Steve Persall

Even when I.Q. turns to mush, it's appealing mush. Robbins has never been so downright adorable on screen; befuddlement becomes him. Ryan looks a few years too old for such an ingenue role, but few female actors have such an immediate bond with an audience. [25 Dec 1994, p.14C]

Hoffman's eye for detail isn't matched by his jolting way with a narrative, which an extra year's preparation and editing from its original planned release didn't help. One comes away with the suspicion that Restoration should have been a longer movie, and feeling somewhat relieved that it isn't. [02 Feb 1996, p.5]

It's occasional fun, but that's about all, folks.

One of the family comedy treats of the season. [15 Oct 1993, p.6]

Strange Days - on and off screen - should be a lesson to filmmakers not to use virulent, touchy subjects for entertainment shortcuts. Bigelow has created a state-of-the-art movie machine, with all the moral and political complexity of an Etch-a-Sketch. [13 Oct 1995, p.10]

Carlito's Way isn't a bad movie, just one that could be much better with more of the subversiveness that Pacino and De Palma wrought in Scarface. [12 Nov 1993, p.8]

Director Lee Tamahori (Mulholland Falls, Once Were Warriors) proceeds at an admirable pace through these jeopardies, yet always gives the impression that he's more concerned with the emotional violence boiling underneath a scene than the physical excitement. [26 Sep 1997, p.3]

Nothing about Koolhoven's film is stunning, but it's a solid piece of work, occasionally feeling as tense as life-and-death situations with Nazis should be.

Kick-Ass is a rabid puppy of a movie, energetically bounding off the screen and into your lap, where it proceeds to chew off your face.

Most of the time I was distracted by the superb photorealism of The Good Dinosaur's American Southwest backdrops, wondering how much money Disney would save by just filming the real thing.

Another Earth is stealthily effective, with silences often counting more than words.

The Amazing Spider-Man is fun, as any summer movie amusement ride can be. But it left me feeling the same as Raimi's version; that groundwork has been dutifully laid for a winning franchise in need of a few surprises.

Working in tandem they (Gordon-Levitt/Shannon) make Premium Rush a movie that's off the chain, as the kids say.

Despite another charismatic turn by Chadwick Boseman as Thurgood, Marshall gradually feels less like his movie.

It's a refreshing change from run-of-the-kill horror. Nothing in Splice feels done merely for the moment -- it's to creep you out later.

This is old-school monumental filmmaking, without CGI tricks or many soundstage comforts for a dedicated cast. David Lean would probably approve.

Not even J.K. Rowling can say abracadabra and make a worthwhile movie franchise appear. The lightning that struck Harry Potter once merely grazes Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, turning the sorcerer's mentor into a fantasy apprentice.

Deadpool's flawed insolence is appealing, like a mangy pup crawling into your lap.

The IMF workings are still complex, but without Brian DePalma's artistic indulgences (Part 1) and John Woo's poetic distractions (Part 2). Abrams cuts to the chase whenever the option arises, and the results don't leave much time to question logic or motive. [4 May 2006, p.6W]

The Infiltrator is an evocative crime drama, anchored by Cranston's gift for playing internal conflict with wordless expression and that deep, clinched voice.

As Kay and Arnold lurch toward intimacy, the roles bring out a playful side seldom seen in Streep and practically never in Jones, his signature surliness melting into disarming smiles and tenderness.

Rogue One will engage such diehards but making new friends for the brand is unlikely.

It's rare to wish a movie were an hour or two longer, when it already feels an hour longer than it is.

The latest incarnation of Bob Kane's classic comic book creation shares the same angular, menacing animation style of the Fox TV Network afternoon series that inspired it. [25 Dec 1993, p.7B]

Christensen plays him with Lecter-like intensity; the unsettling calmness of someone capable of anything.

Movies about cooperating Africans and Americans often take a condescending risk of great white saviors making everything better for poor black folks. The Good Lie isn't that sort of movie, except in its marketing.

American Made wants it both ways, with comedy eroding its drama and vice versa.

Linklater tinkers with Ponicsan’s memorable characters while asking practically the same performances of his actors that Ashby did. Of course, if a viewer isn’t familiar with The Last Detail then Last Flag Flying gets by as an okay grumpy old soldiers tragicomedy. The rest of us know better because we’ve seen far better.

The Conjuring 2 is serviceable horror, heavy on the audio stings yet smarter than the average gorefest.

The Runaways isn't just about rock 'n' roll; it IS rock 'n' roll, as loud, sexy, sometimes sloppy and ultimately exhilarating as the music can be.

