You should know right up front that even if you realize you're being manipulated you are probably going to weep anyway.

A romantic comedy with enough gimmicks to fill a dime-store thriller -- see Tom almost get run over; see Tom fall in the pool; see Tom get an arrow in his rear. [3 Feb 1989, p.C1]

A loud and relentlessly overstated B-movie, and yet not entirely stupid.

Neither scary nor thrilling, although it's reasonably entertaining despite an abundance of haunted-house clichés, the usual inexplicable scary-movie behavior and an almost-naked John Hurt.

The fact that License to Wed isn't as unbearable as its trailers make it look doesn't mean it's good. It's not. It's just another mediocre addition -- worse than the best sitcoms, better than the worst.

Because it's Pacino, though, Simone is never quite boring.

For all its sweat and muscle, Gladiator packs a weak punch. [6 March 1992, p.G5]

Stops dead the second the monsters fall out of view. It doesn't help that the movie's post-apocalyptic future is of the unimaginative backlot variety, or that the movie takes itself so seriously.

If Magic Mike XXL is bulging with anything, it’s inane conversation.

Truly, a modern fable in period dress...But boring. No other word for it. Director Franc Roddam (The Lords of Discipline, Quadrophenia) is a plodder. He can make dense films, ornate films, but he brings no special life to his projects. Here, he cannot escape the sumptuous confines his art directors have created or the too-rich images of cinematographer Stephen Burum. When the movie needs to race, it lurches instead, like the monster staggering castleward at the head of a torchlight parade.

Someone involved with Prizzi's Honor, the new film from John Huston and starring Jack Nicholson and Kathleen Turner, doubtless thinks it's a fine satire, a comedy so black it will have us all squirming. There's no other explanation for the long stretches of time the movie spends on "idle," all that potential power, going nowhere. [14 June 1985, p.D1]

The premise is marvelous, the music more than adequate (assuming you're a metal fan), the performances appropriately dumb. And it's seasonally funny. [28 Oct 1986, p.D5]

Who would have thought one of the best things about the new Farrelly brothers' movie is a cameo by Tony Robbins?

It's like watching "The Treasure of Sierra Madre" as remade by "Nightline."

Kline is OK. Mastrantonio isn't, really -- she plays Priscilla on the edge of a groundless hysteria. Kevin Spacey, fresh from a tightly controlled performance in Glengarry Glen Ross, loses it here. But the real villain is the ramshackle story. It's just a mess. [17 Oct 1992, p.4]

The movie's hokey mysticism and heaving melancholy is closer in spirit to a solemn Hallmark greeting card.

It turns out to be under-powered and low-wattage. Breakin' 2's plot could use about six months on the Nautilus equipment to tone it up. [19 Dec 1984, p.C5]

A good story, but its potential is never realized.

The film relies a bit too much on the humor of older women flipping each other off and mouthing obscenities, although it is hilarious to see the usually proper Smith frantically chopping up a roofie to slip into Sidda's drink.

Annie DeSalvo, a first-time director and screenwriter, can't escape the made-for-TV feel but does manage to give her cast, mostly once-big names fallen from grace and popularity, flashes of humanity between lessons about various saints and sermons disguised as dialogue.

What you'll remember most are a pretty face and the hot and steamy sex scenes. That is not enough.

You come away from the movie lamenting the missed opportunity and wondering what a stronger, bolder filmmaker would have done with this material.

The Mummy was certainly no "Raiders," but as far as summer movies go, it was just good enough.

Richard Mulligan attempts to provide comic relief for the comedy, in the role of a grizzled archangel, but it's a thankless task. The most interesting element of the film is its premise. [26 July 1985, p.D8]

I respected The Beaver for having the conviction to treat mental illness seriously and without compromise. But did it have to be so maudlin, too?

Feels like the shell of a wonderful story.

Night and the City is the most disappointing big- expectations movie of 1992. It's hard to overstate the magnitude of its failures. There is almost nothing right about it. [23 Oct 1992, p.G5]

A little like a secular, more sophisticated "Touched by an Angel" episode.