For 3,750 reviews, this publication has graded:
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46% higher than the average critic
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3% same as the average critic
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51% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 8.8 points lower than other critics.
(0-100 point scale)
Average Movie review score: 56
| Highest review score: | A Bread Factory Part Two: Walk With Me a While | |
|---|---|---|
| Lowest review score: | Deuces Wild |
Score distribution:
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Positive: 1,540 out of 3750
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Mixed: 1,542 out of 3750
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Negative: 668 out of 3750
3750
movie
reviews
- By Date
- By Critic Score
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- Critic Score
Credit the Hugheses for plunging headfirst into a deeply taboo topic, but they're doing it for the wrong reasons and thus playing into the worst of public stereotypes, namely that all black men are hustlers.- L.A. Weekly
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Manohla Dargis
Some of the funny stuff is actually funny, some of it is funny and yucky, but most of it is just stupid.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
Meant as a return to the form and substance of Allen's far superior early work satirizing the equivocations and betrayals with which we ruin our lives. In fact, the movie only comes alive as a hostile critique of psychoanalysis.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
IMAX magnifies everything, including flaws, which are legion in this listless, awkward prequel to the 1979 movie based on the novel by Walter and Steven Farley.- L.A. Weekly
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Ernest Hardy
Orlando Jones, buff and commanding, steals the film as Soul Train, a lawyer-biker, while Lisa Bonet, a sexy, enigmatic earth mother, is stranded in a movie that has no idea what to do with her.- L.A. Weekly
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Chuck Wilson
The killer in this nasty yet taut slice-and-dice 'em horror flick is a collector of eyeballs, which he removes from his screaming victims with an efficient single swooping motion of his talon-like index finger. If that image makes you grin not cringe, then this movie's for you.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
Stephen Campbell Moore is miserably out of his depth as the playboy trying to tempt Scarlett, leaving poor Tom Wilkinson to sound a lone note of sophisticated intelligence.- L.A. Weekly
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Scott Foundas
The Hard Word’s greatest betrayal, however, is of its cast, of Pearce (hamming it up as the charismatic antihero) and Griffiths (as sexy as ever, but more or less abandoned by the movie midway through), who give it their all but get very little in return.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
Falls prey to the lazy assumption that a parade of whiz-bang CGI will cover for the absence of a muscular story.- L.A. Weekly
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Manohla Dargis
One of those movie equivalents of a freeway pileup -- it's a mess, at once insistently watchable and a total dead end.- L.A. Weekly
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Nick Pinkerton
Between such shots of inspiration, Matsumoto’s mock-doc framework seems a lazy stock device, interviews playing more dead than deadpan and failing to exceed an over-familiar comic-pathetic attitude toward the lives of functionaries.- L.A. Weekly
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Chuck Wilson
Eventually it all starts to feel like an extended European perfume ad: pretty but eye-rollingly pretentious.- L.A. Weekly
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Ernest Hardy
For all the violence and breaking-up-to-make-up that go on, there's never really a sense of risk or exploration, and the film's pulse never rises above faint.- L.A. Weekly
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Chuck Wilson
Three leads do their best with simplistic characters.- L.A. Weekly
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Scott Foundas
Jacobs and his writers are notably more interested in creepy atmosphere -- and in contemplating the order of the universe -- than in jump-in-your-seat jolts. But well before day breaks, it's the movie’s plot (which would have made for an outstanding Outer Limits episode) that has come to seem stuck in an endless loop.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
Without the actor’s name and amiably demented grin, Go Further would be an unspeakably tedious and preachy travelogue. With them, this insupportably long home movie, unremarkably directed by Ron Mann, is merely dull.- L.A. Weekly
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Ron Stringer
Calculated to titillate middlebrow audiences on both sides of la Manche.- L.A. Weekly
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- L.A. Weekly
- Posted Oct 25, 2018
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Reviewed by
Ella Taylor
As a thriller, People I Know -- which has languished unreleased since 2001 -- is barely plausible. As a critique of the meshing of power politics between East and West coasts, the movie is more smart-alecky than wise.- L.A. Weekly
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- Critic Score
The gags themselves only marginally work when they stick to silly non sequitur; the random movie references are forced and flat, and the takeoffs of "Dreamgirls" and "Fame" songs would make "Weird Al" groan.- L.A. Weekly
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- Critic Score
How could a movie about someone with one of the nation's longest FBI files be this dull?- L.A. Weekly
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Reviewed by
Hazel-Dawn Dumpert
Nothing, in fact, really fits together, most notably the partnership of Ford and Hartnett: Looking weathered yet professional, Ford carries what he can, but pretty and sullen Hartnett barely comes to life, leaving his partner stranded, and straining.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
Where else could this flabby excuse for a women's movie go? Straight to the Oxygen Channel, if it's lucky.- L.A. Weekly
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Ella Taylor
The movie has a script (by Paul Pender) made of wood, and it's relentlessly folksy, a procession of stagy set pieces stacked with binary oppositions.- L.A. Weekly
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- Critic Score
The Last Time seems even more hapless than the Midwestern rube it's skewering.- L.A. Weekly
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Reviewed by
Kim Morgan
For too many minutes of its two and a half hours, Ray flips through its cinematic pages with a breathless and-then-this-happened urgency, offering up little in the way of personality (or truth) beyond Jamie Foxx's strong performance.- L.A. Weekly
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Ernest Hardy
The film offers no new insights into its people or into the dynamics of the Hollywood machine -- the whole affair, played for low-intensity laughs, is numbingly familiar.- L.A. Weekly
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David Chute
Ultimately, The Hidden Half is shopworn feminist soap opera, enacted in a political echo chamber.- L.A. Weekly
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- L.A. Weekly
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Ernest Hardy
Danner, the film's sole strength, does what she can with the material, but it's not enough to offset writer-director Daniel Adams' cliché-ridden script and leaden direction, or the excruciating hamfest that is Richard Dreyfuss' lead performance.- L.A. Weekly
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