As for the dancing itself, it's nothing short of dazzling.

Not as bad as Bobby's mother's lasagna, neither is Brooklyn Rules anywhere near the best you've ever had, though at times, it may remind you of it.

This small, lovingly crafted film continually surprises with its depth and resonance.

King and Romero are a natural match, and though this isn't the best of the King-derived horror movies--The Shining and The Dead Zone probably are--it's close.

Writer-director Richard Day has come up with a delicious cliché of a plot to allow talented female impersonators Jack Plotnick, Clinton Leupp and Jeffery Roberson to strut their stuff. The result is a nonstop hoot.

For all the vivid, amusing characters that surround Gina, Beauty Shop rightly belongs to Latifah, who comes into her own as a star and an actress in this film.

It's no "E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial." (What is?) But on its own modest terms, the alien adventure Earth to Echo is a lively and likable knockoff that should divert, if not exactly enthrall, tweens and young teens.

It's not vivid or harrowing enough to command attention. Worse, at a mere 76 minutes, the movie skips past what seems like lots of crucial exposition in favor of vague flashbacks and confusing inserts. The awkward documentary-style interviews don't help.

If there's not much content -- and even less logic -- in Demons, there is a helluva lot of form. With its stark modern architecture and neon glare, West Berlin has a cold, hard atmosphere that's just right for the film, and the city has been captured gloriously by cinematographer Gianlorenzo Battaglia. [06 Sep 1986, p.13]

The hour of mike time isn't as strong as such previous dispatches as "Seriously…Funny."

Gleefully dumb but eager to entertain, this is cheeseball stuff baked with deliciously outsized performances and low comedy and photographed across mighty beautiful landscapes.

Nakache and Toledano...pepper the film with enough stirring emotional beats, crowd-pleasing bits...and vivid supporting characters such as Samba's ebullient immigrant pal, Wilson (Tahar Rahim), that there are distinct pleasures to be had.

Writer-director Nic Bettauer hits upon some important themes, including homelessness, environmentalism and the plight of the elderly, but not enough care has gone into developing the subsidiary characters who merely come across as types.

This elegant, lushly mounted film, which involves classism, communal fighting, political machinations, and religious and cultural discord, still proves timely given such world events as the Syrian refugee crisis, the Brexit controversy and Pakistan’s ongoing anti-terror campaign.

The movie itself plays more like a corporate recruitment video — or an extended episode of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” — than a deep, discerning dive into an American success story.

Though Benjamin struggles to fill her running-time, the movie mostly reaffirms that she’s a talented genre director.

Zendaya . . . has a way of rendering dialogue irrelevant. She holds a closeup here more skillfully and naturally than her co-star does, and her silence proves far more eloquent than his words. And those words turn out to be the undoing of Malcolm & Marie, not just because there are so many of them, but because they feel like the building blocks of a meta-movie parlor trick, an intellectual exercise that exists for no purpose other than its own justification.

Plays like "Transformers" for tots, a "Pinocchio" story that stays true to its source material's storied past without adding much in the way of interest, outside of some clankingly obvious political subtext that will alienate people of all stripes.

The quasi-credible friendship that develops between Emily and Harry gives way to a less plausible romance. But the winning, sympathetic Keaton and an enjoyably puckish Gleeson largely sell the contrived setup.

A vintage Clint Eastwood performance--in a film so uninvolving that you barely wake up for the big battle finale.

A sluggish drama about aging and holding onto your dreams.

The 20 or so minutes we spend with the Albatross in the squall is high adventure, to be sure. Everything else is ballast.

It’s never quite riveting enough as canon or fodder to supplant anyone’s memories of [insert favorite “Star Wars” film here].

Intermittently fun and high-spirited, Dead Man's Chest sags under the weight of its own running time.

The film supplies a succession of hyper-stylized and potent set pieces without ever establishing any sort of internal logic.

A satisfying story of love and marriage told with humor and insight.

