Falls flat on screen, weighed down by far-fetched plot twists.

The film is more testimonial than drama.

De Niro, in what amounts to an extended cameo, is radically miscast. That's still no excuse for his nonperformance, which is beyond lackluster.

Good acting and an effectively claustrophobic mood compensate for a story that doesn't add up to much in the long run.

The comedy is often crass and crude, but it makes telling points about how much of "race" is more about the words and gestures we use than the actual colors of our skins.

Harrelson hits just the right sardonic note in this self-mocking crime drama, but look out for grisly touches along the way.

Like most movies aimed at the younger set, Racing Stripes has easily absorbable lessons to teach: Be yourself, never stop trying if your goal is worthwhile, and so forth.

The fact remains that some Treks are better than others, and ''The Final Frontier'' doesn't have the surprising warmth of the very best. It's diverting, but forgettable. [19 June 1989, p.15]

The CGI effects in this film, directed by Brad Peyton, are quite remarkable and help take one’s mind off the cornball disaster-brings-families-together underpinnings.

The film is a dutiful attempt to convey some of the vehemence of the novel – of the counterculture of the 1960s and early ’70s especially – but McGregor, making his directorial debut, lacks the temperament to do this era justice. He’s an innocent bystander in the melee.

Normally I'd watch Helen Mirren in anything, even if she was just putting out the laundry or reading the phone book. But, given the roteness of her line readings here, it might have been better if the phone book rather than Shakespeare was her text.

This is one of those movies that profits from very low expectations. If you go in expecting something dreadful, be assured: It's only near dreadful.

Has amusing bits of social satire, but they're crowded out of the stable by lots of bathroom and barnyard humor.

Lively acting and stylish directing make this an engaging comedy-drama, although its attitude toward guns and violence is disconcertingly romantic.

Uninspired thriller-comedy.

Sex, drugs, delirious camera work, and a great deal of noise are the foundations of this aggressively bizarre Australian production. [9 Oct 1987, p.21]

Likable performances, but the story's brash and hyper, though sweet, delivery grows wearing, especially the sexual innuendo.

It's always hard to predict what Winterbottom will try next, but this experiment isn't worth repeating, the lively concert scenes notwithstanding. Be forewarned that the sexual scenes aren't simulated.

The story is irresponsible and the filmmaking is awful.

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

The story is less original than its setting - it knocks off everything from "Lord of the Flies" to "The Blair Witch Project" -and its unromantic moods may make DiCaprio's countless "Titanic" fans want to swim in the opposite direction.

This is a quintessential Allen comedy: squirmy relationships, dark Jewish humor, an assumption that everybody in Manhattan has money and a touch of glamour, and -- as with most of Allen's movies since the first few years of his career -- not nearly as many laughs as it gamely tries for.

The suspense sequences are straight from the standard Hollywood blueprint, and the movie as a whole is so sloppily assembled that it's almost incoherent at times.

This romantic adventure is corny fun, and it's amusing to hear Sean Connery's elegant Scottish accent jangle against Lorraine Bracco's feisty Bronx twang. The movie is more picturesque than memorable, though. [13 Feb 1992, p.13]

Braff plays Aidan with easygoing exasperation and Hudson is better than I’ve seen her since “Almost Famous.” As a director, Braff touches on lots of Big Themes: mortality, marriage, fatherhood, the disillusion of dreams. Nothing quite comes to full boil, though.

Director Len Wiseman is good on action, and Patrick Tatopoulus's dystopic production design is within hailing distance of "Blade Runner," his chief influence. But essentially this is a big-screen video game.

Although overlong, the picture has a fair measure of jolts and surprises.

Woo's customary action-film pyrotechnics gather more substance than usual from the implausible but inventive plot, drawn from a Philip K. Dick story.