Suffers from a script that places dramatic emphasis in all the wrong places.

Once at sea, The Perfect Storm collapses in a heap of spectacle and a dubious piling-on of scary incidents.

These film-making provocateurs are divided between sweet and sour, between the romance of classic screwball comedy and Mad magazine on acid.

Actions do have their consequences, though, and Weitz doesn’t try to end things too tidily for their own good. Were only that he had succeeded in committing to one of those films over the other, then Admission might have been this year’s “Liberal Arts” rather than this year’s “Smart People.”

Leaves almost no impression at all.

Using current hand-held camera technology to ape the political and esthetic sensibility of the 1960s.

Co-writers and stars June Diane Raphael (“Whitney,” “New Girl”) and Casey Wilson (“Happy Endings”) are genuine and true comic performers. Even though the story stunk, the set pieces were uninspired and the direction was downright wretched, when these two are “on” and doing schtick, they are absolutely fresh and hilarious.

(Herron) just doesn't make the case that this book was worth filming.

While we may like what we see, it's impossible to comprehend what much of it means or why we should care.

Ambitious and perversely fascinating.

Its grimness is so unrelenting that I can only recommend it to filmgoers who need a movie to tell them that incest is bad.

Given Garant and Lennon’s background on “The State” and “Reno 911,” their scattershot approach as filmmakers isn’t especially surprising; for every oddly specific Shakespeare reference or detour to the local po-boy joint, there’s an ongoing parade of puke and an awful rubber suit with which to contend.

For 8- to 12-year-olds and the grownups who love them, Recess is a pleasant Saturday-matinee diversion. The fact that it doesn't aim to be anything more is, in its own way, a blessed relief.

It has its moments.

The audience is ready for an unhappy ending -- and Hollywood should have the courage to provide it.

Tries so hard to push all the pre-ordained buttons, and it's so anxious to be liked, nay, adored, that it left me sullen and uninvolved instead.

Simply can't sustain interest for much of its final hour.

Enough pep in this picture to make it rise above teen-movie expectations.

Does a lot of little stuff right, and it sparkles at times.

You just watch one carefully constructed but emotionally vacant image piled up on another - sometimes with regard to an overall effect, but often just for the sake of style over substance.

If the current flood of pre-millennial tension movies teaches us nothing else, it demonstrates how desperate we've all become to see whether we could make our peace in the time provided, if forced to by circumstances beyond our control.

Destined to be remembered not for its laugh-per-minute ratio, but for breaking a barrier of crudeness in mainstream movies.

Lawrence's style is purely will-it-stick-the-wall-or-not, and when it doesn't he looks pretty puny up there on the big screen.

An embarrassing gut-punch of unfiltered schmaltz, but its sympathy for the devil-style humanism is well-meaning.

It may be possible that people who never go to the movies will stumble across Blow Dry and find it a charming way to spend an hour and a half, but the rest of us will have the ending written in our heads by the end of the first five minutes.

So self-conscious that it alienates the viewer early and often.

Both Tipton and Teller are better than this material.

Palpably well-intentioned, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is nevertheless phony to the core.