The film's failure to adhere to one of the most important rules of humor -- never give extensive screen time to someone who is not the slightest bit funny -- prevents it from being a completely enjoyable, if silly, romp.

Don't expect perfection, and you'll emerge from this goofy movie all in one piece, with reasonably entertained kids and a milder headache.

When the action founders on cliches and implausibilities, there are only the characters to fall back on. And this time, they're papier-mache. [13 May 1983, p.C2]

The movie wants to be an exploration of family ties and the various ways in which the people we love respond in times of crisis, but the drama is unconvincing, the characters are ill-defined, and Fischer, so good on The Office, seems a bit incomplete without Jim at her side.

Not as bad a movie as it sounds, just mediocre.

Fascinating in concept but a disaster in execution.

Nothing here for the time capsule, make no mistake. But the Boz seems to have found a calling. [21 May 1991, p.C1]

For a while, director Joe Dante spins some daft gags off the situation, and Hanks and Fisher deliver their droller lines with a deadpan sincerity that produces genuine unease. But it turns out that there isn't really much of a script here, and soon The 'Burbs has devolved into a slow build to the big anti-climax. [17 Feb 1989, p.10]

As in his other comedies (e.g., The In-Laws and Silver Streak), Arthur Hiller directs the action in fits and starts, following each burst of energy with what seems like a quarter- hour's rest period. He presents us with major or minor instances of inappropriate behavior, then sits back and waits for humor to emerge from the confusion. [19 Jun 1982, p.C6]

Everyone, including the candidates, will recognize the importance of civic duty, leaving Swing Vote to end with swelling music and uplifting speechifying but on a completely unsatisfactory note.

Stone isn't the straightforward thriller it appears to be, but the alternative turns out to be dull and lifeless. At least the title is apt: Like a rock, Stone has no pulse.

You might call My Sister's Keeper manipulative, and you would not be inaccurate.

A pastiche so derivative and pointless, it leaves you wishing Allen had not bothered.

Director Albert Pyun also knows his B-movie tricks -- catchy camera work, slow motion, minimal dialogue and even some dime-store Christ imagery. It's a shame he didn't have a better script. [07 Apr 1989, p.5]

Starts out feeling formidable in scope and theme but ends up awfully small and precious.

The fact that you won't remember any of these names for more than a minute should indicate exactly how much depth each character displays.

This movie Mozart seems little more than a wild and crazy music-maker, whose biggest problem was that his compositions had "too many notes." And that, as Forman's Mozart might say, ain't much. [20 Sep 1984, p.C1]

The movie takes an excessively long time to cover short narrative ground, and the plot is muddled enough to confuse the target audience. [24 Mar 1993, p.E5]

While the gore has made the jump safely, the wit seems to have disappeared. [13 Jan 1995, p.6G]

The movie is all visuals and atmosphere without an effective structure. It doesn't move you, it's on display. [24 Feb 1990, p.E5]

Unfaithfully Yours turns mildly manic in its last half-hour or so, but it's not enough to redeem that first hour, when Moore and Kinski go through familiar motions in search of something special. For too much of their movie, what they're looking for isn't there. [13 Feb 1984, p.C6]

The last 40 minutes test your patience -- and intelligence -- in a way the rest of this big, dumb, crazy movie never does:

Something happened to Mark Medoff's moving Children of a Lesser God in its translation from stage to screen: Somebody turned it into a soft-focus Hallmark card about deaf people. [3 Oct 1986, p.D1]

The movie is intentionally elusive, like a memory you can’t quite fully recall, but the result has all the depth and weight of a greeting card.

George Burns gets to play both sides of the cosmic fence in Oh God! You Devil, which is actually Oh God! III, and it's this device alone that saves the film, which might otherwise be unbearably cute. [12 Nov 1984, p.C1]

Neurotic New Yorkers, messed up relationships, inept analysts, infidelity -- Ira & Abby has them all, and it's anything but refreshing to trudge through this well-worn territory again.

