Jackson has become too distracted by his digital toys to give his characters the same weight and importance he used in the Rings trilogy.

Unfortunately there’s far too little magic in this clumsy attempt to marry fantasy and realism; the film doesn’t have the grace or imagination to bridge the gaps between the two.

At his wittiest, Carpenter is very funny indeed, and the undisguised commentary of They Live is as entertaining as it is pointed. But at his clunkiest, Carpenter directs with all the deftness of a hod-carrier, and his set pieces drop like bricks -- wham!, plop! [9 Nov 1988, p.D6]

Has an elegant feel, with beautiful shots on the beach and engaging camera work. If only Philip Jayson Lasker's writing could match that.

The themes of A Home at the End of the World are all of the greeting-card variety -- home is where the heart is, family is what we make it, etc. -- and while they've been presented with great warmth and sincerity, they still come off as more than a little banal.

The guys are more amusing than not, and they display the easy chemistry of real-life pals.

The story is stale, action uninspired, pacing lackadaisical. The whole production looks a little cut-rate, too.

The Master has become a contest between two gifted actors trying to shout each other down. The commitment to their roles is impressive, but it's tethered to a weightless, airless movie, a film so enamored of itself, the audience gets shut out.

Mac and his gangly parents are crude special-effects jobs, with dorky ears and dippy walks. But the kids love them anyway, thanks to director Stewart Raffill (The Philadelphia Experiment), who knows how to get young moviegoers cheering. His pace is quick, and the numerous chase scenes make for good fun. For sheer thrills, Mac beats Pippi and Pee-wee, claws down. [12 Aug 1988, p.C8]

Crossing Over is a result of the sledgehammer approach writer-director Wayne Kramer (Running Scared, The Cooler) takes to his subject matter -- the same heavy-handed tactics that earned "Crash" three Oscars.

The actors are fine: It's their long, arduous trek that lets the movie down.

Results in a weightless film. Worse still, McElwee's languid tone makes his journey lack conviction.

It's pretty stupid, although it's never exactly boring.

Like a cross between "Man on Fire" and "Bad Boys 2," this demolition derby delivers eye-popping action sequences that would make even the Roadrunner roll his eyes in disbelief.

It's as if Dante sought so hard to parrot his producer that he wound up parodying, and all involved should have known better. There's a current of menace to Dante's work that sets him apart from Spielberg, and a measure of innocence in Spielberg's quite apart from anything Dante has done. [8 June 1984, p.1]

If nothing else, director/screenwriter Jordan Roberts knows good music. If only we could say the same about his script.

Innerspace suffers from a problem afflicting many of this summer's movies: excess. First, it's too long. Then director Joe Dante (Gremlins) piles on the gadgetry and the inside-the-body special effects, and the movie buckles. [1 July 1987, p.D1]

From the first strains of its overly dramatic, self-important score -- come on, this is not by any stretch of the imagination "Citizen Kane."

Hilarious, but it isn't much of a movie.

Jade is the latest offering from sleazemeister screenwriter Joe Eszterhas (Basic Instinct, Sliver, Showgirls), and just as you'd expect, this movie has lots of sex, lots of violence, and little plausibility or wit. [13 Oct 1995, p.4G]

Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid thus has considerable appeal to movie buffs for whom the black-and-white semi-classics of an earlier era are familiar treasures. For the rest of us, it is a senior thesis -- variations on a single theme, executed carefully but always to the same effect. [21 May 1982, p.D2]

You don't walk into Fortress expecting much, and the fact that it entertains as well as it does comes as a surprise. There's plenty of violence and gore here -- Gordon hasn't forgotten his Re-Animator roots -- and the plot offers enough curves and twists to make you overlook the movie's limitations. [7 Sept 1993, p.D6]

It's not very good, but there are redeeming features. [24 Apr 1987, p.D1]

As it is, much of this movie is simply incomprehensible, however enthusiastically it was designed and is performed. If it were only a little better, one might even spend some time trying to figure what to make of it. [24 Apr 1985, p.B6]

It lacks the simplicity and resonance of classic fairy tales: It's so muddled and belabored, it's hard to imagine the tykes ever staying awake long enough to hear how it all turned out.

The sloppy charms of Just Married don't exactly break new ground, but they don't make you want to swear off romantic comedy forever, and in these "Maid in Manhattan" days that's saying something.

