If horror flicks came in cans like fake spaghetti, this would be the kind of can-shaped wormy mess that would slowly ooze out when held upside down and shaken.

I found myself just not engaging with the lead characters and storyline as much as I like. In the end, I was just observing people dealing with a problem, while never able to be in the story as it played out.

Takes an unimaginative love story and stretches it as far as possible in an attempt to make it epically grand. Instead, the end result plays out like a George Lucas film without spaceships and lightsabers.

Okay, this isn’t a great film. Maybe it’s not even a good film. But for 1954, “The Last Time I Saw Paris” filled the bill with enough mindless silliness to keep people amused for two hours. Even today, it’s good for a cynical laugh.

If you're looking for Rock's trademark smart-ass wit, you'll want to look somewhere else. Likewise when it comes to a movie with something fresh to say about the balancing act that is wedded bliss.

Hey, I'm not saying it's bad. It's kind of entertaining, what I can recall of it after two days. It's, uh, okay. Just okay, though.

This is a story about purgatory, though it goes by the name Camp Pendleton.

It looks stylish, sure, but the script is laughable and the acting is ridiculous.

Try as I might, I just wasn’t all that invested in the fate of Alex and Sean or their own private close encounter with the third kind. Which is a shame as the filmmaker shows a keen flair for creating both an interesting visual and aural palette.

For a documentary about drama and all those who love it, director Alexandra Shiva's lukewarm study displays very little of it.

A little boring and extremely long for what it is, all that Azumi really has going for it are several eye-popping battle sequences, including the climax which is a totally delicious celebration of graphic violence, and some nice camera work.

We’re left with a perhaps too tidy ending that picks up the spirits but doesn’t delve into the questions about human nature that the movie raises. Had it dug a bit deeper, it might have been something more than the overall pleasant entertainment vehicle that it is.

If you bought into the messy magic of the first film, you will undoubtedly find much in which to revel with its successor.

Summer Night has an easy, breezy presence about it, but there’s not much going on beneath the surface.

Tells a fascinating story backed up by solid, compelling performances by Rockwell and Henson.

Confused and dramatically overwrought.

A two-time Oscar winner playing a crazy person in a big studio film released in late October. Can't you just smell the pretension? Probably not, given the other ways in which this film stinks.

It's the kind of movie you watch on a rainy Saturday night with a glass of wine and a fire crackling in the fireplace. It's a film that's meant to be contemplated, but not discussed. And it's all about what happens when you take the easy way out.

This is a great film, to a point. Unfortunately the ending doesn't deliver, making the entire feature an exercise is wasted potential. But maybe that's the point.

Aaron Fisher’s debut film is decidedly a comedy, but never draws its laughs by making light or fun of Fisher’s real struggles. He just lays his life out there, and its humorous moments bubble to the surface. Amidst the laughs come genuine and authentic moments from Fisher’s personal experiences.

This is all competently executed, as Prior and Zagorodnii have impressive chemistry, and Rebane allows their performances to take center stage. Unfortunately, even though the two leads are a joy to watch, we can’t help but feel that we’ve seen what Firebird is offering before.

The Tomorrow Man is not one of these high-dramas with something profound to say about human natures. It’s more a chance to watch two veteran actors in John Lithgow and Blythe Danner do what they spent their entire lives doing, and that’s act and act real damn good. They find that right balance between being normal and quirky to turn out a grounded performance.