Intruders promises much but delivers relatively little.

Horror comedies can be wildly entertaining -- "The Return of the Living Dead," from 1985, for instance. It sends up horror movies in hilarious fashion while still managing to be gross-out scary. The Revenant never rises to that level. Nor does it seem to want to.

I appreciated the effort Delpy, directing her sixth feature, puts forth in trying to spice up the genre. But that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.

There's a surface elegance that might play as depth in smaller doses, but at feature length, the stylistic flourishes seem to be covering for deficiencies rather than servicing the material.

Citizen Koch is undisciplined and depressing, yet still strangely worthwhile.

Butter is funny in spots, but it's so preoccupied with landing below-the-belt cultural jabs that it misses the opportunity for laying out biting social commentary.

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.

It’s a movie devoid of storytelling momentum, conflict and, worst of all, much in the way of laughs.

Any film that reminds us that the work for equality is far from done is traveling a worthy path. This one just could have done it better.

There’s nothing wrong with a thriller leaving some loose ends. But Deep Water trips over them too often.

Delivery Man means well, but it’s innocuous to the point of non-existence. In trying to please everyone, the film runs the risk of pleasing no one.

I could see The Woman in the Window becoming a kind of channel-surfing cult classic. But not as long as Rear Window is out there somewhere, too.

It’s not like the first film was some sort of idiot-comedy version of “Citizen Kane” or something. But that film played like a good buzz. The Binge 2: It’s a Wonderful Binge plays more like the hangover that comes after.

The cast is impressive, and again, Bridges is always a welcome presence.

The struggle between faith and reason somehow gets sidetracked, resulting in a sometimes silly, too-obvious journey.

Me Before You is enjoyable in places, and Claflin eventually gives his character some depth beyond simply being angry. But the film exists mostly as a tear-production delivery system.

Sizemore seems to be operating in his own dimension outside the confines of the film and script, just doing whatever he wants. That's not a compliment. Mills' direction is the movie's high point. It's assured, and he stages scenes with skill.

Plenty of families harbor resentments, but the goings-on here become ridiculous. Which is too bad, because Cold Turkey has the seeds of a good movie.

It is a somber slog through the lives of one miserable wretch after another.

It feels flat, disjointed, with too many moving parts.

Racer and the Jailbird, the inelegantly translated title of “Le Fidele,” is a first-rate caper movie. It’s also a pretty good romance. And a boring, suffocating melodrama.

At its best Power Rangers plays a little like a low-rent “Breakfast Club.” Unfortunately it’s not always at its best, and when it’s not, you get exactly what you’d expect: generic teen hero fare.

The Kitchen requires Scorsese levels of charisma to work, and only McCarthy comes close out of sheer professionalism.

There are some funny bits and a welcome shot of new blood, but there’s not a lot of overwhelming evidence for this movie’s need to exist.

Suffice it to say that it's something that would make Austin Powers blush, baby, but it's not supposed to be funny.

Patricia Clarkson is kind of funny as Jamie's mom, an unreformed hippie. And Timberlake and Kunis get in a few good laughs before it's over. But with such a well-worn story, you can't shake the idea you've seen this kind of thing before.

There is a sort of unintentional campy fun to be had in places. Just don't go in expecting much, in other words, and perhaps you'll live happily ever after.

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.

If you like watching people drive really nice cars really fast, Need for Speed scratches that particular itch. But expect nothing more, because everything else about it is just running on empty.

It wouldn’t make the movie good, but at least a meteor strike would preclude the possibility of a sixth “Ice Age” film.

Seriously, the movie is pretty awful, but Johnson, as ever, seems to be having a ball, even when he’s all serious and concerned and shot up and beaten up and building-dropped-upon.

The film winds up being a collection of striking visuals without any emotional heft.

Not that inarticulate characters can't be compelling if they are written with subtlety, acted with insight and, most of all, framed by a directorial vision, but Hellion, despite a promising debut from Wiggins, falls short in at least two of the above.

