The resulting concoction is a cinematic elixir that disappoints, no matter how much hypnosis one is under.

When a cast of minor characters is more interesting than the protagonist, you begin to wish that you were watching a movie about any of them instead.

Good ensemble performances in front of the camera are supported by clever shooting and cutting, which work, not just deftly but unobtrusively so, with and within the readily apparent technical limitations at hand.

With its clumsy storytelling and lack of someone to filter Duvall's gushiness about the subject matter, Assassination Tango winds up shooting itself in its own dancing feet.

After all is said and done, it seems like the jokes during the end credits are the tow truck of the movie, the engine quitting after the halfway point.

The Zellner Brothers wanted to create something that pokes fun at the genre and mixes things up in a creative and refreshing way. Unfortunately, the result is mildly funny and disappointingly predictable film.

An admirable film, but its charms will be visible only to the most patient filmgoers.

There's no denying Banderas' talent as an actor, and he's admittedly fun to watch. The rest of the cast are serviceable, meaning Woodard finds new ways to show us how this Latin heartthrob melts her icy exterior.

About the only thing suicidal in this lethargic crime drama is the convoluted script that wastes two fine performances by Christopher Walken and Denis Leary.

Tough Guy: The Bob Probert Story does a good job revealing the man behind the battered visage, on many levels humanizing the excessively partying, hard-hitting Probert. However, the filmmaker chokes when it matters most. He fails to do a deep dive into how this ongoing physical punishment adversely affected the health of Probert (and many of these so-called enforcers) while giving a pass to the NHL’s willful negligence and tacit acceptance or this carnage.

If you can wait until near the end, you're in for some fun. But after an hour-plus, it's a pretty long wait.

If you like Chan's Hong Kong films, you'll like this. Much of the "dramatic" work and dialogue are horrible but the stunt work here is actually superior to many of Chan's films.

It isn’t the worst romantic comedy I have ever seen.

Recycles a great many motifs from "Truman" but never comes close to putting on as good a show.

Fans of "Henry Fool" in particular, however, may dislike the complete disregard for the characters of the original film. But the most fervent of Hartley followers can praise the film as a brilliant deconstruction of the tacked-on cinematic sequel.

Like all of its predecessors, its overtly political message can’t decide whether its violence is justified or glorified. This means it sits right at average.

Analyze This plays "The Godfather" bit, fast and funny, it just picked a framework it should have refused.

With a couple of plot twists and a few powerful performances, Deuces Wild is worth checking out -- but only on home video.

There is a lot to like in Kaaterskill Falls. The characters are engaging and believable even when events stretch the envelope of realistic behavior.

Blue Night plods along for 96 Minutes, creating a surface-level exploration of its character’s life.

What this movie needed was a leaner narrative focusing on Earl and Marshall while keeping Moore’s character in the background. What we end up with is a goofy and occasionally enjoyable mix of horror, comedy, and action that can’t entirely shed its excess narrative flab.

It’s a huge task to cover a man’s entire journey to finish one piece of work, and The War and Peace of Tim O’Brien does an adequate job of giving an objective eye into Tim O’Brien’s life.

The pacing is brisk-something wacky happens every couple of minutes, the editing crisp and the effects promising. Then disaster strikes: the first act gives way to the relative witlessness of the second and third.

Slightly less than lovable. It’s a strained romantic comedy that starts promisingly, takes a hard left turn and slowly falls apart.

Should the likes of Burstyn, Flanagan, Smith, and Knight have to be reduced to playing eccentric caricatures of aging Southern belles?

Misses the boat by essentially acting as a positive press release for the now-defunct Kozmo.com.

Elegy's last act is a mournful smorgasbord of bathos in which major and supporting characters alike drop like flies. The body count is practically Shakespearean. The same, regrettably, can't be said for Coixet's touch when it comes to tragedy.

While admirable in its ambition, the end result just doesn’t quite gel. Cool poster, though.