There’s nothing more to this movie than the set-up. Even though Cypher is slowly bleeding to death, and Kitai is running out of oxygen capsules that allow him to breathe in the toxic air, there’s no sense of urgency, either. At least Shyamalan, sensing the thinness of the material, doesn’t stretch things out.

The Wedding Planner dissolves into a mopey, leaden romance that piles on the contrivances before limping to its foregone -- and rote -- conclusion.

The kind of stupid-funny movie that should only be seen in a crowded theater.

Start with a heaping helping of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Throw in some "Percy Jackson," a dash of "Twilight," a spoonful of "The Vampire Diaries" and a sprinkling of "Harry Potter," and you end up with The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones.

It's just awful. Pointless, lazy, derivative and paralyzingly dull.

The less said about Simpson's performance the better. From the neck down she fulfills all the requirements, but, honestly, I think General Lee might do a better job with the dialogue.

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]

A wisp of a movie that dissipates the moment you leave the theater.

As human Kewpie dolls, the Olsens' basic function is to try on as many new outfits as humanly possible within the span of 86 minutes (guaranteed to be the longest 86 minutes, New York or otherwise, you've ever spent in the dark).

An idea whose time is long overdue, a tricked-out jumbo jet custom fit to meet the needs of today's savvy black traveler.

The film is probably not evil incarnate, but it's so irritating you wish it -- and just about everyone in it -- would just shut up and get out of your room.

Merely adding an older generation of lovers to a love story does not make your romance one for the ages. Doesn’t even make it "The Notebook."

The sex parts are dumb -- they could have been lifted from a 1960s beach comedy -- but when Last Resort acts as a sendup of drinks (and life) by the colored bead at Club Med, it has its amusements. [04 Jun 1986, p.D4]

Rich in cliché and brimming with the sort of potent idiocy that can only be found in January-release romantic comedies, Leap Year manages to do every possible thing wrong.

The best things about this movie are first-rate comic performances by Young, Sherilyn Fenn (as Assante's worshipful secretary), Kate Nelligan (Assante's absurdly faithless wife), and by Assante himself. We knew he was a great straight man, but who would have guessed he had the timing for this? He has it. And Fatal Instinct has its moments. [30 Oct 1993, p.G1]

Considering the horrible buzz that had dogged the movie since its trailers first premiered, The Punisher turns out to be a likable underdog.

An overwrought, horribly directed, sloppily plotted and dreadfully written mess. It's difficult to believe that Shanley actually created the thing. [13 Jan 1989, p.C7]

It's an hour longer than the average sitcom, but The Wedding Date isn't much different from what you see crammed into any TV comedy lineup, minus the laugh track.

It's an extremely raunchy hybrid of "Bridget Jones's Diary."

The cleverness begins and ends at the basic fact that it is being done. Really, it would be much more fun just to rent one of the originals.

[A] visually stunning, technically impressive and crushingly dumb and overlong picture.

If you really love "Bull Durham," don't go near Play It to the Bone. It will break your heart.

The problem with I Love You, Beth Cooper is that aside from Denis' speech at the start, everything else seems familiar.

The movie is just self-conscious enough to get some bad reviews, and it's going to draw some walkouts. Pay no attention. There's something wonderful here...It's a fascinating film. [3 March 1989, p.6]

Paranoia has a promising foundation — betrayal, danger and corporate espionage are solid building blocks of suspense. But the movie turns out to be more exasperating than exciting.

More toy commercial than movie.

An apocalyptic Bob Dylan song made cinematic, with all the vision and poetry dissipating in the transfer. It's as if the filmmakers listened to "Desolation Row" just one time too many.

The Hitcher has a certain weight. It's not junk, and Harmon is neither a hack nor a beginner just taking his genre shot. His movie is arresting in surprising places, and it never really lets us off the hook. There's something here worth seeing, and something about Harmon as well. What will he do next, and can he top this? [27 Feb 1986, p.8]