

Why is she attracted to him? For that matter, why are we watching?

No one has been too naughty to be subjected to this reindeer poop.

Pretty as Bratt and Munn are, they're not distracting enough to cover up for the screaming Hart and grating Jeong, who seem to be in a race to see who can play a more annoying character. In the end, it's a tie — they both win.

Moonwalkers is supposedly a comedy. So its clever conspiracy quickly goes disastrously wrong.

Hugely expensive and extravagantly stupid, Alice Through the Looking Glass is just one more silly Hollywood mashup, an innocent fantasy morphed into a noisy would-be blockbuster.

Swiss Army Man's greatest challenge is to its audience. Just, exactly, how much will we sit still for? Endless scenes of Dano in role-playing drag, sporting a rag-mop wig and giving dating tips to a corpse? Frequent closeups of Radcliffe's furry flatulent buttocks?

Admittedly, Travolta, who produced, is sure having fun. What ham wouldn’t? Chewing on the scenery like it was a meatball hero, he swaggers around in shiny suits and silver wigs, barking orders.

Youth is fleeting. "Youth" is not. In fact, you may feel yourself getting older just watching it.

So, Bobby, seriously, what the hell is happening? You got a new movie, or what you’re billing as a movie, except it's already on cable and I figure a month from now it'll be in one of those Redbox things. And it's called Heist, I guess because it wants to separate me from my money.

A Mother’s Day movie full of flat jokes, reheated clichés and two hours spent staring at your watch.

Hugh Jackman doesn't play Wolverine in Eddie the Eagle, which is too bad. The film deserves to be slashed to bits.

Director Alex Proyas’ movie feels like a bad video game.

Got your holiday turkey yet? Well, don't worry, Diane Keaton and John Goodman have one waiting for you at the movie theater.

For a movie about purpose, Captive never finds its own.

This movie has almost nothing redeeming. And it’s flat out gross.

The Angry Birds Movie is just fowl.