There's nothing surprising or fresh about these people, their problems or their pairing, each character fitting snugly into his or her familiar archetype.

There’s so much bouncing around in tone and story that this film never really finds its footing. It flounders around trying to figure out what it should be, and never really settles on anything.

While the movie does have some of the twists and turns audience members want in a thriller, they're all sluggishly drawn out.

There is a lot of yelling and emoting and it all gets strident very quickly — as in, the first 10 minutes. Hogan keeps everything self-consciously quirky, with lots of bright primary colors all over the place, but it feels like wild overkill.

There are a few laughs here and there, along with a couple of jokes for grown-ups uncomfortably squeezed in. But this is a movie made for two groups: small children and people who have fond memories of the TV show.

What the movie needs is a more coherent story. While keeping an audience off-kilter and disoriented is a worthy goal, particularly in a horror film, it’s got to add up to something. In this case it’s more like meandering.

Forever My Girl is a bad movie, pure and simple. And pure and simple is just how writer and director Bethany Ashton Wolf likes it.

Kevin Kline makes a terrific Errol Flynn. He just picked the wrong movie to prove it.

It's paper thin, floating away when it's over without leaving a strong impression one way or another.

It is the cinematic equivalent of a greeting card: Both the sentiment and the laughs are plentiful, cheap and forgettable.

Crowe can be a great storyteller, a terrific director whose characters make us believe in them and in what they're doing. That doesn't happen in Aloha, which famously means hello and goodbye. Stick with the latter definition here.

It's stupid, then it veers toward the absurd, but with James at its center it remains sort of sweet throughout. You can't hate James or the movie; both are just sort of dopey but well-meaning.

Without a buttress of cleverness, Cooties is mere freewheeling idiocy.

It’s a matter of pacing and choices, what Penna chooses to focus on and what he ignores. He’s got all the elements of a good movie right in front of him. He just never puts all the pieces together.

Awash in mawkish sentimentality, Dear John still will move you deeply - if you're a 12-year-old girl.

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

It takes effort to turn a movie with a cast as appealing as the one in The Longest Week into a grating exercise in narcissism, but writer and director Peter Glanz proves up to the task.

Oyelowo and Mara try to bring humanity and tension to the testimonial thriller of two lost souls finding their way together, but they only succeed in bursts, hampered by marketing copy masquerading as dialogue.

For all its energy, razzle-dazzle and whiz-bang technology, it doesn't know how to tell a simple story or cobble together three-dimensional characters, and that's a problem not even the best of 3-D glasses can fix.

Paranoia is ostensibly a thriller, but there’s nothing remotely thrilling about it. This slick, plodding bore is as exciting as watching somebody else tap out text messages.

This is a talented cast working for a talented director in a film that never reaches the heights it should have.

Inexpert execution, lazy attention to detail and a lackluster lead performance conspire to render a juicy mystery rather boring.

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.

It’s too bad that these maternal figures aren’t given much more to do except worry about their progeny in “The Son.”

The story is a grab bag of only-in-the-movies kid problems and ridiculous adult behavior.

The finale's energy level and actor buy-in makes it vastly more enjoyable than the rest of the film.

True enough, she's trying to do the right thing. But she never quite gets there. And that gets old, making "Ramona" wear out its welcome long before it should have.

So sickeningly sweet dentists should show it in their waiting rooms to ensure business, the film just isn’t very good, even by treacly holiday film standards.

This brand of gonzo journalism was effective in Moore’s 1989 debut about Flint and General Motors, “Roger & Me,” but it has long since devolved into self-parody.

Innocence is a misguided little horror film, reminiscent of one of those cheesy '70s made-for-TV movies that kind of, sort of seem scary when you're 9 but are just dopey at any other age.

There are some laughs, sure, but not enough. It was funny the first time. This is the second time, and returns diminish accordingly.

