Dopey but charming.

Neither good nor terrible.

It loses steam once the wraiths become fully visible: they're just not scary enough.

As the characters behave with symbolic excess in situations designed to provoke their bigotry and self-interest, superficial black comedy periodically gives way to painful drama.

The only characters in this formulaic crime comedy that I halfway liked were a couple of barely glimpsed wives, but the two leads keep it going through sheer determination.

As soon as it became clear that this remake has nothing to do with real Georgia moonshiners and everything to do with car chases, smashups, and explosions, I could sit back and enjoy it as good, stupid fun.

Pretentious, boring, and consistently uninvolving, this effort by producer Robert Evans and director William Friedkin to make comebacks with an incoherent Joe Eszterhas script simply won't wash.

Ultimately the movie is alluring and respectful--its sadness may be what saves it from becoming sensationalist or trite.

A smart script by Gail Parent (Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman) boosts the first half of this comedy.

The only thing that really amused me was a subplot involving music and video piracy.

This is dumb, raunchy, and obvious, but it's also pretty funny, and delivered with the gusto of a Redd Foxx monologue.

Alexa Vega, having graduated from the "Spy Kids" franchise, seems too poised to be vulnerable but too young for all her makeup.

Some of the precise meanings of this Bill Forsyth comedy eluded me, but the vibes couldn't have been nicer.

As modern rom-coms go, this is trite but relatively painless.

Considering the degree to which Fatal Attraction and Basic Instinct are already self-parodies, writer David O'Malley and director Carl Reiner don't have to do much to show how silly they are; in order to understand how silly this movie is, on the other hand, all you have to do is sit through it.

There's something to be said for letting a comic book adaptation operate at the level of a comic book--i.e., with cheap laughs and ice-cold sadism.

Nicely paced but so fluffy it threatens to waft away.

The stoy makes no sense, and the two lead characters are repulsive, but I must confess I laughed immoderately at this clever piece of junk.

Even likable star Zach Braff can't salvage this clunker.

The film is far too appreciative of its own jokes to let the audience discover anything on its own.

Though it isn't so much funny as clever, the parody will hopefully discourage some aspiring teen-movie makers from doing the same old thing.

This feature debut by writer-director Scott Stewart may sound like an enjoyably goofy theo-horror romp, but it's a serious penance.

This drama, about the three days leading up to the murder, never overcomes its inherent ghoulishness, largely because Chapman, like so many mentally ill people, is a huge bore.

Gamely running through parodies of TV commercials and shows, not to mention Spielberg, Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Selznick, and Gandhi, the movie proves to be awful by any standards--feeble, corny, and labored in script as well as direction--although the Capracorn of the basic premise occasionally manages to convey a certain sweetness.

Even when his work is at its most contrived, which it certainly is here, writer-director Ron Shelton is the best purveyor of jock humor around.

It's slight but likable, and diverting enough as light entertainment.

A more accurate title might be "Sub-Bad."

Loud, shiny, and critic-proof, this franchise launcher is basically Transformers minus the humanity. Dennis Quaid provides some ballast as grizzled patriarch to the troop of sexy young lock-and-loaders.