I like a lot of the film despite its drawbacks; its violence isn't rote or numbing, and there's a simplicity and elegance to the digital-countdown effect.

The Joy Luck Club may be stylistically rickety, but Wang does a good job with the logistics of the movie, integrating multiple time periods, dialogue in two languages (English and Mandarin), two locations (San Francisco and China) and overlapping casts - several characters require two and even three actors to play them at different ages - to make a watchable whole. This is not a movie to be watched lackadaisically. Blink twice and you could lose the train of narration. [17 Sept 1993, p.C]

The cast is enjoyable, with Jason Segel (as Gulliver's lil' pal, Horatio) and Emily Blunt (the local princess) a witty cut above for this sort of thing.

The film moves along, in its paradoxically static way, at a pretty fair clip. I look forward to Green's follow-up.

One imagines that fans of Chase and Aykroyd will be mildly pleased with the results. As political humor, though, Spies is an uneasy blend of seriousness and farce--a picture whose antiwar theme seems designed to let its makers cash their paychecks and, at the same time, feel good about themselves. [06 Dec 1985, p.A]

John Sayles has directed an authentic looking and sounding film, featuring cinematography by the great Haskell Wexler. [02 Oct 1987, p.A]

There are times when the facile flimsiness of Hello I Must Be Going threatens to float right off the screen. But Lynskey has her ways of surprising us, even when nothing in the script itself is doing so.

With scanty and thin characterization and a twist you can see coming from miles away, 21 Bridges just doesn't make it all the way to the other side.

A real sentimental journey -- and luckily they've got both the right director (Darabont) and the right actor to squeeze our heartstrings.

As much as I admire the work of both (Roman) Polanski and (Jack) Nicholson, I found Chinatown tedious from beginning to just before the end. [15 July 1974]

Down in the Delta's large heart is certainly in the right place, but it is beating just a bit too slowly. [25 Dec 1998, p.S]

This often entertaining movie mixes grand, epic effects and amazing visualizations of catastrophe with a sappy family-in-crisis plot that would look hackneyed in a '60s Disney TV movie.

The actors are more or less saving this franchise's bacon. Insurgent is a tick or two livelier than the first one.

It’s a colorful, cuckoo-crazy, sometimes funny, often bewildering experience, to which you slowly become numb with every incongruous shot of Leonard the pig’s round, green butt. Come to think of it, it’s the kind of entertainment that could only be enhanced with a little green.

It's a cute romantic comedy, just as Shakespeare intended.

It's an up-and-down movie, honest one minute and a fraud the next, but you stick with it mainly because of Hahn.

For my taste, too much of the new Powers looks like bad TV and sounds like old burlesque.

Entertaining as much of Avengers 2 is, especially when it's just hanging out with the gang in between scuffles (the "Guardians of the Galaxy" lesson, learned), Whedon’s picture meets expectations without exceeding them.

The stunt work and special effects are top flight; Schwarzenegger and the kid are just fine, but we can't help but want this film to stop kidding around and thrill us. [18 Jun 1993, p.C]

This prequel offers Bumblebee a chance to shine, and you'll come away with a newfound sense of affection for the most lovable alien vehicle in the universe.

The title of The Hunting Party doesn’t evoke much in particular. “War Correspondents Gone WILD!” would be more like it if the film itself--messy, but fairly stimulating--had more of the scamp in its soul.

Walken seems to run on his own alternative fuel source - he's always easier to observe than to understand - which makes him the natural villainous hero for Abel Ferrara's seedy King of New York, a film more interested in leaving impressions than spinning a smooth narrative. [11 Dec 1990, p.9]

Kenneth Branagh's earnest adaptation of Shakespeare's serious comedy about love is undone by, of all things, Branagh's enthusiasm for this material to be joyful. He practically busts through the screen in an effort to please. His wife, Oscar-winner Emma Thompson, is more restrained as his dueling lover and creates a more credible character. [21 May 1993, p.C]

Wasikowska is a fine, intriguing actress, though I'm not sure anyone could make actual psychological sense of this woman. Nobody on screen — not Kidman, not Goode, not Wasikowska, not Jacki Weaver as Auntie Gin — seems entirely at home in the chosen (or guessed-at) style.

The biggest factor working against Mouse Hunt may be its chilliness. Like some of the Coen brothers' work, it's so stylized that it often keeps you at an arm's length instead of sucking you into its whirlwind.

Ambitious, yes. Does it work? Not really. While it's genuinely cool to hear characters talk about early rap records (Sugar Hill Gang, etc.), the constant referencing of hip-hop arcana can alienate even the savviest audiences.

The original “Mary Poppins” was exuberant, fueled by terrific Sherman brothers songs. Mary Poppins Returns is often just pushy.

So how's this "Thor" sequel? It's fairly entertaining. Same old threats of galaxy annihilation, spiced with fish-out-of-water jokes.

It's stylish, it's sort of smart, it's full of misplaced talent. But it's not funny enough, and maybe, in a way, not dark enough either.