Pawn Sacrifice tells a fascinating story in unspectacular fashion, resulting in a draw.

This is a slight movie, but it's Williams' all the way (possibly to an Oscar nod) while the rest of the cast supports her well.

Salt is a movie constantly painting itself into corners then tromping out with arbitrary twists and action distractions.

Lawrence makes every moments as Katniss count, pouring out mixed feelings through puffy eyes.

Think "Catch Me If You Can" mashed up with "Brokeback Mountain" if Mel Brooks directed and you'll get the idea.

The heist movie genre gets a hip-hop makeover in Takers, a movie loaded with as much style as ammunition.

It's a very good performance that isn't for the "Talladega Nights" crowd and indie audiences can appreciate that.

The most satisfying portions of Saving Mr. Banks occur when the movie adds pinches of salt to the spoonfuls of sugar making this medicine go down.

When she's (Hawkins) on camera, I'd swear the screen bends into a smile.

With each musical reprise and imitated frame, Condon continues a fight of comparisons he can't win. Either imitate a classic faithfully or leave out the songs and make your own version. Or just leave perfection alone.

Alien: Covenant is smarter than the average horror flick with a healthy dose of gross.

The movie is mostly fun and ultimately disposable, which is a letdown after Pixar's previous greatness.

School Ties is a completely satisfying entertainment with an authentic sense of period, characterization and compelling drama. If there is any justice in this world, this affecting tale of injustice will find a wide audience to share its magic. [18 Sept 1992, p.8]

The movie is like an old vinyl LP; the best cuts are on the first side, there's a bangup finish and a lot of filler material in between.

Bale operates in full brood throughout. Studi is a strong presence stymied by the movie’s misplaced priorities. Hostiles is another Western in which Indian characters are props for white man problems.

Will they, won't they? A bolder movie wouldn't settle for maybe.

Leslie Harris wrote and directed this special jury prize winner at the 1993 Sundance Film Festival, which often slips into Afternoon Special territory with its story of teen pregnancy. What keeps it buoyant and engaging is a remarkable performance by newcomer Ariyan Johnson as Chantel, whose hip, flippant moods mask an ambitious, bright mind. [18 Jun 1993, p.10]

Pacific Rim gives big, dumb and loud an exemplary name and summer audiences something to cheer.

Hocus Pocus is a sweet-spirited romp that could give clean-minded silliness a good name once again. [16 July 1993, p.6]

Part 1 of Harry Potter's long goodbye is technically impressive as usual, especially an animated shadow play explaining the whole Deathly Hallows myth.

At least This Means War is an equal opportunity misfire, with as much appeal for men as women, compared to a one-sided weeper like "The Vow."

They're an entertaining foursome, and Estevez guides them through lovely scenery, clever sight gags and personal confessions with leisurely skill.

The Rover fascinates and frustrates in equal measure, with Michod withholding details of plot and character so thoroughly that a nihilistic fog sets in.

Mother and Child is depressively interesting, with characters constantly ruining their best chances at happiness.

This is certainly the talkiest of the seven films in the series and Craven never comes close to convincing us this could all be true. [14 Oct 1994, p.10]

Outbreak is an expert what-if nightmare, albeit occasionally tempered by conventional distractions. [10 Mar 1995, p.2B]

Director Charles Martin Smith presents the kind of movie that gives squeaky-clean a good name.

The weight of Carlos' world shows on his rugged face, even with rare half-smiles. This is a masterfully understated performance that should be remembered during awards season.

It's silly, derivative and too wacky for its own narrative good; traits that the director and Proft wear like a Congressional Medal of Honor. But it's also the funniest 86 minutes I've spent in a movie theater since, well, Hot Shots! Anybody else ready for Part Trois?

Scott briskly blends the high-minded stuff with impressive boo-and-goo sequences, ratcheting tension in tight spots and dark caverns.

Renoir is beautifully filmed and scored, yet with the emotional pull of watching exquisitely textured oil paint dry.

Nobody dies softly here; they're mutilated, splattered in blood and vomit, set up by people who'll get theirs soon.

Alexander Payne has a great idea with Downsizing and doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

Forbes' screenplay is fuller of humor than the topic might suggest, and Ruffalo as usual is imminently watchable, in a uniquely feel-good movie.

Fury reeks of self-importance, a strange arrogance for a fictional World War II drama drenched in more blood than ideas.

