This film adaptation feels like YA, with cat’s-cradle love matches, soft-focus sexuality, and a main character who never satisfactorily makes the transition from page to screen.

Ready to Wear is to filmmaking what paper dresses were to fashion -- thin, trendy, and disposable.

This is definitely one My Hero Academia adventure that should go back to the classroom.

But instead of being the hippest kid on the block, this plays like some ranty, paranoid comic thriller. It'd be more fun watching Jimmy Stewart get the beat-down from Claude Rains on the Senate floor; when Mr. Williams goes to Washington, the result is a total snooze.

And for all its artful, high-flying sorcery, Hocus Pocus cannot escape the irons of an all too pedestrian plotline.

Undone by Blanchett's dull, wooden delivery. She's the pap that kills the pulp the rest of the film is bellowing out to be.

While this is no "Clueless," to be sure, it's also, thankfully, no "Born in East L.A."

Would be a much better film had it not relied so heavily on a bombastic soundtrack (by James Newton Howard) for its emotional impact and spared itself some of the more overdone images of campus life.

A gorgeous-looking but ill-conceived mash note to the city of Paris that riffs on its better, wiser, glaringly obvious cinematic predecessors.

In the end, Dominion brings back likable characters and has the good grace to move at a fast clip. It is a testament to how low the bar has gotten that those two elements feel like enough to make it a passable summer movie.

Try as he might to capture the political complexities of their relationship and how it was sacrificed because of the needs for an heir, Scott tells rather than shows (much as Napoleon's much-harped-upon mommy issues turn out to be a narrative and thematic dead end). It's all strategy, no tactics.

It’s impossible to know how much of Tonto’s story is tall tale or historical fact. The tactic undercuts the film’s attempt at revisionism or at best equalizes men of all races as untrustworthy tellers of of their own history. The Lone Ranger stokes the legend but its smoke signals only add to the haze.

No doubt this effort will find its fans, as it should, but there's a lot of lost potential.

The film’s narrative and characters reason that any difficult situation can be solved with blind brute force and a pistol. If you’re looking for a cutting critique of the American addiction industry, look elsewhere.

Despite some clever writing (Widespread Panic jokes never go out of style), a game cast, and a funny critique of the ethics of documentary filmmaking, I Do … Until I Don’t never rises above the trite characters and well-worn scenarios it depicts. Best to get the annulment papers ready.

There's something good-natured, even sweet about this well-meaning affair.

Were it allowed to be dark, Duplex would probably be more interesting, possibly even with cult appeal. Call it a fixer-upper with potential.

Some of the gags seem a bit too labored, and by the time the rather charming ending unfolds, these weaker moments in Hotel de Love may force some viewers to check out early.

The well-chosen voice cast helps make this a fairly engaging tale, even though the film is riddled with a wealth of head-scratching anachronistic errors.

A terrific cast, good pacing and some smart, funny dialogue bring an occasional fresh breeze to what is essentially a stale formula comedy.

Transformers is about as clever as an unplugged blender.

And like most women in bromance comedies, Jones does exactly what she's supposed to do by doing almost nothing.

Brooklyn’s Finest is mo’ wrong than right.

There is great material here and ample food for thought, but the presentation is lacking.

Of course, the selling point of this movie is the boy wonder Culkin, making his first screen appearance since the inexplicable megahit Home Alone. Relegated to a supporting role, Culkin is natural and appealing, a picture of blue-eyed innocence. What a more interesting movie you'd have if it were entitled My Guy.

Mortal Kombat commits the unforgivable sin of actually being boring duing the middle hour of training and exposition. Even when it finally gets into full combat mode, there's no tournament, just a 30 minute throw down between a bunch of vaguely recognizable characters.

Edgar-Jones’ easygoing allure isn’t enough to bind Where the Crawdads Sing together, though, leaving the film a generic, dull outing.

The plot of Kidnap is bizarre and frustrating.