In some ways it's not a film that surprises us much. But it's a notable directorial debut anyway -- smartly written, very well cast and skillfully done.

Nice. The film itself is more nice than good, but nice isn't the worst trait.

The movie is shot and edited like a two-hour trailer for itself. As such, it's not hard to take, but you do tend to wonder when the film itself is going to start.

One funny movie - for at least half the time.

There are better holocaust dramas than Grey Zone -- "Schindler's List" for one, and due later this year, Roman Polanski's magnificent "The Pianist." But few will disturb you like The Grey Zone -- mostly because it won't try for tears.

A point is being made about how a criminal creates his own myth, but the ways Read twists and embellishes the truth become progressively less interesting.

Although the film presents plenty of compelling material, it suffers from the same weakness of "Fahrenheit 9/11": an utter lack of dot connection.

Is the central hook in “Old” enough? For many, I suspect, the answer will be not quite. The film, well-crafted when the characters quit reiterating the previous what’s-going-on-here? reiteration, could use a little more nerve and a little less plot machinery, designed to provide audiences with a happier ending than the graphic novel’s, and a lot of scientific folderol.

Animals make for good screenwriting devices, as characters can speak their inner feelings to them, but that doesn't make for the most subtle or efficient screenwriting.

Atits gooey center, I Do ... Until I Don't is like vanilla cake. It is sweet, but generally there's nothing that memorable about it.

The actors make up for the relative thinness of the material. Smith navigates the emotional terrain with great skill. The script is often funny but just as often cutesy.

Hardwicke is a talented director who brings an addictive verve and visual dynamism to this bombastic take, and Rodriguez has a charm so appealing it could be weaponized.

Another of many recent Hollywood plotless wonders.

The new “John Wick” spinoff Ballerina is recommendable, -ish, primarily for the way Anjelica Huston, as the Russian mob boss, makes a meal out of a single-syllable word near the end, delivered after a pause so unerringly timed it’s almost too good for this world.

I never saw the earlier version. This one remains a bit of a mess but a pretty interesting one, as well as one of the few films this year deserving (in both admirable and dissatisfying ways) of the adjective “instructive.”

Nice to look at but too calculated and clichéd to resonate beyond its surface slickness.

Moderately funny though immoderately derivative.

The movie isn't quite spry, warm or hip enough to carry out its very ambitious serio-comic agenda. Even for an ace like Levinson, Belfast is a long way from Baltimore.

As wide and deep as the directors fish for anecdotes, it's surprising that there isn't more focus, more context.

First-rate actors bail out second-rate directors all the time, and Freedomland serves as the latest example.

While the movie is never dull, its romantic fodder doesn't do justice to any period at all.

Save for the compelling oddity of seeing Michael J. Fox as a cocaine addict, this drama offers nothing special. [1 Apr 1988, p.A]

The CGI is relentless and what you might call reverse-magical: The more we're hit with stuff, the less wondrous it becomes.

Begins like a house afire and then fizzles out into a quasi-supernatural dead end.

Every time you start resisting, somehow the film makes the sale, again.

By filling in what the story lacks in originality with easy attractions like pretty faces, set to fluffy music, the filmmakers lose the outsider edge the Lizzie McGuire franchise was built on.

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]

Crystal and Hines are immediately likable on the screen, so the fact that Running Scared isn`t all that we expect must be due to the script. The film`s ending does leave room for a sequel. If one is made, director Hyams should get Crystal and Hines a better story as well as that bar in Florida.

The landscapes and backgrounds of the Min Valley and the Nanking Road, not to mention the cuddly pandas themselves, are the big-ticket items here.

Unhappily, Manhattan Murder Mystery could use more comedy and less mystery. As the movie progresses, it gets sillier rather than wittier. Still, it is nice to get back to the old Woody Allen as a non-brooding director - nothing Bergmanesque here - and it is nice (never mind the off-screen circumstances) to see Diane Keaton up there in place of Mia Farrow. [20 Aug 1993, p.A]

Despite some moments of genuine tension, Dot the i walks (and occasionally hops right over) a very fine line between thriller/drama and parody.

A scenic, well-behaved account of Potter's life and times.

Pitch Perfect 3 is so breezy it's completely weightless, but it manages to deliver just enough of the goods.

The Kingdom has a heart and a viewpoint. It’s a thrill ride with a lingering thought or two in its wake. But the explosions, breakneck chases, daredevil escapes and predictability about which side will be victorious remain its foremost mission.

