By the time Ceremony reaches its admittedly clever finale, you're too wrung out from Angarano's tiresome antics and Winkler's unconvincing dialogue to care who ends up marrying whom.

The Sentinel isn't nearly as slick as it must have looked on the page. Those zingers are perfect fodder for a movie preview, but they just don't lead anywhere interesting on-screen.

The movie is polished, well-acted and atmospheric, but still pure formula, and not very scary, either.

The overwhelming sensation of deja vu is exhausting and disorienting. You really HAVE seen it all before.

The Jungle Book has its moments — the panther Bagheera voiced by Ben Kingsley, the python Kaa voiced by Scarlett Johansson and a funny porcupine voiced by the late Garry Shandling are all memorable creations — but the overall film feels cold and mechanical, befitting a movie that was made primarily because technology made it possible.

Something Borrowed commits the most fatal mistake of all: Its characters are so deeply uninteresting that the audience can't get invested in their eventual happiness.

The great strength of Le Carre's novel was that it twisted the psyches of the characters as it tensed their muscles. This movie muscles through the action, but it takes the psychic tension out of the twists. [19 Oct 1984, p.D6]

There was, however, another question the screenwriter should have asked: Why does the script focus on the wrong couple?

Even with sex, Big Top Pee-wee seems dry and juiceless. [22 Jul 1988, p.C7]

An impeccably shot, studiously staged, passionately acted bore, one of those curious fizzles in which everyone seems to do everything right, but the film simply refuses to take off.

Soon settles down into a drizzle of steady mediocrity, never living up to all the frenzy of those first few moments.

Ihave it on good authority that Pat Conroy's The Prince of Tides is a wonderful book. People rave about it. But Barbra Streisand's lumbering, tearjerker adaptation gives little hint of that. This movie is long and full of pain, and it's driven by the most syrupy musical score I can recall. [25 Dec 1991, p.1]

Once in a great while, a film of insight and wisdom defines a generation. Step Up is not that film. Instead, it's the sort of mildly entertaining movie that comes along a couple of times a year.

You know a movie's not working when you see minotaurs, flying monkeys, "The Wizard of Oz's" Toto and Helen Mirren riding a unicorn -- all on the screen at the same time -- and you're still waiting for the thing to be over so you can go home and get on with your life.

Kids will probably be entranced by Flipper's antics, even if he is played by three dolphins and an animatronic robo- Flipper. But for baby boomers who remember the squeaky clean, black-and-white TV series, the new Flipper will seem like a farce. [17 May 1996, p.5G]

After an exciting high-speed car chase reminiscent of the Mad Max pictures, The Rover settles into a two-character drama between Eric and Rey, but Pearce is so one-note that their relationship is never engaging.

Assassination Tango offers little heat. In dancing with death, Duvall stumbles a few too many times.

With all the obvious work that went into this beautifully detailed, giant-scale movie, and considering the historical importance of the subject matter, was it too much to ask for a trace of intelligence, or maturity, or even insight?

By flaunting its own stupidity, The Ten practically dares you not to laugh at it, like a stand-up comic who sells an unfunny joke through the ferocity of his delivery.

Even the women in Festival in Cannes feel more like sketches than fully realized people -- the aging actress, the naive hopeful, the newly minted starlet -- leaving you nothing but the showbiz satire to chew on.

Monsters University feels half-hearted and lazy, like they weren’t even trying. At least show a little effort, guys.

Just one more in the plague of weak Cinderella stories released in the past year. It's too sugary to be good for you, but in the end, its over-the-top sweetness won't kill you.

Kenan Thompson may not look the part, but he's instantly likeable as Fat Albert.

Ultimately Three Fugitives is too sweet for its own good. It has moments of real hilarity, and moments of oh-please. Veber, we know, can do better. [27 Jan 1989, p.C5]

Little Ashes succumbs to the dreaded Masterpiece Theater syndrome as a talky historical drama weighed down by self-importance.

The kind of movie that rockets so far beyond the line of credibility and so deeply into the realm of utter stupidity, you start to wonder if the filmmakers aren't putting you on.

Assange is a compelling figure that merited a better effort.

Mostly, by story's end, we're just glad they and their unfortunate clothing are out of our sight for good.