The script, by Bill Dubuque, goes sideways in a hurry. Characters do inexplicable things for no reason other than advancing the plot, and sometimes not even that. There is a jaw-dropping coincidence that is as ridiculous as it is obvious.

The story is the problem here, devolving into a ridiculous situation that produces far more groans than chills or thrills.

Owen and Binoche both are quite good, rising above the material for the most part. But even they can't save the film from itself, or from an ending that's downright bizarre.

Sometimes it’s absurdist comedy. Sometimes it’s dark comedy. Sometimes it’s out-and-out killing-people drama (almost, but not quite). It’s often funny, but it never quite hangs together as a coherent movie.

It’s not a disaster, and it doesn’t lack for ambition. But it’s wildly uneven and kind of blah, if that can be said of a movie with nonstop, often incoherent action, self-aware needle drops and not nearly enough smart-aleck quips from a cast we’ve seen deliver plenty of them in the past.

It’s formulaic. It’s predictable.

Free State of Jones is a well-intentioned slog through a potentially fascinating bit of Civil War history, brought to life only by Matthew McConaughey’s performance, and then only occasionally.

It never really comes together in a satisfying way, and given the talent involved, that adds up to a big disappointment.

There’s a fine line between homage and rip-off, between a clever mashup and a messy pileup of tired tropes. But, much like a rainbow, where that line appears is in the eye of the beholder.

Murray occasionally shows flashes of his comic genius, but only flashes.

Into the Storm plays like a special-effects demonstration in search of a movie, but you have to give it to the filmmakers: They take no half-measures.

The commercials were funny and unexpected. The movie, not so much, although there are some solid laughs.

It's not a total wash. Shaye's performance is reliably good and the sequences set in The Further (the netherworld of the "Insidious" films) have a kicky charge.

Despite its ostensive seriousness, Galveston is a tepid crime drama without talons sharp enough to sink into the audience.

It’s more creepy than scary. But at least, you reckon, this not happening to you.

Part of the problem is that, in trying to convey the chaos of abject fear, Espinosa makes it hard to figure out the architecture of the ship, so we don’t know where anyone’s running.

The Dead Don’t Die isn’t bad, exactly. It’s just that with all this talent and all this beautiful weirdness at hand, it could have been so much better.

The franchise... concludes with a genuinely stirring ending. ... But [Stewart's] acting hasn't improved, and the dialogue remains laughable. Bad actress, bad lines. Bad combination.

A harmless little mess of a movie whose cast you've mostly heard of, including Tim Allen, who also directed.

There are scenes here and there that are worthy, but many that aren't. Lipsky tries to use dialogue to cover up weaknesses in other areas - such as why these people behave the way they do. Some of the movie is inviting, some of it off-putting.

The laughs don’t add up. There’s no dramatic arc. Jackie doesn’t grow or learn from his downfall, so much as bumble his way out of it to an unsatisfying conclusion.

The movie is not uninteresting, but a viewer isn't breathlessly waiting to see how things will wrap up, either. By the third act, you even start to get impatient with the characters. That's not exactly a ringing endorsement.

The Minions themselves aren't as endearing as they are in the previous movies, maybe because there are fewer of them bumbling around, or maybe because they just haven't found their true supervillain love yet. Or maybe some sidekicks, no matter how loveable, just aren't cartoon-hero material

The look of the film is impressive, as are the effects. Overall, however, it's a big, loud, 3-D-drenched jumble.

An emotionally inert film that never pulls viewers into the spiraling web of deceit that the couple face.

In The Internet's Own Boy, writer-director Brian Knappenberger ("We Are Legion: The Story of the Hacktivists") paints a portrait of Swartz as a martyr for the information age, but ultimately the story falls short of such mythic ambition.

About My Father isn’t horrible. It’s not great. It just sort of exists as a passion project for Maniscalco, an OK gig for most of the rest of the cast and another curious line on De Niro’s resume.

Joe Bell is a well-meaning film with a gripping story it can’t quite figure out how to tell.