It all adds up to a better-than-average entertainment that sags terribly in the middle. [15 Apr 1985, p.4C]

At the heart of the “Has Fallen” franchise is the affection between men, and Butler has always shared the best chemistry with his male co-stars. That spark in “Angel” comes from Butler’s scenes with Nick Nolte, as his father, Clay, a veteran living off the grid.

With this script, Allen isn't working in farce mode. It's more an easygoing nod to W. Somerset Maugham or, in the plot's "Pygmalion"-like relationship between a cynical older man and his desired younger female charge, George Bernard Shaw.

The film wages an internal battle between its ripely sensual atmosphere and its often stilted pacing and plotting.

The best of Dolphin Tale takes it easy. Led by Connick and Judd, plus the crucially empathetic Gamble and Zuehlsdorff, the cast includes Kris Kristofferson as the seafaring old salt of a grandpa. The acting has a nice, low-pressure vibe, in contrast to the film's high-pressure peril.

So Close is a beautiful mess. I didn't really understand what was going on, but I loved every stylized minute of it.

This time around, the razors are a little duller, the clicks not as slick, the patter not as snappy.

A beautiful mixed bag, let’s say, all told. But I’ll see The Phoenician Scheme a second time sometime for Cera, who will surely return to the Anderson fold.

Ross' smooth, steady film is just interesting enough to make you wish it were a lot grittier, and better.

Captures a breathtaking exotic landscape cluttered only by the smugness of its characters.

For a film about deep water terror, Jaws 2 is really quite shallow. [16 June 1978, p.3-2]

"The Movie" is bigger, brighter and boomier on the big screen than the series is on cable, but is it any better? The short answer is no, but that's not necessarily bad.

More clever than coherent.

Wahlberg has the presence, the glower and the laconic line readings to guide us through a mess of pain, painlessly.

The movie begins with a tragedy and eases into a more interesting blend of drama and comedy than we've gotten in this genre lately.

Something that gets your motor racing briefly, but which you've seen all too often.

Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, the co-stars of Out to Sea, keep fooling, beguiling and surprising us. Nothing can sink or ruffle them. Even with substandard scripts or dubious projects, they remain one of the greatest comedy actor teams the American movies have had: two longtime stars with formidable talents who complement each other perfectly. [02 July 1997, p.2]

There is something inherently dishonest about Dark Days.

The only glaring fault of this otherwise fine film is that director Jeroen Krabbe's sense of drama is far too heavy-handed in spots.

The film is not exactly a documentary, and not quite a period horror movie either. But it has elements of both. At its best, it's hypnotic and provocative.

Still, it's the bits and pieces of this movie, the eccentric asides, that rescue it-when they work. [1 Oct 1993, p.L]

Perfect tries too hard to be perfect on too many fronts, and like a person who fine-tunes his or her body too much, Perfect ultimately seems brittle and less attractive the closer one looks. [7 June 1985, p.A]

Good in many ways, full of talent and intelligence, and marks the debut of a promising young American writer-director, Dan Harris.

The movie loses its magic by the time the solution is revealed.

Erratically acted and, at times, clumsily written.

Whereas Clint Eastwood simply would have squinted at Robinson, Stallone takes a more violent approach. Maybe that's the difference between actors--Eastwood can be droll; Stallone more often crosses the border to primeval.

Perhaps Figgis proves his unconventionality with Cold Creek Manor after all, creating a thriller without resorting to the genre's usual bag of tricks.

Turns out to be a Hollywood sequel of surpassing silliness and wasted talent.

Johnson's latest effort, Finding Steve McQueen, isn't perfect. Or halfway perfect. Or even one-quarter perfect. But he does take what would have been a rather bland heist story and mix it with a mediocre love story to create an enjoyable final product.

Stone had the right instincts about the part — she inhabits Senna beautifully, and her performance anchors the light-as-air All I Wish. It's the perfect role for her to sink her teeth into, sexy and fun, but she brings a sense of real intelligence and soulfulness to the character. That's true star power.

Snappy but sappy romantic comedy.

An amiable comedy about a patched-together football squad, tries to do just that, comes up short after half time, but hangs on well enough to beat the spread.

Overstuffed, formulaic but very easy to take.

The film's pretty good about saying why so much in the culture encourages a political life in the closet, either tacitly or directly. But even The Advocate had a problem with calling it a brilliantly orchestrated conspiracy.

But by not "saying" ANYTHING about the lives behind all the lovely, easygoing footage of infants making their way to their first steps and beyond, Babies feels a tad dodgy (and repetitive) by the hour mark.

