Burns is one of the great entertainers of all time, but he's written out of the story much too soon, leaving us little to watch except Schlatter doing an endless Burns imitation. [08 Apr 1988, p.21]

While the story and acting are the opposite of subtle, young moviegoers may enjoy the action and suspense.

Eddie Murphy is one of the most alarmingly gifted comic actors America has ever produced but he persists in making comedies that are beneath him.

Much of the acting is solid, but earnest performances can't give the picture all the bite and excitement it sorely needs.

Horror buffs will find plenty of split-second suspense and in-your-face carnage, while others will scramble for the exit as quickly as the characters race away from their apocalyptic foes.

As gorgeous as it is to watch, Winged Migration suffers from a lack of organization.

It’s unfortunate, if predictable, that Hollywood found it necessary to almost entirely eliminate deep think in favor of deep action. As for Johansson, I have no big problem with cross-racial casting, but she’s so glum and seemingly uncomfortable here that you wonder if maybe she didn’t harbor the same misgivings as her detractors.

The drawn-out, lowbrow humor is either "love it" or "hate it," so it may not be your bag, baby.

Sincere acting lends the film a measure of dramatic dignity.

Heavily influenced by Quentin Tarantino's brand of quirky sensationalism, this high-energy saga by Paul Thomas Anderson goes a long way toward exposing the greed and stupidity of the pornography trade, then loses its moral compass and steers toward a sadly superficial ending.

Isn't terrible exactly, but it's bland, and in some ways that's worse. It's a romance posing as a detective story in which the solution is obvious and not worth the fuss.

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

Director Susanne Bier and screenwriter Christopher Kyle (no, not the man depicted in “American Sniper”) aim for a tragic monumentality but hit very wide of the mark.

This thriller was overpraised in the '60s and it still looks hokey. The acting ranges from wooden to petrified: Day and Rex Harrison are at their least convincing, and John Gavin sounds like his voice was dubbed by someone barely more British than himself. [29 Jul 1987, p.19]

Few movies have sought this particular blend of detective-story melodrama and religious sensitivity.

It delivers all the raunch and ribaldry its designated audience could hope for, but others may find it more deliberately disgusting than effervescently outrageous.

Gene Hackman is excellent when he isn't overdoing his patented nice-guy routine.

Too crisp and calculated to match the moods of its wild and woolly characters, and its interwoven subplots lead to predictable outcomes.

Certainly offbeat, but not on a level with director Kim's previous work about marginalized people.

The primary impression is lots of moping and mooning, plus a song at the beginning with some of the worst lyrics you've ever heard.

It's fun to watch superheroes who aren't quite at ease with their abilities, but "The Incredibles" - last year's similarly themed animated film - is livelier and funnier.

Alexandre Aja directs in full glop mode and the cast includes a few performers, including Ted Levine (from "Monk"), Robert Joy, and Kathleen Quinlan, who probably wish they were elsewhere.

Skip the first hour or so, but grab a seat in time for the surfing contest that climaxes the picture, complete with mile-high waves and the most graceful ocean-gliding this side of "The Endless Summer."

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.

A country singer wagers that she can teach her trade to a New York cabbie, with predictable results. Directed by Bob Clark, who mostly exploits the presold personalities of stars Dolly Parton and Sylvester Stallone.

In its depiction of the Las Vegas nightclub scene and in its own cinematic strategies, the film is quite instructive about the intersection of sex, money, and entertainment in some areas of popular American culture. [29 Sept 1995]

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?

It's big, beautiful, and imposing. But there isn't much to it, and pretty pictures -- replacing ideas, not supporting them -- are its only real attraction.