The cast is just right for this mini-"Godfather" yarn, and Gray's filmmaking is generally on target even if it does tend to dawdle along the way.

The acting and directing are uneven, but many scenes have strong emotional and political power.

The parallel stories don't always dovetail with each other smoothly, but the acting is strong and the atmosphere is powerful.

Gosling, as the Durst-like David Marks, is scarily effective before his performance turns opaque and horror-movie-ish.

Caine is reason enough to see any movie. He gives this clever, somewhat lumbering caper movie a deep-seated soul.

In Michael Winterbottom's Trishna, Thomas Hardy's Victorian romantic tragedy "Tess of the D'Urbervilles" proves surprisingly adaptable to contemporary India.

Superbly acted, especially by Giocante as the teasing 16-year-old instigator.

Moviegoers deserve more than the racism, sexism, and all-purpose mayhem on view here - failings that offset the razor-sharp action and technical brilliance also visible.

The movie, despite what you may have gathered from the goofy trailer, is more sweet than silly.

Color Me Kubrick is a far more modest movie, but in some ways is more successful than "The Hoax" in conveying how deeply people want to believe something is true against all evidence.

Campion is an imaginative filmmaker, but here she reduces a fascinating subject to a two-character soap opera that often seems contrived on both spiritual and psychological levels.

Young viewers may guffaw, but seasoned fans of "There's Something About Mary" will be disappointed.

You get a strong whiff of what it must have been like to be Johnny Cash, or his exasperated manager, from this film. It would make a good companion piece to “Walk the Line.”

This story is powerful enough without our being heavily coaxed all the time how to feel.

If moviegoers really thought about the violence, sexism, and materialism at the core of the series, the whole shebang might vanish overnight.

The picture almost overwhelms you with sheer niceness. Unfortunately, this effect doesn't last; eventually the movie goes too far and overdoses on its own saccharine. [2 May 1989, Arts, p.11]

Replete with boisterously unfunny black slapstick.

Shots of blood and naked bodies clash bizarrely with Coppola's more quaint and engaging notions; the result may be intended as a dialectical encounter, but seems more like a head-on collision.

Makes up in solid acting what it lacks in Hollywood-type frills.

In sum, it's a quintessential summer film, especially if you're 8 years old and in the mood for a quick dose of mindless fun.

It's worth noting that this movie is loosely based on actual people – except the real-life Driss character is, in fact, an Arab. If Driss had been an Arab, The Intouchables would have waded into less navigable waters, but it might have made for a tougher movie.

I prefer the goofier approach, which is why, even though Hemsworth isn't going to be cast in "King Lear" anytime soon, he's the best thing about Thor.

It's a lot easier to follow than "Syriana." But intelligibility is about the only thing this international thriller has going for it.

What he (Ball) intends as knife-edge realism instead comes across as another con job.

In the name of unblinking realism, Szász overdoes the allegory. There are no sacrificial gestures here, no heroism, no tears. He comes on as truth-teller, but he’s only telling half the truth.

Still, much of the thrill-a-minute story is more frantic than really clever, and much-loved comedians like Bill Murray and Wayne Knight don't get much chance to shine amid the gonzo goings-on. Even sports-lovers may be disappointed by the small amount of genuine athletic action that's been squeezed into the picture. [18 Nov 1996, p.14]

As a writer-director, Edward Burns is as industrious as an occupational therapist. He makes sure each of his people is well positioned for happiness.

The pacing soon grows dull and the frequent narration is a nonstop string of clichés, platitudes, and truisms that should have been flung out the cutting-room window.

Keanu Reeves's portrayal of Siddartha is less than inspired, and there are candid depictions of human suffering in his portion of the movie that could be troubling for some spectators. As a work of visual art, the film is deeply impressive, however, reconfirming Bertolucci and cinematographer Vittorio Storaro as brilliant choreographers of cinematic time and space. [03 Jun 1994, p.10]

There are marvelous moments and dull ones. The best asset is first-rate acting; the worst liability is Roos's overuse of cinematic gimmicks.