Not good enough to be remembered past next week, not bad enough to get worked up about, “Point” is a factory product pure and simple, something to throw onto the screen until the next something comes along.

The sharp satirical edge that earned Fountain’s novel comparisons to “Catch-22” feels duller and more sluggish on the screen as Lee strains to weave his story’s dissonant tones and subplots...into a movie that works as both a compelling psychological portrait and an astute political argument.

There's a confusion that you can sense as well, with the film pulled between its light and dark sides just as the owls struggle with forces of good and evil. That hesitation keeps "Guardians" from reaching the deep, emotionally rich center that confers greatness in the animation world.

The film tries to mix the two 1930s movie comedy strains: screwball romance and populist fable. But there's something nerveless and thin about it. Hawn and Russell are good, but their scenes together have a calculated spontaneity--overcute, obvious. Director Garry Marshall keeps the lines slamming off each other briskly but with a shallow, hectoring energy. And he doesn't have much visual flair.

The film strives for some type of a girl-empowerment message that equates trading one type of conformity for another with self-determination but muffs the dismount and stumbles on the landing. In other words, it fails to Stick It.

The animal photography is what gives Benji the Hunted its greatest appeal for both children and their parents, but the film makers' notion of wild animal behavior is peculiarly suburban and misleading.

So why does Eight Legged Freaks make one laugh out loud even though there is nothing revolutionary about its approach to the giant bug genre? -- the movie is so unapologetic in its crassness that it disarms even the fussiest connoisseur of throwaway disaster flicks.

Perhaps The Heart of Me's greatest success is the way it avoids turning any of its characters into villains. They all act badly at times, but we feel for them just the same; they never lose our sympathy. Weepy or not, that's an accomplishment any kind of film can feel proud of.

A cheerful and smart mock documentary about hairdressing and Hollywood that knows enough not to take itself too seriously.

Neither funny enough to be a comedy nor serious enough to pass for drama, and it ambles along aimlessly before grinding to an unconvincing halt.

Like a lot of other Asian sci-fi anime: a stunningly imagined world of the future populated with one-dimensional characters caught up in a trite plot.

The Awakening just meanders like an aimless ghost.

Under the steady hand of writer-director Mark Elijah Rosenberg, tension and pathos build, slowly sweeping us along with the captain’s fraught yet hopeful exploration.

"Fallen Sun” is best described as a movie-size version of a “Luther” season — which, for longtime fans, is better than no “Luther” at all.

The characters are familiar movie types sufficiently fleshed out and well performed to hit all the emotional and comedic cues. The fight scenes and stunts — especially a masterfully choreographed motorcycle chase throughout the stadium — and a lack of obvious CGI provide the requisite thrills.

An imperfect, messy and sometimes trying film that has moments of genuine sweetness and humor sprinkled in between the saccharine and the sadness.

Big Trouble in Little China is a try at mock-Oriental movie magic that goes leaden about a third of the way through -- and finally detonates into great, whomping firebombs of overcalculated, underinspired absurdity. [02 July 1986, p.10]

Strouse’s deft script and Krasinki’s game direction upend a host of familiar moments in ways that are fresh and unexpected — if sometimes overly broad. The terrific cast doesn’t hurt.

For all its nonstop energy and high spirits, Can't Hardly Wait allows its characters to emerge as fully dimensional individuals; they've been written with care and perception and played with equal aplomb by a roster of talented young actors.

Simultaneously effective and uninspired, Red Sparrow is successful in fits and starts. A perfectly serviceable spy thriller, it inevitably leaves behind the feeling that a better film was possible than the one that made it to the screen.

Peirce has done a remaking rather than a reimagining.

Despite the riveting performances of Renfro and McKellen, we're left with classic horror-movie sociopaths, evil-doers without conscience, or much to say about the nature of evil.

A film that deserves scrutiny for its treatment of its young female protagonist.

