When a loving son makes a documentary about his father, you can forgive him for laying it on a bit thick - especially when his love for his subject, Ron Santo, is shared by an entire city.

Muppets from Space has silly gags and cute cosmic fish swimming around in its space. It just doesn't have the right awe and wonder -- except, perhaps, for the children who should be its prime audience. Adults, beware -- at least this time.

Ultimately, the weight of the film falls on Goofy's powerful shoulders. He does his best, but like Norma Desmond, he can only do so much.

Johnson-McGoldrick’s facility with both the tropes of the "Conjuring" films, and the Warren’s relationship, keeps the film swift and emotionally resonant, while Chaves pushes the cinematic aesthetic to the max.

It's a good transcription, though sadly bowdlerized. [02 Jul 2000, p.29]

A vital film about a bunch of youngsters who view break-dancing as a way out of their dead end lifestyle. For what is essentially a musical exploitation film, Breakin' is surprisingly filled with more human moments and dance scenes than violence or sexuality. [08 June 1984, p.12]

Considering the talent involved, the new thriller Target is a shocking failure, featuring some very good actors wallowing around in a laughable story poorly directed by one of Hollywood`s more daring filmmakers.

But Haley Lu Richardson’s in it. She’s excellent. In fact, she’s reliably excellent. In “Five Feet Apart” she goes 10 rounds with dreckdom, and wins. Scene after scene the movie becomes a two-hour demonstration in the art, craft and mystery of what a performer can do to make you believe, in spite of the things they actually have to say.

It’s slow--make that very slow--and the final half hour or so is mystifying and tedious. But it gorgeously recalls Fellini and “Koyaanisqatsi” and hauntingly pits ancient tradition against science, oppression and industrial rot.

While the world and the characters of "Detective Pikachu" are incredibly fun, the story within that world suffers. Most of the exposition is provided in flashback-style holographic recreations, and the action sequences are so inane, chaotic and incomprehensible that you may find your mind wandering to grocery lists rather than the film's stakes.

The film itself, which has everything from erection jokes to a computer-generated tornado, comes down to a battle between the interpreters and a screenplay riddled with convenience, cliche and well-meaning contrivance.

The Book of Eli works, even if the preservation of Christianity isn’t high on your personal post-apocalypse bucket list. Establishing its storytelling rules clearly and well, the film simply is better, and better-acted, than the average end-of-the-world fairy tale.

At times the film appears on the verge of morphing into a singing-cowboy musical.

While the sentiments feel authentic, the ludicrous plot, filled with holes, doesn’t do the emotional aspects of the story any service.

A sign of O's effectiveness is that it works regardless of whether you know Shakespeare's play.

At least Reno is around -- and he's the only spice in this stale, slick stew

This pretty but witless movie is well-produced, slickly directed -- full of jokes about hot dudes and hot babes pitched right at the "American Pie" crowd.

The movie is rich with detail, characters and a specific historical context, even if its narrative is incoherent. But its cheap, gauzy veneer and primitive special effects are fun on their own terms.

Thanks to the actors and the way the movie lets them loose, it's often funny or moving at all the right moments.

As an intentionally campy film, Girls Will Be Girls dips a cinematic toe into shark-infested waters. Not only must it operate on several levels-making us care for deeply flawed characters and laugh at their bitter lashings-it also has to carry a cohesive story arc. On this count, Girls Will Be Girls fizzles a bit.

The diversity of the Beauty Shop ensemble is a large part of what makes it so much fun to watch;

The cast is full of strong actors, among them Tahar Rahim (riveting in "A Prophet") as Samba's allegedly Brazilian friend and confidant. It's easy to enjoy what the cast does on screen; it's harder to buy the nutty mood swings.

Early on, the camera is outside looking in through the couple’s windows and it’s as if we’re eavesdropping. That kind of cinematic intimacy is a huge draw, even if things are about to get ugly.

I wish the film version of Astro Boy provided a stronger antidote to mediocrity.

The movie as a movie is a letdown, because all it consists of is Eastwood's hoarse, foul-mouthed complaining about today's "softies" and then his leading into battle in Grenada a bunch of rag-tag kids that he has molded into men. This is all material recycled out of films as varied as "The Dirty Dozen" and "Police Academy." [5 Dec 1986, p.A-C]

Scott is able to make it fresh and lyrical, as well as give us rousingly exciting scenes of nature in eruption. [02 Feb 1996]

Two of the big action set-pieces easily outdo anything from the previous edition.