If you try hard enough, you might be able to forget that the story doesn't make a lot of sense or provide adequate thrills, although it tries to scare you a couple of times in the cheapest possible way.

The most entertaining segments involve the gang's spontaneous and wholly inappropriate song-and-dance numbers. It's impossible not to chuckle when the movie's six fashion victims break into stiff choruses of Sha Na Na as passersby gawk. Aw, heck. If loving the Bradys is wrong, we don't want to be right. [23 Aug 1996, p.7G]

It is almost completely devoid of any trace of humor. It radiates a luxurious, all-encompassing mopeyness.

For its first hour or so, Oblivion is a visually mesmerizing, intriguing picture that doesn’t feel like the same-old: It engages your eyes and piques your curiosity. Then, gradually, the novelty wears off, the clichés start to pile up and we’re back to Post-Apocalyptic Dystopia 101.

Simply creaks with contrivance -- particularly in its overwrought finale.

Explosively funny in spots -- this is easily Vaughn's best work since "Swingers" -- but it comes wrapped in a package so sweet and sugary, so tediously moral and conventional, it sabotages the laughs.

A few times, when Eddie and the Cruisers are making their music, the movie begins to hook you. But less-than-skillful plotting always lets you off the hook, and the ending is a letdown and a tease. [26 Sept 1983, p.6]

Still of the Night is a restful thriller, soft and dreamy and largely undisturbing. Like the wee hours themselves, the movie seems to stretch its time beyond the normal frame of minutes; here, 90 of them go by at the pace of an entire evening. [17 Dec 1982, p.D14]

By the time John Hurt shows up, in the role of the villain, the fun's over. Crawford tries for sardonic and falls short, into lazy. Lane's pace is way off; his adventure seems to take forever to get under way, and the jokes aren't enough. Good pulp is better than this. [04 June 1986, p.D1]

Unlike Omri's plastic toys, The Indian in the Cupboard never comes to life. [14 July 1995, p.5G]

The chemistry is intact, but performances that were reaching-for-the-balcony big on Broadway haven't been scaled back a bit for a more intimate, up-close medium.

But we must admit, if a bit shamefully, that we laughed heartily during big chunks of Tommy Boy, thanks primarily to Farley. The charismatic oaf is at his best on SNL when playing eager-to-please dolts blissfully unaware of their utter incompetence and stupidity, and that's what Farley is here. And he runs with it. [31 Mar 1995, p.4G]

The thoroughly unconvincing drama Resurrecting the Champ might be based on a true story, but that doesn't mean you're going to believe a single frame of it.

Jordan's jokes are sometimes stereotypical barbs tossed at Americans, but the Irish director definitely can inject hackneyed Hollywood devices with high-spirited fun. Be warned, though, you'll have to stomach some dismal scenes between Hannah and Guttenberg -- the biggest stiffs in this movie. [18 Nov 1988, p.D8]

Joyful Noise is too tone-deaf to put its few blessings to good use.

This slick, sick remake of the 1977 Wes Craven cult shocker is more of a glum bummer than a horror show.

What's missing, really, is a point. Like "Snow Falling on Cedars," Hicks composes every shot in Hearts in Atlantis as if it were his last.

City Hall is a labyrinth of a drama about big-city government that goes through many intricate plot machinations to reach its stunning conclusion: Politics is a very dirty business...It's not much of a revelation, and City Hall is not much of a movie. Sure, its backroom maneuverings and power ploys feel authentic (one of the screenwriters, Ken Lipper, was Ed Koch's deputy mayor), and there's undeniable momentum as the movie reveals, layer by layer, the depth of the corruption at the center of its mystery. But you can see City Hall's big "twist" coming a mile away, and the movie ends limply, without much payoff for patiently sticking with its convoluted storyline. [16 Feb 1996, p.5G]

Although (Untitled) makes a spirited effort to mine comedy from its outre characters and the orbits they inhabit, the picture feels thin and wan, like a joke you've heard 100 times too many.

While intimate scenes of male bonding among Kirk, Spock and "Bones" McCoy are particularly delightful, the film's overall themes -- God, creation, friendships as family -- are never tied together or amply explained. Star Trek V is a lot like a dinner party where the appetizers are delicious, the main course stale and cold. [9 June 1989, p.5]

The dance numbers grow tiresome after a while, and director/screenwriter Ramon Salazar throws in so many calculated oddities that it's impossible for anyone to become too attached to his characters.

