Huston, unfortunately, is never really believable as a man rediscovering lost principles; he feels out of place in this otherwise fine ensemble.

Out of Bounds is a jazzy, raffish looking movie. It flirts with punk. It's also a fundamentalist summer-teen thriller, with two kids on the lam from everyone, and in L.A., too. The movie wants it both ways: stylish, safe. Mostly it's dumb. [28 July 1986, p.D5]

One of the great pleasures of the original Love Bug comes in watching all the live-action stunts, and CG just isn't the same.

The movie shouldn’t be dismissed outright, either. It’s a creepy experiment that stays with you.

Falling into the trap that sinks most horror sequels, Blair Witch amps the jolts and shocks with more visceral frights (there’s some business involving an infected foot wound that is truly unnerving and also super gross) to diminishing results.

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.

Oddly tone deaf.

I Want to Believe provides a welcome reminder of what made Carter's franchise a pop-culture gem.

Timing is key in a comedy like this, and Sonnenfeld keeps everyone and everything clicking. The pacing is swift and the laughs are steady.

Lands with a thud right from its painfully unfunny prologue and maintains its plodding, exasperating course straight through to its car-chase-and-shootout finale.

Undeniably charming, and kids will certainly enjoy it.

There is so much that is wrong with The Alamo that it is easier to begin with what the movie gets right: Davy Crockett. As played by Billy Bob Thornton.

The film's earnestness makes up for its high corn factor.

The whole thing is so listless and mechanical, watching it is a curiously dispiriting experience. You start hoping someone whips out a bear suit.

The script is by Chris Columbus (Home Alone), who also directed, and it's as lazy as it is maudlin. [24 May 1991, p.G13]

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]

Has he forgotten how to act? He can't deliver lines, he has no comic timing, he moves like a crippled buffalo -- Eastwood is so awful in this unfunny action comedy that those obnoxious movies with Clyde the orangutan now seem like Shakespeare. [29 May 1989, p.C1]

Cox's morose performance could not be less interesting, Harrison's visual stylings all feel borrowed from David Fincher movies and nine inch nails music videos, and the film's elliptical mysteries, which twist onto themselves a la Mulholland Drive, aren't interesting enough to ponder.

It'll have you wishing the villain was just another maniac with a machete or a chain saw. [30 Jan 1989, p.C6]

The film, which comes way too close to preaching, lurches away from the control of director Mark Waters (Mean Girls, Freaky Friday) and ends on a stretched-out note so sappy it makes "Must Love Dogs" look like "8 Mile."

The film adaptation of Pink Floyd's chart-topping album The Wall has all the humor and charm of a brain tumor. [21 Sept 1982, p.B4]

Mr. Jones is an even bigger disappointment when you consider it's directed by Mike Figgis (Internal Affairs, Liebestraum), who has shown talent for off-kilter thrillers. Saddled with a routine and unimaginative script here, he indulges in well-worn cliches, including setting his big scene between Gere and Olin against a thunderstorm (which inadvertently drowns out part of Olin's dialogue). [9 Oct 1993, p.G4]

The genius of a feature film based on the 1980s TV series is that it can't help but exceed expectations that are so low to begin with.

It's a strange kind of spiritual movie -- one that aims for the gut more often than the heart.

This is superficial entertainment to say the least. But if you're looking for laughs, then Just Friends is just fine.

Just plain fun.

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]

There's not a dull moment in the thing, and it's dumb as dirt. But who can resist? It's the ultimate guilty pleasure, the kind of movie that in years to come, when they're chronicling the decline of our culture, will turn up as an exhibit. [23 Nov 1990, p.G5]