Suffers from an episodic script and an overly long running time plagued by too many dull, laugh-free patches.

The screenplay by W.D. Richter (The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai) turns Needful Things into a pitch-black comedy -- a rather lifeless one, unfortunately. There are more laughs than scares, though the movie still carries a creepy undercurrent of nastiness that pops up periodically, to great effect. [27 Aug 1993, p.G5]

Chase and D'Angelo are clever and naturally funny, and they're well-matched. And yet the movie is dumb, so dumb it must have taken some work to make it that way. Perhaps next the Griswalds should make a forced march through a Hollywood executive's brain. [27 July 1985, p.B3]

It's all very sweet, but the film goes in too many directions.

Here, finally, is a superhero movie your AP English teacher can enjoy.

For Keeps is schizoid entertainment. It begins as a comedy, shifts briefly into social commentary and winds up in soap opera land, with Ringwald acting nobly and self-sacrificing. The movie has been heralded as a sign of Hollywood's new maturity, because the kids face up to their situation. That is applaudable, but For Keeps is old-fashioned and obvious. It is to teen pregnancy what My Three Sons was to family life. [15 Jan 1988, p.C5]

The cast, which includes Kim Cattrall (Sex and the City) as a coach who pushes her daughter too hard, is likable and energetic, and the film's messages are entirely reasonable.

A muddled fantasy revolving around a really good cruise ship piano player, doesn''t live up to its title.

There's a fine little western lurking inside Open Range: Too bad it gets drowned out by director Kevin Costner's pretentiousness. Almost everything in the movie feels inflated, overblown, drawn out.

The Prophecy suffers from an overall dreariness, a surprising lack of suspense and sloppy, rapid-fire editing. Despite Walken's alternately amusing and frightening performance, the low-budget movie becomes so tedious that, by the end, even a cameo by the Prince of Darkness fails to impress. [05 Sep 1995, p.5D]

Hugh Grant and Sarah Jessica Parker are supposed to pass for a married couple, but they have all the chemistry of two actors who just met and shook hands moments before the cameras rolled. They don't even seem to like each other much.

The Avengers has a knockout final 30 minutes, all gee-whiz crash and bang and eye candy that makes grand use of 3D and IMAX and all the other toys. But the Transformers movies did that, too.

Penn and Oldman booze and brawl and fight a losing battle. Their worst enemy, alas, is their director's self-indulgence. [05 Oct 1990, p.G5]

As it is, Gemma Bovery is as dry as day-old bread: Not inedible, but why bother with it if you can find something fresher?

Unlike this summer's compulsively watchable "Hustle & Flow," Get Rich or Die Tryin' captures none of the thrill of finding your voice, recording a demo or landing a concert.

If nothing else, the movie proves even the rich and famous make boring home videos.

Video-game-come-true plot is corny, but somehow it works. [13 July 1984, p.D10]

The result is earnest, admirable and more than a little dull -- a pedestrian movie about a remarkable subject.

A facile treatment of a complicated subject.

This tale, about a young woman and her quest to become one of the knights of King Arthur's Round Table, turns out to be scarier than it is charming: a real shame, considering the effort and talent that has gone into the production. [15 May 1998, p.7G]

If nothing else, You I Love delivers a brisk and spirited little taste of contemporary Russian culture through the eyes of three spontaneous, unpredictable and oddly charming characters.

It's not that Fear of a Black Hat isn't funny: It is, on occasion. It's just that much of this rap music spoof, done in the style of a mock Spinal Tap documentary, feels woefully out of date. Two years ago, it might have been a hip, must-see comedy: Today, it plays like a warmed-over rerun. [24 Jun 1994, p.G6]

Most of Wells' details are there, and so is the basic premise, but the soul of the thing -- the point -- is missing.

The film is well-scrubbed of anything resembling sexuality, more a nonthreatening fairy tale than the romantic drama it aims to be. Its appeal flies straight to the hearts of 13-year-old girls.