Occasionally, Down Periscope floats but it isn't particularly see-worthy. [01 Mar 1996, p.3C]

Eventually, though, Seeking Justice devolves into the usual business of chases and elaborate double-crosses that leave behind all vestiges of realism for the sake of popcorn thrills.

In the old days -- when Hollywood knew how to make funny movies, and knew how to make cheap, sentimental potboilers, and knew the difference between the two -- City Slickers would have kept Laurel and Hardy busy for maybe 80 minutes. This version lasts nearly two hours, and the filler is all man-meets-cow, man-loses-cow. [7 June 1991, p.G-5]

Polanski, who seldom has a problem with directorial conviction, falters here. He tries to gives us Alfred Hitchcock, without much success. Frantic works best when Polanski delivers Polanski -- that sharp-edged vision that injects a harrowing situation with black humor, even slapstick. [27 Feb 1988, p.B1]

Turns out to be a more disappointment than joyful reunion, a tedious and desperately drawn-out affair that tests your patience even as it brazenly courts (and often earns) your contempt.

The entire point of Carnage is to poke fun at the fragile civility of the upper-middle class - they're all animals inside! - but how much more fun would this material have been if the story hadn't been about polite white people?

Worst of all, nothing happens that we don't see coming. Nothing. If, as Nathan seems to believe, surprise is a crucial element in any campaign, then The Last Samurai might win a battle or two for your attention but is doomed to lose the Oscar war.

It's fun to wonder what Romero's realistic, no-frills cinematic style and jolting shocks would have brought to good King novels like Pet Sematary or The Stand. With The Dark Half, he tries hard -- it's his best directorial work in years -- but his reverence for the mediocre novel produces merely a serviceable thriller. [23 Apr 1993, p.G5]

All the right elements for a rollicking farce, except one: The movie isn't funny.

Though directed by Guy Hamilton, who has made four Bond films, Remo Williams is lackluster of pace and quite clumsy in the telling. And though no one demands devotion to verisimilitude in this kind of thing, a plot this ridden with holes is not an auspicious beginning. It seems unlikely that an audience that already has Rocky and Rambo needs a Remo. [11 Oct 1985, p.D1]

Mostly honest in its portrayal of teen sexuality -- it exists, whether we like it or not -- but also offers up the troubling notion of teen pregnancy as romantic and magical.

Strip away the off-screen hype, and Bad Influence comes off as a mildly compelling yuppie descent into decadence, a sort of Bright Lights, Big City with teeth. [09 Mar 1990, p.5]

Next to Club Paradise, Caddyshack looks like comic art. [11 July 1986, p.D1]

Only on that superficial level does this Lord of the Flies fly. [16 Mar 1990, p.G11]

One thing it's not, despite the several lesbian love scenes that earned the film its NC-17, nee X, is "steamy." Nor is it provocative or even, Kaufman's best intentions notwithstanding, particularly erotic. It's a handsome bore. [05 Oct 1990, p.G5]

Taking a lightweight comedy such as this seriously is probably a fatal error, but there's no way around it: This House is built on a shaky foundation.

Though Rosenthal is slick enough to lure us into the big Rocky climax, his movie isn't serious enough, or good enough, not to leave a bad taste in the mouth after it's over. [27 Mar 1983, p.L4]

A flamboyant but hollow exercise in glitz and pizzazz.

Paris, Texas is thus a curiosity. On balance it seems overblown and rickety, as substantial as tumbleweed. And it seems to be less than the sum of its two major parts, the script by Shepard and the images by Wenders. Still, it's an essential entry into the Wenders file, full of hollow portents and signs signifying little. And it would be worth seeing for Stanton's performance alone. [8 Feb 1985, p.8]

Although it deals with some monumental themes, Mademoiselle Chambon also feels wispy and inconsequential.

Though the charter of the Enterprise charges its crew to "go boldly where no man has gone before," the marketing strategy of Paramount Pictures clearly mandates that the film go quietly in a predictable fashion to a place where the mass audience will feel comfortable. This Star Trek II does, with its familiar faces and lovable homilies. The film seems bound to be one of the summer's big hits. Kids will love it, and dozing adults will at least find it endurable. [5 June 1985, p.C4]

The problem -- aside from the fact that one of the best things about Foer's story is its irreverent, intricate, just-maybe-brilliant writing -- is what Schreiber has decided to cut.

Too much of the breezy humor that made the book a delight is stripped away, replaced with predictable jokes and broad slapstick, sitcom-quality encounters with women and bears and a pushy, grating sentimentality.

