The film doesn't move to a satisfactory conclusion as much as it fizzles out in a series of protracted anti-climaxes. [15 Dec 1989, p.A]

Ultraviolence is a funny thing, unless it’s not: Here, watching Martindale’s ranger character getting her face ripped off while being dragged along a gravel road isn’t a sight gag, and it isn’t an effective shock bit. It’s just sour. Composer Mark Mothersbaugh’s consciously ‘80s-vibe score has more personality than what’s on screen.

Director Mike Barker’s slick, vaguely pernicious take on the material is a blend of dead-serious anguish and feel-good vindication. While many will find the results effective, others will not simply resist the guessing games and pulp instincts at odds with the trauma, but actively resent them.

There's about 10 good minutes out of 85.

This movie's all over the place, trying too hard to be all Westerns to all sensibilities.

Unlike Richard Pryor, whose rough language adds an important rhythmic punctuation to his monologues, Murphy uses vulgarity to shock and divide his audience.

"Songbirds and Snakes” takes its job SUPERseriously, with more solemnity than imaginative excitement.

The movie can't quite embrace its characters or their scene; Wahlberg even cracks a joke over the end credits that heralds the late-'80s ascendance of hip-hop, which, of course, spawned Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

Much of this wordplay is clever, though there’s something off with the plotting.

Like so many earlier movie biographies, Secret suffers from bathetic storytelling and dialogue, some of it laughable.

The movie rips and roars.

Tries hard to be sweet but plays like "Pollyanna" with fleas.

Depending on the speed of your gag reflex, "+batteries not included" is either a 21st Century "Lassie" or the worst piece of smarm to come along since "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus."

It's a sordid but expert shocker.

The one true amazement in “Dark Fate”? That’s easy: the magical transference of biceps from Hamilton to Mackenzie Davis’s tank-topped, genetically enhanced soldier of the future. In a heavily digitized enterprise, they’re the most conspicuous human camera subject.

Black and Blue feels imbalanced and overlong, favoring fast and repetitive chase scenes over well-calibrated tension.

It's a baffling, unconvincing experience, though it has a few moments of mild charm.

Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation is a visual splendor, from the fun way the creatures are portrayed to the pacing. Keeping Tartakovsky as director of all three films creates a fluid sense of comedy and look.

You may not want to join in their activities but you're happy to have tagged along.

Slender but surprisingly smart and pleasing.

May be corny, but it's also absorbing, sweet and powerfully acted. It's a film about falling in love and looking back on it, and it avoids many of the genre's syrupy dangers.

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

Breaks through as a delightful, surprisingly fresh comedy.

Demons of mediocrity, be gone! Here we have a shrewd sequel a touch better than the original.

Starts strong but eventually collapses under its weighty sense of responsibility.

I admired the craft more than I loved the results. But The Tales of Despereaux is still better-than-average animation.

The movie won't be for everyone -- it's a little rough for preteens, and it doesn't throw many laughs the audience's way -- but along with "Sweeney Todd," this is Burton's most interesting project in a decade

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.