Those opening minutes, in which Hawn plays a heavy, are some of her best work. The rest we've seen before, a lot. Overboard is overlong, and stale as can be. [18 Dec 1987, p.D6]

The entire Nightmare on Elm Street oeuvre has been hailed by critics as a fascinating exercise in id projection and Freudian cant, which helps explain why criticism is in low regard. A better reason to see Dream Warriors, if indeed there is one, is that it's really pretty gross and neat. [06 Mar 1987, p.D2]

As a director, Talkington has a good sense of pacing: The movie rarely stands still. But too much of Love and a .45 is simply poorly executed rehash. [18 Nov 1994, p.G19]

John Wick reminds you this actor deserves better. Reeves makes the movie entertaining in a background-noise way, but he can’t give it any gravity, even when the filmmakers pull the cheapest trick in the book to get the audience to root for the hero and hiss at the Eurotrash villains. Someone get this man some good work, quick.

The only thing the movie lacks is a pulse.

To the extent that it has a serious theme, the film is about the tug of mortality and the demands it makes on simple humanity -- courage, selflessness, the sharing of wisdom. There's not enough of this, not by far. But it's something. The rest of Cocoon -- The Return is hash. [23 Nov 1988, p.D1]

Notorious excels at showcasing Wallace's music and his magnetism as a performer: It fares less well at giving that music a proper context.

Basically, it's an inversion of an already proven formula, a kind of Fatal Attraction's Revenge, with every bit of business save the parboiled rabbit, and you can see the ending coming up Main Street. [08 Feb 1991, p.G5]

Nowhere near as insightful as Boyz N the Hood, nor as uncompromisingly truthful as Colors, South Central still has some worthy things to say. But the film continually resorts to stock situations to express them. [22 Oct 1992, p.F8]

Oh, what a hollow experience Dark of the Moon is! Bay is so afraid of boring his audience, he pitches every scene at the same high volume right from the first shot, and the effect is exhausting.

Casanova doesn't seduce so much as lull the audience into a stupor with tedious blather about the battle of the sexes, intermittent but pointless swordplay and clumsy slapstick.

The good news is, The Vow is not excruciating.

With Little Buddha, Bertolucci moves from political themes to religious phenomena. But despite his obvious care and moments of great visceral beauty, Little Buddha never quite captivates your imagination. It's a pretty but hollow bauble. [25 May 1994, p.E2]

Schepisi and his writers don't get what they should have from the business of traumatic culture shock; they spend too much time on twaddle. [13 Apr 1984, p.D1]

The picture is schematic and awkward, made in movie-of-the-week style and laced with implausibilities and ham- handed set pieces. Still, someone deserves a nod for making Gramps the hero of an action potboiler. It's an idea, and in the Hollywood of the '80s ideas are very rare, very special things. [31 Oct 1985, p.6]

A relentless descent into a psychedelic hell, a rambunctious feel-bad epic.

This might have been OK for cable, but as a night out at the movies, it feels like a bit of a cheat.

The film moves jerkily, in fits and starts, squandering its promising setup and bogging down in explanation.

The Runaways ultimately feels too lethargic and conventional for the wild story it tells.

The performances are standard brat-pack; you could rotate the casts of anything from Risky Business to About Last Night . . . into the picture and it would stay exactly the same. [6 Nov 1987, p.D1]

Junk, but amusing junk. [17 Mar 1987, p.B5]

The plot -- Day trying to take over all the clubs -- is meaningless and the ending almost pathetic. But that's not the reason to watch Graffiti Bridge. It's the music, the set, the colors and the musical numbers that make this movie memorable. [07 Nov 1990, p.C5]

The movie operates on the same principle as the first: Show that each of us, however nerdy, has value; demonstrate that an ideal appearance can mask a nasty person; and give heart to nerds of the world by presenting these losers as triumphant. It does all these things, but not nearly as well as the first Nerds. [10 July 1987, p.D5]

Three O'Clock High is one of those ideas that must have sounded wonderful at one point, and to be fair it still sounds better than the pop-out plots of most teen-explo projects. It turns out, however, to have surprisingly little range. Once the story is under way, there's nowhere for it to go but home room, lunch and out the door. [13 Oct 1987, p.C7]

The misery is there, all right, in every woozy, spaced-out shot of Hoffman clutching his gas-soaked rag. But in the end, do we really care?