The script is riddled with so many clichés, you count on the battle scenes to wake you from your stupor.

Hollow and pointless.

It's whenever the music stops that the movie runs into trouble.

To be fair, Secret Admirer is somewhat more clever and a great deal sweeter than the standard for its damp genre. Those who remember with affection Archie's constant flailings at Veronica with the help of lovesick Betty will feel on familiar ground here. The outcome seems fixed almost from the opening moments, and the fact that lonesome Toni, who is made out to be the wallflower, is considerably more attractive than the horsy Debora Anne ("the most beautiful girl in school") is only the first of many tip-offs. [14 June 1985, p.D2]

Even at 85 minutes, Throw Momma From the Train seems flabby; it's out of jokes before an hour is up. [11 Dec 1987, p.D5]

What The Long Day Closes lacks is a narrative thread, however slim, to match the perfectly realized setting and wonderful visuals Davies has crafted. The whole thing feels like a chapter of a much larger work, one that, if finished, would doubtless prove more intriguing than what we get here. [7 Aug 1993, p.G5]

For a stretch of 20 minutes or so, Like Father Like Son is as funny a film as you could hope to see. [02 Oct 1987, p.D1]

Moves too slowly, running out of gas in the later rounds of the plot.

After it's over, one thing is perfectly clear. Joe Versus the Volcano, for all its wacky gags, delightfully bizarre look and ill-fated attempts at insight, is only one thing: Mediocre. [9 Mar 1990, p.5]

Freddy simply isn't as scary as he used to be, even though Jackie Earle Haley, taking over from Robert Englund in the role, plays Krueger essentially straight, keeping the one-liners to a minimum.

Too much of this lame comedy feels like it was written to satisfy a contract, with gags (like the business with the perpetually horny dog or the toddler who knows sign language) that are way beneath the talents of this cast.

The movie tends to lapse into soapy melodrama and heavy-handed preaching whenever possible, and the feel-good ending that appears out of nowhere essentially negates a lot of what has preceded it, adding one more moral to a movie already weighed down by life lessons.

The movie's as dumb as dirt, but in the early going the action is staged well. The best thing about Tango & Cash is the series of gags to which Stallone has allowed himself to be the target. [22 Dec 1989, p.G10]

Although a happy ending is preordained, at least Joe Forte's script takes the less-obvious route there.

As the character grows soft and sentimental, so does La Soga, and the film's edge is terminally dulled by an avalanche of cliches and schmaltz.

The relevant question is: does it rock? And the answer, unfortunately, is no.

It's a cheery, impossible fantasy.

Despite its contemporary-sounding anti-French cracks, could easily have been made 20 years ago.

A shrill and gaudy comedy about the quest for celebrity.

In I'll Sleep When I'm Dead, the night grows long while your eyelids grow heavy.

A lazy, self-satisfied piece of work -- a comedy made by people who think so highly of themselves, they assume they'll get a laugh just by showing up in front of the camera.

Maximum Overdrive is the classic botch. Good idea, nice effects, bad pacing, porous script, no punch...Too bad. As usual, the premise has promise. [26 July 1986, p.C1]

What were charming once -- the clumsiness of Uys' style and the crudeness of his effects -- now seem quite tired: After all, he had the budget this time, and he has had six years to learn how to do things. It's as if Uys never quite understood what made The Gods Must Be Crazy so enchanting. [13 Apr 1990, p.G5]

This Carrie becomes less involving as it goes along, ceding its emotional power to special effects and unconvincing gore, and culminating with a closing shot so lame and uninspired, it’s as if the filmmakers just gave up and called it a day.

This is one of the silliest plots since Disney cast Gus the mule as the star place-kicker for a hapless football team. Although it sounds like a whimsical throwback to Gus and another classic of the genre, The Absent Minded Professor, Rookie of the Year fails to connect. [09 Jul 1993, p.G4]

It is almost a prototypical action picture; there is never a moment when something isn't happening or about to happen, and the fact that most of the action makes no sense doesn't matter much when events move this fast. [27 Sep 1985, p.D7]

Something about the sequel, Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties, doesn't seem nearly as obnoxious as the original.

With an exciting way out, the audience would have gladly overlooked all the loose ends from earlier in the movie. But the way Hall plays it, he undermines the early style and intelligence of his all-black action movie, taking audiences for the wrong kind of ride in the end.