It's a shame, because Atomic Blonde is a visual cinematic delight. It's not that it's all style, no substance. But it doesn't seem to know what to do with its substance, and ultimately, Atomic Blonde becomes a film that's all dressed up with just nowhere to go.

Has one other thing in common with "The Matrix Reloaded" -- too much story, too many angles.

Slender but surprisingly smart and pleasing.

The film’s impressive as far is it goes, and Schoenaerts is a fine actor with considerable emotional resources. But it’s exceedingly tidy in its beat-by-beat developments, and outside Roman and Marcus, the supporting character roster struggles to make an impression.

Since I sort of liked “Step Up 2: The Streets,” I’m not surprised I sort of liked the remake of Fame.

Overall, King Arthur sinks into a grim, gray torpor - though it's an odd, not unentertaining movie. The approach is different, if not edifying or convincing.

Pseudo art can be fun, though, even if it doesn't quite awaken all your senses.

For all the fresh originality of the first half, why do we have to retread Kubrick’s film again? Leashing the film adaptation so closely to Kubrick’s film is a missed opportunity for this story to realize the full mystical potential promised.

Almost nothing new to offer -- despite its good actors, flashy visuals and well-textured New York gloss and grit. But there are teasing hints of another, better movie buried inside somewhere.

Between the two Murphys, "Metro" is no waste of time. But it's no life-enhancing experience either -- unless you're into trolley-hopping, perp-snuffing and vows of vengeance. "The Nutty Professor" proved Eddie Murphy still has it, 10 times over.

Rescue Dawn is Herzog's first English-language screenplay, and this is part of its problem: The hushed conversations between prisoners sound only fitfully idiomatic. Also--crucially--Herzog can't find a way to make his own big finish feel authentic, even if things did happen roughly this way.

It has flashes of inspiration and raw emotion, and beyond the famous faces in the cast, Disney’s Wrinkle in Time is graced with a wonderful, natural Meg courtesy of the young actress Storm Reid. Now 14, she’s easy and versatile screen company. The movie around her is a little frustrating and rhythmically stodgy, however, partly for reasons inherent in bringing tricky, elusive material to a different medium.

As corporate directives go, Scoob! has a lighter spirit (until the obligatory protracted action climax) and swifter throwaway gags than either of the live-action “Scooby-Doo” remakes offered. (Thank God for Matthew Lillard and Linda Cardellini, though. I start each day with that prayer.) The animated “Scoob!” aims younger, and mostly is better for it.

The Theory of Flight is built from the kind of material that either soars or crashes with audiences. And here, it doesn't quite hold together. But if the film, as a whole, never takes flight, the actors do. Watching them bicker and sail up is so delightful, you only wish their vehicle could keep them aloft longer.

Fun to watch it may be, but it's shallow fun. Like the drugs and booze the characters keep using -- and even the sex -- it's a passing pleasure.

The surprise, if there is a surprise here, is that the film has found a slyly humorous tone for much of the running time.

I wish more had been made of the power of books versus the power of a studio's special-effects department.

Wayne's World 2 may not be much of a movie, but at least it's funny. And, hey, what else does it have to be? What do you want from a movie? Blood? Rock on, Wayne. Party hearty, Garth. [10 Dec 1993, p.A]

It's just another case of mourning over what might have been.

Last Chance Harvey is what it is: a pleasant put-up job, held up by world-class pros.

A marvel of shadows and fog -- literal and psychic. [12 Mar 2010, p.C9]

A cranky failure with brilliant moments.

Vincent Sherman's tangy 1950 gangster crime-romance. [19 Jun 2005, p.C3]

The results in this, Coppola’s third feature, are roughly half-good, half-less. The good comes when the director, working with cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw, focuses on evocative silent footage serving as interludes and visual grace notes capturing Shelly, primarily, in moments of reflection. The dialogue and the dramaturgy, in contrast, strain for jokes and over-ladle the pathos.

The movie's title refers to a comment about how people grow at their own rates. Miller's movie has its moments of impressive velocity, but it never quite takes off.

The whole schtick of these movies is the treat-motivated, not-quite-getting-it doggie voice-over, performed by Josh Gad, and it lightens the film. But going dark and emotional makes the film work better than the prior two.

Shandling and Nichols strain to reach a mainstream audience and wind up sounding like they, too, have been trained to tell us what we want to hear. Sorry, guys, but you don't score.

Hyams' script may lack emotional thrust, but it's economical, and it tweaks the genre's traditional heroism, if only faintly. [21 Sep 1990, p.H]

Date Night is a product substantially inferior to the material routinely finessed by Carell and Fey, on their respective hit shows, into comic gold.