Part of the problem is that Garner, so irresistible on television and in last year's "13 Going on 30," just can't pull off the cold-hearted killer routine.

Mr. Destiny wouldn't be all bad if it made some variation on the recipe, but it's too generic and predictable -- and too blandly acted -- to be engaging. The magic's gone. It's like sucking on a Tootsie Pop for two hours and never tasting the fudgy center. [12 Oct 1990, p.G5]

Schwarzenegger doesn't at all seem too old for the part; his bulging muscles still fill the action-hero's suit just fine. It's what he's doing that is tired and, maybe, played out.

See this movie for Douglas and Bacall, ignore the dialogue and just bask in their star chemistry, still strong after all these years.

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

Loaded with so much drama that the story sinks into a grim, sloppy soap-opera mix.

Full of It's message is directed straight at 9-year-olds -- lying is bad! -- and yet there's plenty of sexual content. Unfortunately there isn't much else.

At its heart, however, Soul Man is a one-gag story propelled by sitcom material; there are times you'd swear you were watching Lucy. And because the filmmakers really aren't up to their premise, the movie ends on a note of forced harmony that's enough to make the blood run cold. It's a reminder that even good white liberals still aren't sure how to act around black people. Which, come to think of it, would make a fine, socially "relevant" comedy. Perhaps Hollywood will make it someday. [27 Oct 1986, p.C4]

Chasing Papi leaves you wishing Hollywood would just forget about Latinos altogether. If this is how they really see us, I'd rather not know.

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

From this, we can safely assume that Schaeffer is a nag and a pest, though after two films we still have little proof that he's a capable director. [8 March 1996, p.7G]

Steeped in pitch-perfect nostalgia and propelled by equal doses of comedy and tragedy.

But the blame for the stultifying Mooseport lies squarely on the shoulders of the screenwriters and anyone else who assumed the limited Romano could carry such a dated, lousy film. The results are in: He can't do it, at least not without a lot more help.

Based on evidence in My Favorite Martian, it can be concluded that while life does exist on Planet Disney, it's not particularly intelligent. Or funny. [12 Feb 1999, p.10G]

The unfortunate aspect of Class, which is glossier than Private Lessons and marginally more believable than My Tutor, is that its laughs are built around the suffering of a prime candidate for intensive therapy. Thus while the kids are watching one movie -- boy loses virginity, ya-hoo -- adults in the audience will be watching another -- wife and mother has an emotional breakdown at the hands, literally, of a 14-year-old. The latter, of course, is not funny. [25 July 1983, p.C6]

Not making any sense is not the same as unbelievably dumb, which The Final Chapter pretty much is. [18 Apr 1984, p.6]

Blake Edwards returned to direct this time, and seems to have made the miscalculation that Benigni could carry the movie. One with less noble lineage, maybe. But the Pink Panther movies, largely because of Edwards' own brilliance at physical comedy, are very hard acts to follow. [01 Sep 1993, p.E3]

Every now and then, there is even a funny line, as when the wife of one officer insists on joining the force herself: "We can wear matching uniforms, share ammo -- everything that makes a marriage work." [24 Mar 1986, p.D7]

On Deadly Ground has all the thrills and suspense of a rerun of Barney and Friends. [22 Feb 1994, p.D5]

No, Sucker Punch doesn't make any sense. But none of that matters, because the ride Snyder takes you on is so vividly conceived, so deliriously bizarre and wonderful.

An incredibly lazy movie -- but not an unbearable one, thanks to Aaron Eckhart's charm.

Wood's disarmingly funny performance paired with Reiner's irreverent gags make North a fun, harmless trip. [22 Jul 1994, p.G4]

The Last Song, yet another maudlin remake of a Nicholas Sparks bestseller.

The problem is that hardly anyone in the cast can sing or dance on a level that’s more than passable (Foxx is a fine exception). And that’s a problem when the movie is a musical.

The good news is the updated version is scarier than the original, thanks to snazzier special effects, a shorter running time, moody lighting, a few solid jolts and one icky moment involving a bratty babysitter and a closet. The bad news is the film rehashes every horror movie cliché you can imagine.

The kind of schlocky, disposable time-killer that once might have starred Jean-Claude Van Damme, The Impostor is a relentlessly dull chase flick with an inexplicably high-toned cast.

Dismal.

What's missing in Kickboxer is a solid script and keen direction of dramatic sequences... Van Damme choreographed and edited all the fight scenes, and his talent is undeniable. If you're thrilled by a flurry of spinning back kicks, elbow punches and assorted high-flying martial-arts tricks, Kickboxer has your name on it. [12 Sep 1989, p.C7]