The Belly of an Architect is less a movie than a filmed script--it lacks the sense of surprise and discovery of a world freshly unfolding before the camera that makes the cinema come alive--but it remains an intelligent, provocative effort. [14 May 1987, p.7N]

It is a family-friendly, seasonal, nondenominational holiday movie option, but it’s more fun to pick out what makes this a Mike White project, and his influence gives it a slight edge over the rest, making Migration a worthwhile journey.

Until a leaden third act, it IS reasonably entertaining.

It's when Spielberg stops trying to think so hard that Munich works best. Though some of the assassination scenes feel a little too choreographed, more "West Side Story" than "Bourne Identity."

There is enough material to provide grins and, sometimes, guffaws. Along the way, there are jokes and sight gags involving convenience-store robberies, ocean debris, dandruff commercials, Bartlett's "Familiar Quotations," frequent-flyer miles, Nazis, Ninja Turtles, Oprah, Mike Tyson and Mr. Potato Head. And, of course, the favorite targets of this particular genre: mimes and doughnut-eating cops.

Never regains its raw power once the sultry Unger retreats from the front seat of her Chevy to the privacy of her suburban bedroom.

The musical voices belong to Billy Joel and Bette Midler, respectively, but this material is far afield of their best work. As a result, a Chihuahua (voice by Cheech Marin) steals the movie with wisecracks. [18 Nov 1988, p.A]

The story is resolved a bit too easily, but that works for the world of the film, which is sanded down, buffed out, a bucolic, "Steel Magnolias"-inspired fantasy land of wide front porches, charming flower shops and the mega-famous rock stars that wander into them.

Who's That Girl? is sunny and harmless. Perhaps it's indicative that feminist hostility is taking a milder turn. Or perhaps the genre has gone Hollywood. [09 Aug 1987, p.6C]

Like so many of his movies, Redacted is difficult to watch but queasily fascinating.

Having carefully and sensitively drawn an interesting character and put him in an interesting place, the filmmakers start painting with their fingers and ultimately provide a very familiar picture.

Something has gone slightly awry, however, en route from the 11-minute film to the 79-minute edition of 9.

It’s nearly impossible not to respond to The Color Purple and Celie’s odyssey, in any version. But it’s also possible to wish for a movie that felt more like real life, and real lives, in all their emotional colors, without so much showbiz.

It's a tribute to Penn's talent and guts that he manages to bring it off--even if the movie doesn't.

Ambitious but hokey melodrama...It's a beautiful looking film, but only the supporting characters are believable. Beatty and Diane Keaton are miscast and never disappear into their characters. [25 Dec 1981]

Nine to Five is a film full or surprises - some pleasant, other disappointing. The most pleasant surprise is the appearance of Dolly Parton, who with this one film establishes herself as a thoroughly engaging movie star. The biggest disappointment is that this Jane Fonda comedy about a trio of secretaries out to get their boss doesn't have more bite. [19 Dec 1980, p.2-1]

In the third story, set in Asheville, N.C., that excellent actress Hunt guides us steadily through what could be a minefield of sentimentality.

Modest and good-looking, the film starts as dark comedy and ends in pathos. Director Alvarez makes the Oregon scenery a character unto itself.

The best thing in Diggers, besides the close-up of the back end of the Vista Cruiser, is the interplay between Rudd and Tierney. They really do seem like brother and sister, adults yet not entirely grown up.

I wouldn’t mind seeing Ferrari again sometime just for Cruz, and for a few of Mann’s most gratifying examples of classical Hollywood technique, done his way. The movie reinvents no wheels. But it sure knows how to film ‘em.

It's a pretty entertaining, extremely good-looking cinematic blip--not important, not outstanding, but better than a lot of PG stuff that attempts to reach both parents and their 8-year-old kids.

A well-researched and well-illustrated, if often facetious, record of the U.S. government's longtime war on cannabis. And while it's a little too single-minded, it's both fun to watch and quite informative.

Vanessa Kirby of “The Crown” and “Mission: Impossible — Fallout” is the primary reason “Hobbs & Shaw” rises above pure formula and borderline-contemptible familiarity.

There's also nothing here that has much to do with what makes Prior such a powerful artist. [2 Apr 1982, p.3-6]

If its jolts were as strong as its chuckles, The Woman Chaser might really have turned into the cheap-thrill classic it pretends to be.

This is a movie that, for all its often high intelligence and skill, seems emotionally underdone, bogged down in tony literary and cinematic cliches.

The movie slam-jams its overpacked story in a frenetic, needlessly complicated manner. It lacks for nothing in setting and atmosphere but comes up short where it counts: the characters.

I.Q. has a commendable idea. Brains aren't everything. You should follow your heart. Fine. Agreed. But just like E=MC2, you gotta prove it. With brains and heart.

Cross-cutting between son and mother, and their constant efforts to reunite among the carnage, flames and rubble before it’s too late, director McQueen keeps the screws tight, blowing past realism for a trickier realm of historically grounded but highly stylized imagination.

The climax of Transformers contains all that is proficient and slick and all that is drecky and soulless in Bay's work.

The film is reasonably effective all the same, though Affleck has yet to learn how to conduct each scene like a musical score, paying attention to matters of tempo and dynamics.

