If you close your eyes you’d think it was a commercial for a “Great Love Songs” DVD collection.

A pleasant, thin, hammerlocked movie about the pleasures of breaking free - it's the Cliff Notes version of anarchic classics like ''Bringing Up Baby'' or ''What's Up, Doc?'' Should you want to take the graduate course, you'll find those films at your video store.

The concept is derivative of about a dozen other movies and their sequels.

In short, the financial crisis and social upheaval of 1930s France never looked so appealing.

Seeing her (Schilling) and Efron fumble at each other is like watching a stick of butter and a bag of flour not turn into a cake.

The film’s so formulaic your 6-year-old will be ticking off the plot points as they lope by.

The big surprise is that none of these talented voice actors bring anything new or interesting to their one-dimensional roles.

Fired Up feels like everybody's first time doing anything - writing, acting, directing, cheerleading.

Moore shows newsreel footage of Hitler delivering a speech. Only it’s not Hitler’s voice we hear. It’s Trump’s. Get it? Sure you do, and as you do the documentary slips the surly bonds of sanity — even of agitprop — to enter a realm of its own polemical making. Words cannot do justice to such an editorial decision. Well, maybe five can: intellectually null and morally contemptible.

Ball's trying to be honest about adolescent coming of age, but since he's dishonest about everything else, the movie collapses in on itself.

The Cutting Edge plays like the kind of date movie written by a computer, and not a very smart one...It makes shaved ice look deep. [27 March 1992, p.29]

It can’t be easy to turn the story of Hawaii’s last royal into a waxworks parade, but writer-director Marc Forby has pulled it off.

It's a neighborhood comedy for kids that squanders the high energy of a group of young actors on a stubbornly unimaginative script. [25 July 1997, p.C5]

There's no getting around the fact that it's an uneven exercise that shows signs of having gestated too long. [04 Jun 1999]

Leviathan may be mediocre, unoriginal, boring and nauseating, but it probably won't be the worst sci-fi we'll see this year. [17 Mar 1989, p.46]

Sorvino can't pass for a man, but that's beyond the point in this rarefied situation. She's beautiful and she can usually act, but here the only convincing thing she projects is fatigue from running around the garden all day.

The Messengers is textbook, and the course it's teaching is HSL: Horror as a Second Language.

The action is mostly witless and predictable. One measure of its desperation and lack of respect for its audience is the frequency with which it labors to wring humor from flatulence and excrement gags.

Handsomely shot and with a likable lead in Kuno Becker, it also suffers from a script so outrageously generic you could buy it at Costco.

Dumbed down, tarted up, and almost shockingly uninspired, it's the worst superhero movie since "Green Lantern."

Zwigoff's overdue for a turkey, in other words. Art School Confidential is it.

Hits mostly flat notes, then a few really sour ones.

Lila is all come-ons without any charm.

Tawdry, trashy yawn-fest that makes the viewer long for the days when bad girls were dangerous dames with sultry style.

Contains nothing original or over-the-top enough to make it a real scream fest. For most horror fans it will be kind of a snooze.

An overstuffed turkey that's entertaining for all the wrong reasons.

What’s interesting about Vacation is that it holds on to the original’s acrid cynicism for the first 40 minutes or so before turning predictable and bland. There are some real, nasty laughs to be had here, but they’re front-loaded.

The thrill of the ridiculousness is gone. So is all the mystery that made Statham so appealing in the first place.