"La Femme Nikita" is worth renting at your local video store. You will see a new face, actress Anne Parillaud, in a story that seems plugged into a fresh, subterranean Parisian world. By comparison, Point of No Return is a series of fashion ads and standard Hollywood explosion scenes. [19 March 1993, p.C]

An interesting misfire. It's also the victim of lousy timing.

Russell offers a relatively restrained, Gary Cooper-ish performance, though most of the laughs are left to the four kids-Brian Price, Jared Rushton, Jamie Wild and Jeffrey Wiseman-who crack wise with arch sitcom precociousness. And Hawn, batting her baby blues, does make you want to hug her-at times very tightly, right around the throat.

Stick It reels from its own frenetic pace. The music is loud, the camera cuts are incessant and everything seems geared toward distracting us from what's going on onscreen. Which is not much.

It's also likely that audiences other than the very young will find the action too restricted and too repetitive. It's far too modest and leisurely a film for children who have been exposed to MTV. Still, there is a charm in Camp's relaxed, low-tech approach; his is a cottage industry that merits a degree of respect and support. [19 June 1987, p.G]

Starts like a house afire and then suffers an imagination burnout.

A handsome but lightweight period piece about passions indulged and repressed, and the calamitous outcomes that result from both courses.

A Foreign Affair's flaws make it even more of an enigma, as graceless as it is endearing.

Sky Blue slows things down, creating a ponderous, almost languid movie-going experience.

The major problem with the sequel therefore is really the script, which was not written by Diane Thomas and which, coincidentally, did not meet with immediate approval by Turner. And so instead of surprising us in the rapid-fire manner of the original, ''The Jewel of the Nile'' takes people we know and runs them ragged through a new but unappealing location--the Arab desert--as they get caught in the middle of a holy war that doesn`t have much entertainment value given the recent number of incidents involving real-life terrorism in the area.

Most importantly, You, Me & Tuscany is sentient. It’s transporting and ridiculous and knows exactly what it is, and therefore, we do too. So go ahead, enjoy a little dolce vita, as a treat.

And then there's Alan Arkin, who, as John's editor, is hilarious and dry--it's frankly a shame he's not onscreen for every single scene.

Though the film does contain a few minutes of patented Carpenter camera magic, it is unable to sustain either story or character. For all its flash and color, it is a dull film--an artless dig in the Spielberg garden. [02 July 1986, p.C3]

The always wonderful Martindale nails the tone in her warm and nuanced performance, combining sly humor and a soulful presence, while the men orbiting around her range from complete goofs (Copley and Jenkins) to self-involved and dour (Krasinski).

It’s a surprisingly trenchant story for what seems to be a slight genre thriller, but then again, genre thrillers can be the best vessels for these kinds of messages.

The cast excels at transcending its material. The script by Justin Haythe matches Francis Lawrence’s direction; it’s workmanlike and steady and pretty flat.

The acting's strong; in addition to Moretz and Moore, Judy Greer is a welcome presence in the Betty Buckley role of the sympathetic gym instructor. But something's missing from this well-made venture. What's there is more than respectable, while staying this side of surprising.

A genial if predictable romantic comedy about a couple of mismatched ice skaters who come together to try to win an Olympic medal in pairs figure skating. Oh, yes, they also fall in love. What results is sort of "Dirty Dancing on Ice," with Moira Kelly as a wealthy, spoiled, teenage ice princess with her own rink, and D.B. Sweeney as a rough-and-tumble hockey player at the end of his career. Directed by Paul Michael Glaser - yes, Starksy - directs cleanly, but the chemistry between the co-stars makes it work. [27 March 1992, p.C]

The script never quite feels itself; it feels like contradictory impulses playing out in shuffle mode. And the scale of the movie does the putative romance no favors.

Sometimes you want to buy an extra-large popcorn and settle in for a big budget Hollywood blockbuster replete with entertaining explosions, undemanding dialogue and completely unrealistic action sequences. If all that sounds like gloriously uncomplicated fun, The Guardian is your movie.

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.

Jane is a genius, but she's deeply flawed and complicated, struggling with substance abuse, mental illness, her own past regrets. That dark underbelly adds depth and dimension to the ironic humor of Our Brand is Crisis.

Doesn't really work when examined in the daylight outside the theater doors.

A welcome respite from the high-volume ugliness of rock extravaganza.

It's hard to believe how bad this movie is.

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

Bond, like rock 'n' roll -- or Tomorrow -- may never die. Even so, watching the movie explode and crash its way toward its climax, I could only keep thinking: Come back, Richard Maibaum.

The Nativity Story surprised me. I didn't expect such an obvious art film approach. Yet the Bible, in the King James version, is great English literature.

Without insult to either film, Anger Management could be called "Punch-Drunk Love" for the masses.