A Little Help settles for familiar and modest payoffs. It's not much. Yet Fischer clearly relishes the chance to play someone who's a demurely reckless mess.

It's refreshing to hear some old-fashioned percussive tension in service of a director who knows what he's doing. Even when the screenwriter is losing his way.

An estimated 4 million Latinas leave one or more children behind when they travel north to find work. They deserve a more nuanced film, but this one’s often affecting.

Mad props to Peter Zuccarini, who headed the team of ocean-bound photographers and captured some remarkably vivid footage, and also to the actors, who spend plenty of time looking cool, calm and collected swimming with the predatory fishes.

Sports movies are never easy to pull off, but Skolnick does a fine job of balancing the drama with the on-field action.

Girlfight, for its skill and theme, will please many. It's a shame it's no knockout.

For some reason I was under the impression Jim Carrey already made his penguin movie. Doesn't it seem like it?

It's pleasant as far as it goes. For all the blithe interaction among the central three performers, however, the material's conventional and predictable.

FX 2 is entertaining enough, but lacks the zip and wit of the original.

Timberlake is not afraid to make himself look like an idiot. He is, in fact, already the comic actor Diaz may yet become: a looker who knows how to use his looks to get away with murder.

The Vow is agreeable enough. It may be puddin'-headed but it's not soul-crushing.

No period of Italian history has produced more great movies than the WWII years . But, Malena romanticizes and even sentimentalizes those years.

Overall, The Brothers is glossy fun, but it should have given us more ideas and energy.

As a performance vehicle The Drop does the job. As a story, and an uncertainly padded script, the movie lurches and lets us get out ahead of its developments.

Artfully shot and excruciatingly honest, the movie has great intentions but can't quite overcome its outsized sense of self-importance.

It displays a growing sense of fluidity and craft [from Apatow]. ... But much of the script feels oddly dishonest and dodgy.

Able to provide insight into a fascinating part of theater history, spanning from Russia to the New York Catskills.

And it's too bad The Skeleton Twins settles for tidy, slightly hollow narrative developments. The performers are ready to rip. For many they'll be enough.

So stunningly shot and visualized--and scored so hauntingly well by Anja Garbarek, the daughter of saxophonist/composer Jan Garbarek--that it works even if you don't pay attention to the story. Maybe it works better that way.

The actors do a lot to dimensionalize the material. Parker's Chavis is especially sharp, creating a man with a subtly burning fuse.

It's quite thin, but at least Black Rock plays its "kills" for more than stupid gamer's diversions.

The sequel's not bad; it's not slovenly. Some of the jolts are effectively staged and filmed, and Wan is getting better and better at figuring out what to do with the camera, and maneuvering actors within a shot for maximum suspense, while letting his design collaborators do the rest. But Leigh Whannell's script is a bit of a jumble.

McQuarrie... is a real writer; his banter has snap and bite. His directorial skills are still catching up with his writing skills; the movie loses steam in the final half-hour.

Foster's direction, aided by cinematographer Matthew Libatique's sharp, clean light, is the most fluid and well-considered of her career. The script is an asset, too. Until it becomes a mixed-bag liability.

By translating the voluptuous Elizabethan sensibility to the drier post-Edwardian era, and then cutting much of the play's great rhetoric and poetry, McKellen and Loncraine actually flirt with ennui rather than excitement. [19 Jan 1996, p.C]

For all its silliness and negligibility--a finale involving the Parisian "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" is one of its sillier, more negligible elements--My Best Friend is an amusing reinvention of "The Odd Couple."

Thanks to the director, what they do makes for painless “avoidance viewing” — something to kill 100 minutes or so while you’re avoiding something else, delivered in an impersonal but not unskillful manner.

This is a brutally violent reset on the '80s franchise that ultimately became a punchline, but while it goes big on gore and atmosphere, Child's Play doesn't muster up any actual scares.

A classy but over-contrived topical thriller about bomb plots and anti-government groups.

The actors do most of their best work in between the lines. Krieps, especially, provides a subtle symphony of feeling, even as her role confines her to a prescribed range of narrative support. Director Peck’s work is handsome; what it lacks is a true sense of danger, a feeling of history roiling in the present tense.

Has a remote feel. It sometimes impresses but never soars.

Strong, hard, dirty, funny, moving atmospheric and laced with scabrously musical street dialogue.

The movie ends up being just sharp enough at its peaks to be frustrating in its valleys. But the laughs are there.

Crime 101 overstays its welcome and is rife with bland story filler, but there’s no denying that it is handsomely made and rarely boring, offering the nominal pleasures of a good-looking serious adult crime drama, which is all too rare these days.

We know exactly where this picture is going at all times. Holding our attention, however, is a cast of fresh talent among the trainees. [03 Jun 1994]

The movie doesn't really jell. Glossy, good-looking and well-produced, it affects you and even sometimes moves you, but it doesn't really convincingly connect.

So the bad news about The Men's Club is that it leans heavily on cliche; the good news is that it treats the cliche with elan and it doesn't waste a splendid cast. [24 Sept 1986, p.4C]

Take the theatrical flourish away from this story, however, and the story's thinness becomes apparent.