Better than you might expect despite its awkward, slow beginning, drawing you in gradually and paying off in surprisingly effective and bittersweet ways.

Basically the first movie all over again, with plenty more of the bridge-jumping, rocket-launching action that audiences loved about the original.

Jarmusch has never seemed quite this baffling -- or quite this dull.

Too much of this well-acted but dangerously slow thriller feels like a preamble to a bigger, more complicated story, one that never materializes.

XXX may be a celebration of jock culture stupidity, but it's also guaranteed not to produce any ZZZ's.

Unfortunately Miracle is long on cliché and short on originality.

Someone apparently forgot to tell Harrison Ford he was starring in a comedy when he was cast in Morning Glory.

Like a lot of the elder Cassavetes' work, She's So Lovely contains moments of truly fine acting, its characters are all sharply drawn, and its story never seems to go anywhere. [29 Aug 1997, p.5G]

The Golden Compass comes close, and its originality cannot be denied, but it never quite crosses over into your heart. It stops at your eyes.

Lethal Weapon is neither a good film nor good entertainment, but it will be a big hit. It takes two popular stories, scrambles them together and delivers something truly bizarre. It's The Cosby Show meets Rambo. [06 Mar 1987, p.D5]

It's possible to achieve hilarity and pathos, but it's not easy, and Litvak isn't quite skilled enough to make the sex jokes rest easily beside the final grandiose and pat confessions. As a result, When Do We Eat? merely whets your appetite for a fresh take on family matters.

Has a made-for-TV smallness (it will probably be a big hit on cable), and it never quite vanquishes the nagging suspicion that you could be spending your time better elsewhere.

In the end, for all its auto-erotic flair, Gone in 60 Seconds is missing a money shot.

May be the grandest looking film ever made on the subject, but it lacks the most essential element of all: passion.

It would seem Towne is too much in love with the book to recognize its fundamental limitations as a film.

It's a stylized, overdressed love story with music tacked on. It's a tangle of relationship studies that drag endlessly, slapstick "get the girl" scenes that aren't funny, and clashes with parental authority that only feign rebellion. [03 Jul 1986, p.D10]

The few jokes it does land can't make this more than a look-what's-on-late-night-cable event.

Not even Sherlock Holmes could make much sense out of the overplotted, murky mess that is "Sherlock Holmes," although Arthur Conan Doyle's legendarily brainy detective would probably never buy a ticket to a movie as elephant-footed as this one.

The World According to Garp is another of those films that fairly cries out for Robert Altman, who makes movies the way John Irving writes books. Altman doesn't seem to be making movies any more, so this is as close we're able to get to Garp, and it's not close enough. [23 July 1982, p.D10]

Unlike Uncle Nino's garden, the film never blooms into anything special.

Richard Jordan, who can be uniquely menacing (see: The Mean Season, Flash of Green) is here reduced to lampooning himself in leatherette storm-trooper garb. Charles Durning, looking wonderfully rumpled as the warden of the orphanage, does as little as possible in the heat. The skating stunts are routine. [2 Dec 1986, p.B4]

As time goes on, and more King comes to the screen, The Shining, once widely disparaged, looks better and better. At least that film translated some of King's terror; subsequent adaptations, Pet Sematary included, do little more than animate the gore. [24 Apr 1989, p.C6]

As handsome and playful as the movie often is, it's another example of the let's-further-exploit-a-hit genre.