Like Martin Scorsese's "Shutter Island," Stonehearst Asylum starts with the hysteria knob set at 11 and goes up from there.

Anytime Jaa isn't on screen, The Protector sputters.

A stylish, nasty, very well-done Belgian horror movie.

An uneven but strongly acted debut feature from co-writer and director Sheldon Candis.

Slick but forgettable. [01 Oct 1993, p.C]

Nostalgia has no real point to make here. All that Famuyiwa can hope to accomplish is to tell his story well. In this area he is less than competent.

A seductive revisiting of an old classic - one that helps us see these lovers and their world with renewed passion.

An irritation, more fizzle than sizzle.

Seemingly a simple comedy, it actually -- like all Allen's "simple" comedies -- has a lot to say. Will the audience listen or just dismiss it as minor, out-of-date Woody? If they do, it's their loss.

What makes XX/XY so engaging; it attempts to define love through broken characters who know neither themselves nor the meaning of love.

Frederick is the key to the movie and she's definitely an impressive new talent, someone who can really hold the screen and who delivers something striking or memorable in every scene.

A good third of this overblown movie consists of stunt-filled action sequences that turn a human story into something akin to Cannonball Run. That's too bad, because Goldberg's character is a terrible thing to waste.

The Holiday is a 131-minute romantic comedy for those who, if they had their way, would still be watching "Love Actually."

Four Good Days is a portrait of addiction that wants to dive into the ugliest parts: the detox, the physical deterioration, the flop houses, the things Molly did for drugs. But, despite Kunis’ haggard appearance, Four Good Days only flirts with ugly, pulling away from the most vile details at the last moments.

What`s lacking is a clear conception on Jewison`s part as to what this film is about.

Black Snake Moan strikes me as hogwash. It fundamentally does not work; its consciously far-fetched, out-there notions of the things damaged people do in the name of love are reductive and go only so far. It's as if the premise were tethered to a radiator or something.

This is a modest but expertly performed piece. And this summer, surrounded by lesser, louder, bigger and dumber diversions, it's especially welcome.

Though recalling a truckload of antecedents, "Harold and Maude" and "Sweet November" among them, Elsa & Fred manages enough fresh touches and performance subtleties to stand alone as an irresistible, bittersweet comedy.

A thickly plotted disappointment, yet it has three or four big sequences proving that director Michael Mann, who gave us "Thief," "Heat," "Collateral" and others, has lost none of his instincts for how to choreograph, photograph and edit screen violence.

A "Chekhovian" movie that's closer to the master's mood than many, it's also a jazzy, rainy day film that makes serious and amusing points about life and people in the midst of its downpour.

Strikes me as something of an elaborate mistake, a wasted opportunity and a script Hartley should have discarded. But I liked it anyway.

May be the only movie in recent memory unworthy of its own genuinely hilarious Web site, www.finemanfilms.com.

A gaudy yet grim science-fiction horror movie of such surpassing silliness, humorless intensity and stylistic overkill that watching it may actually put you in a state of paranoia.

Not a triumph or a tragedy, but faithful to its subject matter. And faithful, in this case, seems fitting.

When the crashing chords and defiant lyrics of "Be the Rain" close things out, there's a burst of idealism and energy that redeems everything. If you see Greendale, treat the movie charitably and dig the music.

Against the rest of his dramatically flimsy crew, Snipes' sunglasses-at-midnight strut conveys an almost lifelike sheen. Almost. He's more alive than the movie, which is dead on arrival.

Around the halfway point it starts getting interesting and the people who put it together are at least working in a realm of reasonable intelligence and wit and respect for the audience.

As sports movies go, Gridiron Gang isn't bad, just not top-line material.

This is a project whose elements, from concept to script to casting, refuse to follow the usual formulas, which is good, yet they never quite cohere.

A micro-indie passport party that, while well-intentioned, evokes the same feelings that have been known to arise from being subjected to your friends' vacation movies.

As directed by Robert Mulligan, the stately pace here feels sluggish and the music is no elegiac Pachelbel's "Canon" but a medley of dreadful cocktail lounge piano and swooning strings. [21 Oct 1988, p.G]

Good, bad or middling, very little of Shyamalan’s works can be described as tightly plotted, well-sprung suspense.

I liked Death on the Nile a fair bit more than Branagh’s previous Christie film, partly because it’s a less predictable and schematic narrative to begin with, and partly because Branagh the actor has a way of outfoxing his own pedestrian direction.

Much to enjoy in this potpourri of silly fun and forbidden games, but a bit less ambition and a tad more focus might have helped.