While it might not bring much that's new to the coming-of-age playbook, British filmmaker Jim Loach's sensitively-observed dramedy, Measure of a Man, offers decisive proof that fresh and different is overrated when you've got a strong cast, a beautifully written script and fittingly measured direction.

That it ultimately manages to work as effectively as it does is a credit to the firm, focused visual grip of director Perelman, best known for his Oscar-nominated 2003 drama, “House of Sand and Fog,” and, especially the impressively-rooted portrayals of the two leads.

The lovely and poignant drama The Artist and the Model stirringly presents art, life and death as one irrevocably tangled trio.

The off-the-rink sequences bristle with as much passion and energy as the dazzling skating sequences, featuring some of the world’s greatest figure skaters.

The inevitable head-butting, sexually tense banter between the super-serious (and frankly dull) Cole and the vivacious, near-magically-capable Kelly never quite takes off, nor, surprisingly, does the chemistry between the two leads.

The overly familiar plot points also make the film feel a little dated.

What's missing are the kind of moments that actually matter, the ones that are so gripping that you want desperately for time to stop - to savor them, to feel the fear, the passion, the regret. Ah, well … maybe next time.

Nominally a satiric comedy, the film is only sporadically effective, running out of energy before it reaches the end.

By any rational standard, this film is kind of a mess. Even if you agree with its politics, you will probably weep at the ineptitude of it all.

Grace doesn't need a high body count to frighten, although its gore is stomach-turning. It's a horrifying meditation on the unbreakable union of mother and child.

Affleck and Paltrow, who've been excellent elsewhere, display less chemistry than they've shown in magazine photo shoots. Even Woody and Bo Peep had more going on between them in "Toy Story" than these two manage here.

A potato chip of a movie. Tasty and lightweight, it's fine for a cinematic snack, if that's what you're looking for. Making it an entire meal, however, really isn't advisable.

Priestley doesn't exploit the dramatic devices that fell into his lap.

Uncovers a fascinating and largely forgotten chapter of the game's history that is well worth revisiting.

The film is driven by a we-are-the-world connectedness, but remains a travelogue in search of a defining center. The overall impression is as fleeting as much of the imagery that flashes across the screen.

Fisher's separate visit with several still-traumatized American World War II vets who helped liberate the death camps is also stirring - and horrifying.

Despite some diffused messaging and oddly elliptical storytelling, "In the Name Of" proves an absorbing, at times hypnotic drama about religion, repression and sexuality.

Although it was made on a smaller budget, "Neverbeast" is a more coherent and entertaining film than the bizarre jukebox musical "Strange Magic."

The banter between Brian and Arielle is easy and often amusing. But despite all the tangled sheets and entwined bodies during assignations at the St. Regis hotel, the relationship never moves beyond the look of puppy love.

By ambitiously aiming to encompass the full scope and complexity of the social pandemic, Lost and Love winds up being all over the map.

Directors Jean-François Pouliot and François Brisson fail to organize the material into a coherent story or strike a consistent emotional tone.

The twisty plot mostly comes together via flashbacks, following an opening armed robbery. Too often though, Yang opts for brute force over brains, defaulting to violent fights that don't quite fit with the film's overall lightness.

Kaleidoscope is brilliantly crafted and performed, but it’s a bit too taken with its own muddling of facts and form to truly hook into.

More testimony to the experience of eating at Nobu would have helped this feel less like a commercial.

Veteran director Roger Spottiswoode has tried to pep the old warhorse up, but the combined inertia of all those pictures over 35 years proves hard to budge.

Honoring the primacy of language for his characters, Levine deftly reveals the ways they wield it to seduce, attack, manipulate, repress and, occasionally, to communicate.

White House Down is a hoot and a half, a shameless popcorn entertainment that is preposterous and diverting in just about equal measure.

The brutally efficient shooting style Reeves employs to film master choreographer Yuen Woo Ping's breathtaking fights...is refreshingly grounded and old-school kinetic.

