It's a perfect role for Jolie, whose seductive looks always seem to be concealing something dangerous, even predatory, and she brings out a looseness in Pitt, who fares much better in comedic roles than when playing things straight and stoic (i.e. Troy).

When Ephron gives Ferrell and Kidman a musical number that's supposed to be sweet and uplifting, the movie feels downright creepy.

There was a fine family drama to be made here, but what we get instead is too sweet to swallow.

The movie is sloppy and scattershot, and proud of it. It wears its slipshod, anything-for-a-laugh structure like a badge of honor: Smith is nothing if not self-deprecating.

Directed by Russell Mulcahy (the Highlander movies), the movie never generates enough suspense to keep the storyline moving. The visual effects are splashed about carelessly, weakening the would-be climactic showdown. [01 Jul 1994, p.G5]

Six years after its release, "City of God" is still electrifying and fresh: It hasn't aged a bit. City of Men, though, already feels strangely stale.

Supergirl was directed by Jeannot Szwarc, whose previous big credit was Jaws II. The two films have something in common beyond their status as sequels to successful originals; both have a curiously flat, almost stale feel about them. And both are as disposable as Supertissue. [21 Nov 1984, p.C1]

It's much easier to linger on his youthful idealism than on how that idealism eventually manifested itself. It certainly makes for a much prettier picture. But when your subject is Ernesto ''Che'' Guevara, it is disingenuous.

Crazy People is one of those sky-high-concept titles, you know? A film with that title had better deliver, had better be stone crazy, wacky to the bone, nuts. With a title that blunt, you don't want to wind up with warmed-over farce of the sort that used to cast Dudley Moore opposite a tall, blond beauty....Uh-oh. [11 Apr 1990, p.D1]

A psychological thriller in serious need of both psychology and thrills, Cassandra's Dream is a wan, exceedingly minor drama by Woody Allen, who has started to recycle himself in London the way he had long been recycling his New York City pictures.

Frothy as it is, SATC2 is best when it's about the women, not the wardrobe.

The film's opening credits are terrific, and the first 10 or 15 minutes -- in which Ford and Arthur speedily load up on beer at the local pub -- are absorbing and funny. It's such a promising start that it's doubly deflating to realize that once they land on Zaphod's spaceship, the humor vaporizes.

Late Marriage's stiffness is unlikely to demonstrate the emotional clout to sweep U.S. viewers off their feet.

Next begins to seriously embarrass itself and its stars -- except for Biel, surprisingly, who manages to escape with a shred of dignity, possibly because her role requires little beyond looking gorgeous -- once it rolls to its climax.

Douglas' performance is surprisingly dull, and he has a script to match (by Diane Thomas). Moral: Remaking Raiders is harder than it looks. [04 Apr 1984, p.B6]

While Circuitry has its pleasures, it's not as intelligent as "Modulations," a previous documentary on the subject, and its focus is a bit skewed.

If you're making a movie that purports to be about real love, at the very least, you have to make the audience care whether the lovers work out their problems.

Smart People tastes as fake as a Wal-Mart corn dog. Besides, it doesn't even know the work is Faerie Queen, not ''Fairie.'' Somewhere, Edmund Spenser is turning in his grave. You don't even have to be smart to know that.

Despite its entertaining and insightful dialogue, can also be a bore.

This is also the first of the s-and-s films to give sex nearly equal time with disembowelment, a story concept we can only cheer. [6 Sept 1983, p.B5]

Under Siege is never at all convincing -- everything about the battleship (except the exterior shots) seems small and understaffed. There are supposed to be 30 bad guys, but they appear to outnumber the crew, and the interior scenes of the battleship's command stations are barely more ambitious than Star Trek's bridge. [12 Oct 1992, p.C3]

This is precisely the type of moviegoing experience engineered for those who still get a laugh when the Baha Men hit "Who Let the Dogs Out?" accompanies a doggie mayhem montage.

It's an exploitation B-flick with a grade-A cast. [17 Mar 1995, p.5G]

Turns resoundingly dumb in its last 40 minutes.

Beaches is the never-less-than-maudlin soap opera about two childhood pen pals who meet again as adults, enjoy triumphs and endure failures, and wind up watching their story climax via a Fatal Illness straight out of Terms of Endearment. It's what used to be called a "women's picture." [13 Jan 1989, p.C5]

Suffers from a fatal lack of purpose. This sleek, visually inventive but frustratingly flat movie is made up entirely of throwaway bits -- occasionally amusing, even ingenious bits. But still, they're just bits.

The biggest offense in the somewhat unimaginative but serviceable legal thriller High Crimes is that the venerable Morgan Freeman simply does not get enough screen time, and when he's up there, he doesn't have enough to do.

Certainly pleasant, and occasionally endearing, but it's also strangely empty and unsatisfying, like hearing about someone else's wild dream: You can appreciate the details, but you don't really care how it turns out.