The sad thing is, even for NASA/space fans, a snooze isn't out of the question despite the film's scant 40-minute running time.

Eccentric, miscast (though stimulatingly so), not for all tastes but far from flavorless.

If Licence to Kill has one of Bond`s best heavies, it also has one of his best heroines in Carey Lowell, a strapping brunet who plays an ex-Army pilot reluctantly enrolled on Bond`s side. Lowell`s line readings may be only adequate, but she moves with the grace and vigor an action movie needs.

Movies like First Snow rise or fall on characters and atmosphere, and Fergus gets them both. But though the story's resolution does have irony and even a certain power, it lacks the charge, the Serlingesque "gotcha," that it needs.

Fuqua goes for operatic style and pulp poetics, strung together with a strangely paced and structured plot that’s about as floppy as a spaghetti noodle (the script is once again by Richard Wenk). But the film is not unenjoyable on a purely impressionistic level, as Fuqua and Washington bring the audience along on their Euro trip and ask us simply to sit back, relax and enjoy the ride that is Robert McCall inflicting terror and mayhem on very bad people.

Extracting three generously proportioned films from Tolkien's books made sense. But turning the relatively slim 1937 volume 'The Hobbit' into a trilogy, peddling seven or eight hours of cine-mythology, suggests a better deal for the producers than for audiences.

I doubt even rabid fans of the first two will consider Shrek the Third a worthy addition to the franchise.

The script embraces certain character archetypes wholeheartedly (pig-headed crew mate; ramrod-stiff officer) and not always successfully. Yet the tone, the mood of the picture, with its desaturated color palette, maintains the right atmosphere.

Burt Reynolds stars as a Dirty Harry-style detective who chases after a high-powered pimp in Atlanta. When Reynolds stays in character, the film works well as a straight thriller. When he winks at the audience with his dialog, the film falls apart. [25 Dec 1981, p.12]

Depardieu has so much life on screen, so much bounding energy and insistent physicality, that he almost brings it off.

Explorers offers an attractive premise to a very small payoff.

Surprise! The Hummingbird Project basically works; it’s intriguing; the actors play it just straight enough to make it feel like a fact-based drama (though it isn’t) with a few darkly comic details.

When it works it’s enjoyable; when it doesn’t, it falls into a generic sort of bustle, missing the darker, more troubling layers underneath.

If older kids and adults seek out this picture, which 20th Century Fox and Walden Media clearly aren't sure how to sell, they may well find themselves drawn into a subterranean world of considerable imagination.

Still, it's pretty rich watching Rogen puke all over a Christmas Eve Mass in front of his in-laws.

It’s essentially the Hotel Earle from “Barton Fink,” augmented by the latest in robotic surgical techniques for bullet extraction.

There's no denying that Undisputed delivers the action-movie goods, and so do Snipes and Rhames. It should have been more memorable, but at least it doesn't stumble in the ring.

Both funny and foul, alternately frank and full of it.

Likable as it is, suffers from that modern big-movie vice: overkill.

It's one thing for a script to set the framework for an action film -- it's quite another when the script gets in the way.

McKee, like Amenabar, knows how to position his film against type -- which ultimately makes May a refreshing, macabre tale.

But with 'Jedi,' listen to the creaking, huge metal door that opens and leads the androids C-3PO and R2-D2 to the cave of Jabba the Hutt, where, at the beginning of the film, good-guy space pilot Han Solo is frozen in a carbonite mold like some kind of nouvelle cuisine side dish. It will remind old-time radio listeners of the creaking door of the 'Inner Sanctum' show, and it serves the same purpose. Both are doorways to adventure...And before this portion of the 'Star Wars' saga is history, let us take time to praise the principal performers.

Glib and charming in roughly equal measure.

This medical miracle scene is by far the best in the film. Not because it is sexy or, perish the thought, Zen-like, but because it is pretty hilarious-a bizarre blend of the Marx Brothers, Three Stooges and Keystone Cops, with a little raunch dressing on the side. Unfortunately, the rest of the film is mostly a lot of grunting and groaning.

The movie's great end-title sequence redeems everything. Under the credits, we see and hear the real-life game veterans as they are now--including, movingly, ex-Lakers coach Riley.

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]

A dumb and purposefully cheesy version of the comic strip space hero. Although the film has a few early moments of put-on humor, the story has nowhere to go. Sam Jones is not very bright as Flash. Only Max von Sydow as Ming the Merciless brings any style to the adventure. Only for the juvenile set. [19 Dec 1980, p.10]

Pap, but easygoing pap with a cast you can live with for a couple of hours.

The first-person remembrances hit you where you live, while everything else (including a bland musical score by John Piscitello) often creates the opposite of the intended effect: It keeps you at arm's length from an extraordinary story.

A tough-minded, empathetic portrait of dreamers on the edge.

