Eureka is vintage Roeg in its sweep, its bravado, and its explosive visual style. It's also a murky stew of half-baked story ideas, overcooked sex, and nasty violence, inhabited by characters who'd be tedious even if they didn't talk, talk, talk through one self-indulgent scene after another. [11 Sep 1985, p.23]

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.

Eastwood and Morgan are not con artists, but their awe here is so unblinking that their film comes across as a transcendent con job.

It’s like an over-the-hill gang variant on “The Dirty Dozen,” except not as much fun as that sounds.

Is Malick deliberately courting self-parody here? Probably not. That would imply he had a sense of humor.

It seems a bit cruel to cast Garner, who exudes charm, in such a charmless role.

The story is harmless enough, with its bloodless violence and happy resolutions. The images are a bland mixture of cliches lifted from Tolkien and "Star Wars," among other sources, served up in wretched TV-style animation. Little children may like it, but they won't be richer for it. [06 Jun 1985, p.31]

Surprisingly, this is the work of director Martin Ritt and Sally Field, the star whose Norma Rae combined sharp drama with keen social awareness. Their new film is the junky underside of that good movie. [26 Mar 1981, p.19]

Oldman makes a four-course dinner out of the scenery with enough slash and burn to leave you wondering if he is vying with Nicolas Cage for the title of filmdom's biggest hambone.

If you go to Burlesque expecting a campy hoot on the order of "Showgirls," you may be in for a disappointment. It's not quite awful enough, although it's plenty bad.

Wilson does his callow good-guy routine (if you close your eyes you'd swear he was his brother, Owen) and Thurman looks as if she'd rather be stalking prey in "Kill Bill."

Morgan is a wonderful writer when he's working from the headlines, but his "personal" movies, like "Hereafter" and this one, release a bleary, pseudo-profound aspect of his talent that's best left in the dark.

The jokes mostly fall flat and the dramatic scenes fall even flatter.

If you have claustrophobia and/or fear insects, the last film you should see is Bug. I'm not sure it's worth a trip even if you don't suffer from those maladies.

Sadly, it lacks the classic awfulness that might have lifted it into the pantheon of Truly Bad Movies. Instead, what we have here is a garden variety bad movie, of which there have been all too many lately.

Potty jokes and bawdy gross-outs predominate, and the few good laughs are swamped by the overall laughlessness.

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

The Golden Compass is a blatant attempt to duplicate the success of the "Harry Potter" franchise. The only thing missing is richly imagined characters, a comprehensible story line, good acting, and satisfying special effects.

It occurred to me that Emmerich and Co. might be playing this whole thing for laughs. It probably occurred to them, too.

This thinly autobiographical gangsta odyssey never achieves liftoff, and Jackson is unconvincing.

Given the fact that Life was co-written by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, who co-wrote the wacked-out “Zombieland” and “Deadpool,” the film’s glum earnestness is doubly disappointing.

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.

If you're the kind of moviegoer who likes puzzling out the plots of insoluble movies, then by all means rush to see Stay, a great big blurry mess.

The flashback sequences sometimes come across like "'For Whom the Bell Tolls' for Dummies."

Foster seems blinkered and tone-deaf to what's actually appearing onscreen.

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

Writer-director Massy Tadjedin cuts back and forth between these twin temptations. Will Michael succumb and prove Joanna correct in her suspicions? Will Alex's French accent conquer all? Do you care? I didn't.

Both as a writer and as a man, Salinger was nothing if not unconventional. Rebel in the Rye is so tasteful that it practically slides off the screen.