The story is slender, but the Brazilian settings are exquisite and lilting tunes by Antonio Carlos Jobim cast a spell over the entire enterprise.

Girard invests each episode of this production with dramatic credibility and emotional strength.

You won't find a load of laughs in 13 Going on 30, but there's plenty of whimsy, which is a close cousin of genuine humor.

The best reason to check the film out is Ejiofor's performance, which is packed with grace and wit and pathos.

Which is not to say the movie is anything less than diverting. It’s just that diverting is often all it is.

Quaid and Church are funny, but too much of this film is not half as smart as it thinks it is.

There has to be a good reason to put yourself through yet another junkie odyssey and Candy flunks the test.

Bad Words does to spelling bees what “Bad Santa” did to Santa Claus.

The plot is familiar from decades of earlier bank-robbing sagas - the classic "Bonnie and Clyde" seems to have been a particular inspiration for its overall tone - and neither the action nor the dialogue rings meaningful changes on the genre.

The sadness and almost Chaplinesque pathos that ensues is well wrought and Close, although she is so recessive that at times she seems to fade into the ether, is quite touching.

Splendid acting, a screenplay as likable as it is unpredictable, and an undercurrent of deep human generosity make this a particularly engaging comic-dramatic experience.

The movie is a disappointment -- not a stain on Benton's career as a serious and literate director, but only half the powerful drama it might have been.

Gyllenhaal is one of the most gifted actors of his generation and, along with Joaquin Phoenix, he takes more chances than just about any of them. He deserves a movie that risks as much as he does.

The honey runs thick in The Secret Life of Bees, and so does the treacle. The cloying dullness sets in early, although not from the first frame.

The children are under the aegis of Miss Peregrine – played with divaesque triumphalism by Eva Green – who is capable of transforming herself into a falcon.

In addition to being a beloved author and illustrator, Beatrix is also presented as an early feminist and environmentalist who took control of her literary empire and saved vast acres of luscious farmland from greedy developers, eventually bequeathing property to Britain's National Trust.

Robin Williams plays the main character with his usual air of repressed hysteria, and Kurt Russell is a good foil for him. But between the very funny beginning and the good-hearted finale, the story grows scattered and the tone is often ragged. [31 Jan 1986, p.23]

This is Téchiné’s seventh film featuring Deneuve, and it’s not one of the better ones. (The best is probably 1986’s “Scene of the Crime.”) Still, it has its true-crime fascinations, and, until its misbegotten 30-year flash-forward to Maurice’s trial, it has a silky allure of sun-kissed depravity.

The animation is deft but the screenplay is stilted, the voice-performances are unimaginative, and the whole project is surprisingly clumsy in its efforts to please young and old alike. A major disappointment.

Old-fashioned storytelling.

Unique and fascinating.

One of Hollywood's bloodiest and goofiest adaptations.

The film has plenty of shortcomings, but it's fun to see Caan back in action.

It's regrettable that director Costa-Gavras puts more of his storytelling energy into simplistic psychology and suspense-movie action than historical depth and philosophical insight. This prevents Amen. from becoming a Holocaust drama for the ages.

Much of the action is as ponderous as it is predictable. Lector fans will get their fill, but be warned that the menu contains at least two scenes with over-the-top excesses that Hannibal himself might not want to swallow.

In short, this isn't a poignant drama about courage and imagination -- it's a contrived fantasy about courage and imagination.

The movie is sociologically rich, if not very memorable in the personalities it depicts.

Not always compellingly made, but intelligent and perhaps prophetic.

Spooky, atmospheric tale.

A romantic kung-fu comedy with a good heart.

It exploits post-9/11 anxieties as fodder for goofball gooniness. "Dr. Strangelove" it's not.

Aside from these two actors (Downey/Rourke), Iron Man 2 isn’t much of a whoop-de-do.

It's so clean a film, you could bring your grandmother.

Thanks to Tukur, what we get here is still something: a stunning portrait of a good man caught in a widening inferno.

Marginally better than its predecessor, but the same problem still remains: Cars just aren't very interesting as anthropomorphic animation vehicles (pun intended).

