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.