There’s no rescuing Non-Stop from its own worse impulses. The likable Neeson’s implausible second act as an action star continues, but not in a believable direction.

There’s daring in the film’s slow unfurling. The problem, though, isn’t one of patience but of payoff. Woodshock is beautiful but it’s all chassis, a root-dead tree that crumbles beneath the ax.

Not that there’s anything wrong with raunch. But in the Judd Apatow era of raunch-coms, Anders’ version is pretty weak tea.

The Lone Ranger is a frustrating exercise in overkill, a kind-of, sort-of interesting idea buried in summer-movie excess.

Ultimately, and perhaps most disappointingly, The Mummy winds up being not so much its own movie as what, by the end, feels like the first episode of a show that's already been renewed for several seasons. Because, in some respects, that's what it is.

The movie is a big disappointment, because ultimately Slender Man does not get the full-on creep-out treatment such an intriguing character deserves. Here he's just a generic horror bad guy, doing standard horror-bad-guy things. He could be anything, really, and therefore winds up, like the movie, being not much.

Movie-release schedules are set by studios months in advance, and many are the movie that had the misfortune to open at an inopportune time. But Hotel Mumbai is responsible for myriad other poor creative decisions that make a spectacle of misery.

The lyrical book is filled with touches of magical realism. On the other hand, the movie is sorely lacking in both magic and realism. It’s all very empty and blah.

Blended is an Adam Sandler movie that isn't as bad as you feared it would be.

The story of her life is pretty well-known. But in Diana, it’s not particularly well told.

There are a couple of good performances and a few funny bits, but mostly the film just bounces back and forth until coming to a flat, trite close.

You hate to see a good cast wasted, but when it comes to 5 Flights Up, the verdict is: no sale.

Depp's performance is still one of the few bright spots in the movie. Richards is back, too, in an all-too-brief appearance as Sparrow's father.

The intentions were probably noble, but the execution not so much.

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.

It’s often cloying, absurdly melodramatic, and the premise exists largely as a tear-manufacturing device.

Rebel in the Rye is Hollywood regular Danny Strong’s feature-film directorial debut, and it fumbles for a voice in tracking the life of a writer renowned for his.

Typically actors like Winslet and Elba can elevate even the most-pedestrian material, but making this story better would require a feat of superhuman strength.

Austenland plays out like an overly elaborate excuse to have people act silly in corsets and bloomers.

The movie has its moments (some of the songs are fun, as always), but like Plankton’s efforts at taking over the world, it’s ultimately a disappointment.

It's a slight movie that makes "Broadcast News" look like "All the President's Men" in comparison.

Some movies are kind of fake good — at first blush they seem to have all the ingredients in place to be successful. But on further inspection, it’s all a trick. That’s the kind of movie this is.

That it chooses to waste a capable cast of mature actors by trotting out tired sex jokes as the enfeebled old men plot the world's most needlessly convoluted bank heist solves the mystery of why it took the film two years to limp its way to American cinemas.

A lot of talent comes up empty in Red Lights, a thriller that doesn't thrill.

For 90 minutes we’re presented with idiot characters who do terrible things to themselves and each other, and in its final gasp the movie tries to retrofit them into heroes.

The film has so much potential, but it's a shame that it all falls flat.

The problems with the narrative begin early. [Review of re-release]

Unfortunately, while the swami taught his disciples to explore the depths of their very souls, the film barely scratches the surface of his life and teachings.

Among the many historical documentaries on Israel there are to choose from, this one is tantamount to two hours of footnotes.

An ever-changing obstacle course does sustain its own kind of tension, but it’s not like there’s a real puzzle to solve, nor any arc to the plot. The movie is just a succession of scary stuff happening, haunted-ride-style.

The worst thing about What to Expect When You're Expecting, director Kirk Jones' fictionalized film version, is how fake it is, how cartoonish the experiences.

At least it could have been fun-bad, not just boring-bad.