It may not matter to audiences that this film...is junk. But shouldn’t it matter at least to Hawn and Schumer?

At times this indie is as repetitive and self-indulgent as its protagonist, but it captures a bit of the madness of being unrequitedly in love.

Intended as a parody of B-movie fantasies from the '50s, this satire more directly lampoons kiddie thrillers like "Captain Video," putting it perilously close to the pop-culture trash it aims to mock.

Far from a great film, but it certainly stretches the envelope.

Too bad the acting is uneven. And the ineptly done English subtitles will have you laughing in all the wrong places.

True-blue golf buffs should find it a treat. For others it's no deeper than a tin cup on a putting green.

Some scenes are just silly, others are dead-on uproarious. Ditka, a real-life football legend, is a real find as our hero's assistant.

One of a kind, turning Foreman trademarks such as self-satirical acting and out-of-nowhere music into powerful elements of an outlandish story.

Judged by the standards of ordinary filmmaking, it's as strange, suggestive, and surreal as other Lynch pictures have been. Judged by the standards of Lynch's own career, however, it's amazingly stale and second-hand… [and] contains not a single moment of genuinely felt emotion. [1 Sept 1992]

Country Strong is the latest and, in many ways, the least impressive entrant in the achy-breaky sweepstakes.

As a movie, it's mediocre.

The opening action sequence, unrelated to the main story, is nicely done, but after that it's all downhill.

The result is fine fantasy fun.

Spoiled by its simplistic portrait of people from the Mideast as incorrigibly violent and untrustworthy.

Solomon keeps the drama generally clear and interesting, though some touches make the film-noir plot seem too pretentious.

While the production is attractive in a calendar-photo sort of way, there's not a speck of genuine feeling in its glossy images.

Based on a popular book by Betty MacDonald, the story is silly at best, woefully predictable at worst. MacMurray and Colbert are in excellent form, though, and Louise Albritton heads a colorful cast of supporting players. [14 Oct 1987, p.21]

Taylor is utterly believable even when the screenplay (from an Anne Tyler novel) is too self-consciously quirky, and Pearce nicely portrays the guy she obsesses over.

Raimi’s film is supposed to be about magic, but magic is in scant supply.

Ratner, who has been accurately dubbed a "fauxteur," does an OK job keeping the action swirling, especially in the finale atop the Eiffel Tower.

In more ways than one, MacFarlane is trying to outgross Mel Brooks.

While the story has few surprises, parts of it are amusing and the performances are convincing.

It’s all third-rate “Pink Panther” stuff, and Brosnan, eager to play down his 007 bona fides, overcorrects.

Polanski's directing is marvelously assured and Depp is always fun to watch.

Fiction and fantasy to evade reflection on the world we actually live in.

The movie is visually impressive, but Ishii's virtuoso style can't overcome the flatness of the comic-book story he's telling.

The result is what you might call a mass-audience art film. It doesn't entirely succeed, but it's certainly a change from today's standard mysteries and horror movies.

Boorman treats this moving, important subject with restraint, tact, and candid views of horrors suffered by the nation.