These lessons in multiculturism and tolerance should fall easily on young viewers only expecting to be entertained. [14 July 1995, p.D]

And although Schreiber's hip, intelligent eye is a nice match for Foer's hip, intelligent pen, his movie strays from its own history, creating instead a world, as Alex would say, that is "once-removed."

Genuinely odd in its mixture of bluntness and indirection, screenwriter Angus MacLachlan's study in biblical temptation is saved from its own heavy-handedness by a fine quartet of actors.

At this point in the life of this ol’ archaeologist, Indy’s theme song has become not just a sound, but practically a sight to behold — even in a movie that isn’t.

Thanks to Grande’s emotional performance, what does shine through is Glinda’s personal story about embracing change, stepping into her own power and defining what it means to be “good,” on her own terms — not because it’s her brand. This is decidedly Glinda’s movie, and that is the one good thing.

She’s spunky and hot-headed, he’s sweet and adorable — if they touch, it could be a disaster, but somehow, their chemistry just works, bringing the charming “Elemental” to a lively roiling boil.

Shines whenever we see the performances of Phoenix and Caan.

Gorlin's fiction, based loosely on his own life, must be better than that of "Frontline." And it's not.

Despite the direction of John Huston, this story of a self-appointed Western judge (Paul Newman) isn't one of anyone's best. [06 Apr 1990, p.71]

Squanders a decent comic premise.

I enjoyed seeing Joss Ackland as well. The veteran character actor with the world’s lowest voice plays the diamond company chairman, and when he rumbles out orders, it’s like Sensurround never left us.

Peter and Michael Spierig's earlier, campier horror outing, the zombie picture known as "Undead," was even bloodier than this one. The movie-makers are after bigger game here, and a subtler mixture of speculative nightmare and action film.

The more this filmmaker can learn about matching his musical taste and invention with cinematic tonal range and control worthy of those sounds, the harder we’ll fall for whatever he does next.

Far less interesting than its premise, primarily because we never know what anyone is really thinking.

Pet Sematary finesses some of the bumpy narrative moments from the original, but where it forges its own path is in rewriting Ellie's story. This is initially intriguing, but it ultimately reveals itself to be the less original choice, relying on horror archetypes and tropes we've seen before.

The script avoids going full-bore as satire. Where it goes instead lacks a purpose, a reason for being, beyond the usual name-checking of "The X-Files" and the like.

In Color Me Kubrick, John Malkovich has one of the roles of his life, and he acts it up like a haughty gourmet who's just picked up a succulent treat.

The direction by first-timer Mark Pellington is competent, as he pretty much allows Wakefield's script to play out without fanfare. [10 Oct 1997]

As much fun as anything director/co-writer Jane Campion has ever filmed. Holy Smoke lets it all hang out.

The movie, done in a classic measured style, finally moves you almost as much as if it had stayed in Kurosawa's hands. Filled with love and melancholy, it's a fitting, fond epilogue to the "sensei" (the master).

Despite its many charms, the title of the film -- both complaint and boast -- makes clear whose point of view this is. Gainsbourg is delightful, intelligent and sexy, but this isn't her film.

Gets under your skin with laughs that are fast, slick and slippery and with visuals as vivid as anything this side of Demerol.

Ends up a few frames short of the perfect horror film, but very few.

Soderbergh and Burns remain exceptionally well-matched collaborators. They’re after just enough human interest to make us care, and just enough socioeconomic outrage to make us seethe — some of us, anyway.

The film's flaws in pacing and suspense are easily overlooked in the shadow of Chastain's moving performance, as well as the performances of those around her. Caro unspools an evergreen tale about the clarifying power of empathy to diffuse fear and hatred.

The message stays firmly on spiritual questions about the circle of life, but doesn't educate or leave the audience with a call to action about how to personally act to protect these animals, and that feels like a missed opportunity.

Frank Sinatra and his Clan knock over Vegas. [07 Dec 2001, p.C1]

There's the script -- and that's the problem.

For me Chastain's unerring honesty is the only element keeping The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby above the realm of pure affectation.

As shrewd and accomplished as the movie is, there's still something uncomfortably manipulative about it... It doesn't explore its primal theme as much as it exploits it, tapping into the automatic, nearly universal power of guilt and regret. [21 Apr 1989, Friday, p.A]

The exhausting slapstick violence is the film's chief variation, and it's no fun at all.

A modernized version of that great sentimental horse movie, 1943's "My Friend Flicka," and it comes with the shiny trappings, high professionalism and glamorous accessories you might expect...Something is missing though.

Coppola has raised the stakes, promising the definitive version of the vampire story. What he has created, however, is fresh and original yet boring, an exercise more in art direction than storytelling. [13 Nov 1992, p. C]

Shares the characters' off-kilter yet human qualities.

The filmmaker's imagination is too rich for Spy Kids 3-D to be written off as a failure. But it's too bad that while the visuals have gained a dimension, the story has lost one.

