Susan Wloszczyna

Sinbad steers First Kid past mediocrity. [30 Aug 1996]

There's much mumbo-jumbo about past lives and symbolic tattoos, but who cares when you can gaze at a sight as lovely as a dirigible floating in the night sky?

My diagnosis of why Morgan malfunctions as a chilling plunge into blood-splattered mayhem is that, before the midway point, it is pretty obvious what the eventual outcome and supposed big reveal will be. This is not the fault of the actors necessarily — there are highly respected talents involved here. It is just that we have seen most of this unfold before.

Proves to be a kind of career rehab for Dad.

Director Jonathan Lynn has had his hits (My Cousin Vinny) and stinkeroos (Greedy). This falls in between. [29 Mar 1996, p.4D]

The concept is so hypocritical, it's like Britney Spears calling Christina Aguilera underdressed and overexposed.

Yummy yet empty.

Regard it also as a well-intentioned clunker. [10 July 1991, p.4D]

The nasty, overlong and undisciplined sourball of a sex farce about a mother-daughter con team will nonetheless satisfy bigenerational libidinous fantasies.

I can’t say this is the best film you will see all year, but I can assure you won’t see another one like it again for a long time.

While no one is going to mistake The Hitman’s Bodyguard for high art, it will please those in the mood for late-summer fun.

Writer/director Chris Columbus (Mrs. Doubtfire) delivers his usual slapstick and sap shtick, but the sitcom-slick results fall flat. (It's also based on a French farce - bad sign.) [12 July 1995, p.1D]

Oscar is a marathon of running gags, but few cross the finish line. [26 Apr 1991, p.4D]

Instead of building upon the welcome openness of that potentially healing father-son encounter, Max stumbles through some iffy crime-thriller territory and ends up pushing its PG rating to its limit.

It’s enough to make H.G. Wells roll his eyes as he rolls in his grave.

Director Stephen Norrington is more keen on finding new ways to explode the fiends... than developing a credible story. So the movie flits from one gore-laden assault to another with little suspense.

It is less of a horror flick and more of a suspense thriller with sci-fi elements that possesses both brains–some sacrificed in messy fashion, of course–and a heart, as it makes a statement about an imaginary social issue that reflects those conflicts facing our country today.

Predator 2 won't be the worst turkey at theaters this Thanksgiving. But it certainly gobbles loud and often enough. Its makers - whose previous smash-crash hash includes 48 HRS., Die Hard and both Lethal Weapons - go to great lengths to camouflage this bird with ultra-violent dressing. The plot is one bloody showdown after another, on rooftops or in subway cars. [21 Nov 1990, p.2D]

This isn't art, it's commerce. [20 Nov 1992, p.1D]

Works best as a ponderous metaphor for life's uncertainties. As a lighthearted comedy, the force, alas, is not with it. [19 March 1999, Life, p.13E]

Dr. Dolittle does do a lot of stuff right. [ 26 June 1998, p. 12 E]

The best romantic comedies intoxicate like vintage champagne. Picture Perfect, on the other hand, is like a wine spritzer. Insubstantial and oversweet, it still refreshes as a midsummer brain cooler. [1 August 1997, p. 3D]

Instead of hip, though, Tank Girl is prefab and purified, a calculated cult attraction. It's Danger by Mattel, and Petty, in her ripped stockings and torpedo bra, is a cyber-Barbie. This is one chick flick that at least has bite. Too bad its teeth are false. [3 Apr 1995, p.4D]

A gentler adjunct to the dumb-buddy craze that's mostly inoffensive, save for a gratuitous bong-smoking scene. [31 Mar 1995, p.4D]

This warm-weather variation on the original, once again set in a small Minnesota town, is in dire need of Geritol. Or a dose of ginseng. Or Ex-Lax. Anything to get things moving faster than this turgid replay. [22 Dec 1995, p.3D]

Imagine what would happen if Andy of Mayberry transferred to New Mexico, adopted Barney Fife's delusions of trigger-happy grandeur and went undercover for the federal government. That's the gist of White Sands, an intriguing but muddled game of cross and double-cross...For the first 10 minutes or so, this thriller directed by Roger Donaldson (No Way Out) is a knockout. [24 Apr 1992, p.4D]

In the annals of sexually-charged event cinema, Fifty Shades of Grey barely lights a candle let alone combusts with unbridled forbidden passion.

Douglas prances and chants with crimson-haired tribesmen who look like they were styled by Dennis Rodman. He talks a good game. (Why does he kill? "Because I've got a gift.") But he is trapped by the same undernourished script as the rest of the cast. Secondary characters are fleshed out so little, they should simply wear labels that say "kitty snacks." [11 Oct 1996]