The superb fight choreography and committed execution by the two women in the ring (real-life UFC champ Valentina Shevchenko is convincing as Jackie’s opponent), informed by Berry’s skill as an actor conveying Jackie’s desperation, make the final fight thrilling and cringe-inducing — in a good way.

For a film so grounded in the real-life issue, the movie doesn’t work to make its characters feel human or its world feel real, blunting the emotional impact it could have had.

This is not a chance to "experience the most timeless of stories as you've never seen it before" but just the opposite: an opportunity, for those who want it, to encounter this story exactly the way it's almost always been told.

While an argument can be made for it being either “too late” or “too soon,” James D. Stern’s American Chaos nevertheless serves as a handy look back on the poll-defying perfect storm that cleared Donald Trump’s path to the White House.

Perhaps we don’t need the reminder that our personal relationships with animals are some of the most special and rewarding ones that we can enjoy as human beings, but The Penguin Lessons also underscores that our relationships with people are even more important, and that sometimes animals are the best stewards for this particular journey.

Though what he does here pretty much defines coasting, Nicholson just fooling around adds an energy to even the kind of hopelessly contrived material that lets you know that the lowest common denominator just got lower.

As much a commercial for Royal Caribbean cruises as it is a dramedy about a bumpy daughter-dad reunion, Like Father swamps its workable emotional core and adept lead turns with some slapdash plotting and a raft of floating festivities.

On the surface, Anderson seems to have all the necessary pieces for a surreal psycho pop. But the fear factor eludes him, leaving Stonehearst Asylum more insipid than insane.

Sleek and satisfying....Almost a drawing room thriller, unhurried and genteel but enlivened with suspense and surprising bursts of sly, even biting, humor.

Between the punchy dialogue, the skilled cast (some comic actors, some genre stalwarts) and the impressive animation, “The Littlest Reich” is good, sick fun. It’s got puppets, it’s got gore. Who could ask for anything more?

A mostly pedestrian political thriller whose basis in true events adds little to the film's excitement or entertainment value.

A biography may have been impossible, but in spotlighting a writer who leaves no emotion or thought unexamined, this documentary won’t satisfy devotees hoping for a dive as deep as those their beloved author can produce.

Unfortunately, writer-director Ray Yeung leapfrogs over several key emotional beats and points of credibility. At the same time, he plies an ambitious slate of social, sexual and cultural messages, some more fully formed than others.

Marked by stunning locations and Jakub Bejnarowicz’s fleet, evocative cinematography, Iceman is almost like something unearthed itself: a recognizable B western sharpened as much by its glints of psychology as by its kinetic savagery.

Little attention is paid to the vernacular or physicality of the period. The depths of emotions aren’t plumbed.

For the most part this is a captivating mood piece, held together by Ricci’s take on a woman who is chasing an impossible idyll while being trailed by something dark and murky.

What begins as a promising peek into the tragic cycle of waylaid promise that's crippling broken inner-city families is itself dispiritingly pulled sideways in the Baltimore-set indie LUV.

Awkwardly balanced between comedy and significance, with plotting that gets increasingly schematic and unconvincing, My Old Lady is bound and determined to get more serious than it is capable of sustaining.

This process unfolds in terse, compelling fashion with ravishing camerawork by Agnès Godard.

Reptile, a studiously atmospheric, layer-peeling mystery from director and co-writer Grant Singer, foregrounds Del Toro — playing a calloused detective investigating a young woman’s murder — in a way that makes you want more of him. But also, regrettably, less of movies like “Reptile,” which tries to match its star’s unpredictable magnetism with a forced eeriness, only growing more ponderous and unfocused, like a case getting colder.

With two of the world's biggest stars in tow, the creators of The Devil's Own can be forgiven for figuring that nothing else really mattered. If you've got Harrison Ford and Brad Pitt, do you really need a coherent script? Unfortunately for everyone concerned, the answer is yes.