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.