The cast is delightful top to bottom, although Arterton's role is chiefly defined by seductive smiles and the rise of her cut-off shorts. Allam and Cooper are standouts, creating hormonally despicable characters getting more of Tamara's attention than they deserve.

Chastain plows through this tangled scenario with an icy ferocity that's entertaining. You get the feeling that Miss Sloane would work better as a streaming or cable series, allowing more time to explore characters and issues, giving actors more room for dense dialogue. Maybe come up with a better way out of that corner.

Never thought I'd type this about a comic book movie, but Ant-Man needs to take itself more seriously.

With Mock 1, the Hunger Games franchise continues to entertain and evolve, not perfectly but smartly, so we can't wait to see what's next. That's what counts when all is said, done and deposited in the bank.

What Sirens does have is a refreshingly uninhibited attitude toward sex and the human body, tastefully embodied by supermodel Elle MacPherson and others. Sirens is consistently enjoyable, but one-sided political views, live-action pictorials and feathery jokes make it no better than a decent issue of Playboy - eye-catching and ultimately disposable. [29 March 1994, p.6B]

This is first and foremost Murray's show, and the shortcomings in Melfi's script and direction are strangely appreciated. They give this singular comedian, who doesn't do it often enough these days, the room to let his buffalo heart roam.

Director Baltasar Kormakur (2 Guns) essentially made a faux documentary with big stars and better lighting.

The Hangover Part III is more like "Beverly Hills Cop," a generic crime flick improved by comical touches that shouldn't fit the proceedings.

It’s a theme park ride but not the rollercoaster Spielberg hopes. More like It’s a Small Virtual World, careening through gamer nirvana, jerking viewers to and fro among everything Gen X retro.

Buying a ticket to see It Could Happen to You is like purchasing a Lotto ticket with three matching numbers; you get back a little more than you paid for it, but the thrill is quickly replaced by nagging thoughts of what might have been.

Vittorio Storaro's cinematography is superb, casting gauzy glows and sensual silhouettes against impressively designed sets. Allen drops a few philo-cynical lines worthy of his reputation but not nearly enough.

Carnahan didn't make a movie unfit for mankind but it certainly isn't worth mankind's money.

Turner cuts a hilarious swath across the screen in a courageously over-the-top performance that perfectly fits Waters' twisted vision. [15 Apr 1994, p.6]

Kids isn't a cure, it's a symptom of mercenary moviemaking. Some will call it heroic, but that's just a smug synonym for exploitation. [25 Aug 1995, p.9]

It's the nicest Mother's Day gift available at the movies this weekend.

Woo's film has an exciting look and visceral feel that is unique in Western filmmaking. If nothing else, it should increase video rentals of Woo's foreign films and make a ton of money for those happy capitalists at Universal Pictures.

Roger Michell's revival of My Cousin Rachel is a graceful note amid summer's movie din, adapting Daphne du Maurier's black widow mystery with class bordering on defiance.

The next step in Matthew McConaughey's inevitable march to network television is The Lincoln Lawyer, a pilot disguised as a feature-length movie, with an entire season's arc crammed into two hours.

David Hare's screenplay based on Lipstadt's book is intrinsically stacked toward her eventual triumph, with each familiar step worth watching.

It's all more extravagant yet less charming then before.

It's the only chance for small children to drag parents to the movies until November, so knock yourself out, kiddies.

Atomic Blonde is a rare case of a woman toplining an action flick, but it hardly feels revolutionary.

It's an audacious mashup that Baz Luhrmann would approve, lending freshness to Tolstoy's too-often-told tale.

It works because Timberlake and Kunis are totally in control of their damaged characters without winking at the audience, as if to say: "Aren't we cute, behaving so naughty?" Their sex is amusingly awkward, and their repressed longings more so. It's the kind of chemistry that comes along once in a generation.

Maverick has everything going for it except a sense of cinematic adventure and a stopwatch. [20 May 1994, p.6]

The River Wild is simply a terrific nail biter, with the same constant, misleadingly tranquil jeopardy that give whitewater rafters such a charge. [30 Sep 1994, p.6]

The Jungle Book is rich with stunning sights and impossibly lush features. [23 Dec 1994, p.16]

Tampa Bay wears fringe nihilism well, including wet-fever dreams of trigger-happy angels floating on cannabis clouds and dusted with cocaine like beignets waiting to be licked clean. Or drug gangstas sporting cornrows and gold-grill teeth, living large and thinking three-ways. Film as a fetish tool, that's what Spring Breakers is all about, y'all.