It has its modicum of suspense, and Brendon Fraser, who stars as intrepid professor Trevor Anderson – who does indeed journey to the center of the Earth – is his usual heroically affable self.

This camp farce has its moments of high hilarity, and Sedaris is a spark plug, but it's wildly uneven.

Excali-BORE, Gere as Lancelot lost-a-lot; inaccurate.

It's all a bit hokey, though the mountaineering footage is often spectacular.

Davis contributes his usual dignity -- not easy when you're playing a character who thinks he's John F. Kennedy dyed black -- but it's not enough to save this silly thriller-comedy.

Some of the fairy tale effects are marvelous; but the odyssey from darkness to light is unduly long and sloggy, and Stewart, with her contemporary edge, seems to be acting in the wrong era.

The movie's moral messages are all on target. Too bad the movie is much, much too long and Jackson gives one of his dullest performances ever.

Gently filmed, quietly thoughtful, sometimes almost heartbreaking.

Joffe for the most part amps up the melodrama without tearing Greene's complex weave, but everything unravels toward the end with some staggeringly bad staging. It's as if the film itself had been mugged.

Morning Glory isn't targeting the dumbing down of TV news. It's pandering to the audience that craves the dumbness.

Good acting and understated filmmaking turn off-putting material into a mildly engrossing drama, if not a particularly compelling one.

The story has old-fashioned characters and situations, and Haas has sensibly filmed it in an old-fashioned way, stressing visual appeal rather than the story's sordid undertones. The acting is excellent, too.

All this gloomy masochism is made palatable because of the performers. And yet we must ask: Is this any way to show off two of our finest actors?

The coarseness wouldn't be so bad if at least the steady stream of obscenities were funny.

Equal parts preachy and melodramatic, The Company You Keep never quite figures out what it wants to be.

A reasonably bright and original movie -- with enough good-natured star performances to make up for glitches in the screenplay, which never quite decides if it's more interested in laughs, chills, or romance.

Socially alert drama.

It gains a major charge of dramatic energy from Kurt Russell's ferocious acting, almost certainly the best of his career.

Interesting for its historical content.

Both actors are a lot better than this material requires – or deserves.

Unlike the first ''Back to the Future,'' though, the sequel doesn't stay fresh and surprising all the way through. After a few good scenes, the plot gets too tricky, and the filmmakers keep walloping us with one chase scene after another. [4 Dec. 1989, p.10]

Brit Marling, who starred in and co-wrote Cahill’s debut feature, “Another Earth,” is very good as Ian’s lab assistant and eventual wife, and a young Indian girl named Kashish, a nonactress I would guess, is unforgettable.

Here’s a valuable moviegoing rule: Just because you use up an entire handful of hankies doesn’t mean a movie’s great. But Stamp and Redgrave are the real deal.

Although Casanova is far from a stinker, I can't join in the chorus of praise for what is essentially a coy farce replete with arch performances and even archer dialogue.

War Dogs ends up being no better than its protagonists at delivering the goods.

This is a kid’s fantasy of how to be bigger and badder than anybody else. As for Washington, no doubt he now has his very own franchise.

This is certainly the grubbiest Holmes in movie history.

The comedy is frantic and tasteless in the usual Waters mode, but it takes telling potshots at the Hollywood establishment, which isn't nearly so open about the tackiness of its products.

A wide range of concert and media clips lend vigor and variety to the documentary.

The story gets off to a slow start after its riveting documentary-style introduction, but heartfelt acting and unexpected plot twists eventually give it solid dramatic impact.

Much of the historical horrorfest is more frenetic than fascinating. Look out for bursts of over-the-top violence.

The action is rousing and the suspense is relentless in this adventure yarn about a San Francisco cop and an Oregon mountain-man chasing a psychopathic killer through the wilderness. [19 Feb 1988, p.21]

Rob Reiner directed "Ghosts of Mississippi" from Lewis Colick's screenplay, and both deserve credit for their conscientious work. In the end, though, a race-related irony lingers in the movie despite its positive achievements. [20 Dec 1996, p.12]