The true star of this film, funny and often breathtakingly lovely, Zellweger carries virtually every scene in which she appears -- which aren't nearly as plentiful as one might like.

The most frightening thing about the franchise at this point is that it just keeps on going, undaunted by the characteristics by which the first film made its name. Family is still family and a brand is still a brand, but the blade… well, it’s only grown dull.

Not every book should be made into a film and, as appears to be the case with Winter’s Tale, not every book can be (especially this one).

The absolute antithesis to the pioneering punk spirit it tries to portray.

The franchise is sent off in style, a reminder of why it earned such praise and affection in the first place, the wolfpack giving us one final howl at the moon.

Ambitious and perversely fascinating.

Rob Schneider's stab at an "Ace Ventura"-like gamble for stardom.

That it’s not totally dialed in throughout makes it a victim of the same thing most bad movies fall prey to: having the spark of a great idea rested awkwardly on top of a spinning mess of execution.

Merely reconfigures the same predictable gross-out jokes, sentimental platitudes, and decorative sex that figure into half the screenplays in circulation.

Just another lame slacker comedy.

Recycled "Steel Magnolias."

The film is confusingly and sloppily put together, edited down to the point that the few genuine jokes of Let’s Be Cops are given precious little time to breathe, before zipping into the next sequence of increasingly irrational events.

If you're already a huge fan of any of these artists, this film will be a lovefest. For all others, it's a mild diversion at best.

For Stallone, and his original script for Driven reflects a more mature, self-effacing perspective.

Self-conscious clunker.

Should satisfy the planet of b-boys and girls to whom it preaches.

It's insulting and devalues the experience of watching not just this film but all films.

Lurches on for the better part of two hours with a ludicrous plot and even worse dialogue, interspersed with what look like excerpts from a music video made by some naughty Catholic-school graduates.

The entire enterprise is a bewildering mess, put in place only to frustrate and alienate anyone who buys a ticket. Every action scene is telegraphed, and most of the dialogue is irrevocably stupid.

Every scene of Danny Mooney’s directorial debut is brightly lit, every car squeaky clean, every moral dilemma transparent, with evidently thorough period detail undone by production values that lend even the riots an idyllic glow, while foiling the potential for truly dramatic conflict with leaden dialogue and predictable changes of heart.

Insufferably boring, culturally hegemonic, and profoundly ugly.

It's little more than a loose assemblage of Hollywood action movie formulas: "Dirty Harry" and assorted cop/buddy flicks are the clear models for the movie.

Are two Demis better than one? How you answer will determine the level of patience you'll need to sit through this bizarre pet project.

Maladies is at least watchable, though just barely.

The rare example of a film that had to have been a tonal mystery to everyone involved for the entire process of scripting, shooting, and editing. The lingering issue? They never managed to crack the case.

Kids -- may like this movie. But kids like green ketchup, so what do they know?

Drop Dead Gorgeous eventually shows that it doesn't like anybody -- in the movie or in the audience.

The effects never really get ahead of the characters or the script's layered personality.