It's a nice little film, likable but not exceptional, and it will probably appeal most strongly to actors, would be-actors, wannabes and ex-actors.

The last 25 minutes of Thor aren't much better than the first. But that hour in between - tasty, funny, robustly acted - more than compensates.

The filmmakers' instincts may be sound, but Permanent Midnight is no killer. Stahl hated most of what he wrote in his TV heyday. So one really wonders why he, and maybe Stiller, didn't write this script. Surely, it's one script Stahl could have delivered.

Director Charles Martin Smith, an accomplished actor, gets some very good performances from his cast, notably from Mark Price as Eddie and Lisa Orgolini as his girl. (Gene Simmons, of the rock group KISS, has a small part as a radio deejay). In his directorial debut, he shows an attractive visual style and a sure hand for both humor and horror. [27 Oct 1986, p.5C]

The most interesting thing about this slick but frustrating picture is the way it puts Crowe’s Hoffman at the center of our mixed feelings.

The Wedding Guest ultimately just fails to gel into something captivating.

Everything about the film is aggressively provocative, in both senses of the word.

Teeth is about female exploitation and male castration.

Compared with the most recent Disney animated features, "Space Jam" is, at times, a hoot, especially when it has fun with Michael's less-than-stellar baseball career and the way his fellow players were starstruck. [15 Nov 1996, p.A]

The relative success or failure of Adult Beginners, directed with a steady, nonjudgmental hand by Ross Katz, depends on how funny you find Kroll. I find him funny-ish.

A curiously cool, but very intelligent movie. [02 Jan 2000, p.19C]

You might not think of this as a family film, but it is a great one. [27 May 1994, p.B]

Roos does an admirable job balancing the tragedy and comedy, but he bogs down every character with so much baggage that it's impossible to render them honestly without the captions.

Director Godfrey Reggio gives us some ordinary and a few spectacular shows of people doing hard work to the accompaniment of the boring music of composer Philip Glass. This film is not in the same league with its fine predecessor, "Koyaanisqatsi." [20 May 1988, p.A]

A breezy, elegant charmer of a movie.

Although not all of the movements are fleshed out to their full potential, The Red Violin still attains a certain symphonic grandeur that -- at a time when so many filmmakers are churning out cinematic ditties -- deserves to be applauded. [18 June 1999, Friday, p.A]

Plays like it was made by people who are 30 going on 13. The movie is as flighty and mixed up as the adolescent girl at its center.

Commits the cardinal sin of not being quite as funny as its star.

While it's no disaster, it's oddly indistinct and uncertain.

Sharp, well-acted film.

The lush production design by Zazu Myers, especially in the Chloe Hotel, and rich cinematography by Alar Kivilo make for a colorfully saturated fantasy of New York City that elevates the film. This is a big, juicy rom-com that has proven to be a rare entity these days on the big screen.

Imagine a Judy Blume rewrite of Cormac McCarthy's "The Road," and you'll end up somewhere in the ashen yet uplifting vicinity of How I Live Now.

Directed by Julian Jarrold and co-written by Tim Firth ("Calendar Girls"), the movie is quite enjoyable, effortlessly well-done on every level, even moving at times, but relatively light weight.

I don't the think the "look" is quite right for the story. Nor is the dreamy, wandering score by Marcelo Zarvos, which adds the blandest sort of ambient "tension music" to whatever's going on. McGregor struggles to make Perry credible in his credulousness; Harris, far better, doesn't have enough to do; Skarsgard is fun.

Joyce Hyser is fine as the male and female Terry, but since "Tootsie" is now the standard in these matters, the makeup job on Hyser as a guy should have been much more convincing. Not for a minute do we forget she's a girl. [30 Apr 1955, p.4C]

Church is most at home in his character’s skin; aside from the game but strident Quaid, all the leading players are ideally cast. It’s the script that isn’t ideally cast.

The way director and co-adapter Armfield shoots it, the film's awfully pretty in its grimness, in the way "Leaving Las Vegas" managed to make train-wreck alcoholism more fake-lyrical than grungy.

It’s fun to hang out with these people for a while.

Part philosophical dialogue, part macho thriller, John Frankenheimer's The Fourth War never really finds its identity as a movie. [23 Mar 1990, p.O]

When you see and hear so many fans of so many backgrounds expounding on what "Firework" means to them, you realize that while a song may or may not be for you, it most certainly is for others.

The acting is terrific, understated and pungent, especially Quaid's and Ryan's performances. [05 Nov 1993, p.I]

It’s hard to believe that a lineup so stellar could generate so few laughs, but there it is.

It's perhaps best suited for genre vets who can be satisfied with spot-the-reference games and Chan and Li's chemistry, or for undiscriminating kids who'll enjoy the "Karate Kid" vibe. But it's less a culmination of Li and Chan's careers than a passable footnote to better things.