Doesn't conclude so much as just stop, because Brooks, having come up with a great hook for a movie, didn't bother to come up with a satisfying story to go along with it.

Coolidge knows he's not making "Death of a Salesman" here (he names the store managers Glen Gary and Glen Ross in tribute to David Mamet's elegy to the American Dream), but he's got the same eye for detail that made "Office Space" great. What he lacks is Arthur Miller's (or even Mike Judge's) sense for character.

There are a few flashes of wit in the romantic comedy Austenland, but for the most part, the humor lands not with Dear Jane’s grace and style but with all the subtlety of a cholera outbreak.

The actors all suffer beautifully, but their pain doesn’t register: It’s all affectations and red-rimmed eyes.

As it spins along at a reasonably good clip - no one is going to mistake it for the slicker, more action-packed "Salt" - The Double unravels its secrets, which prove to be its undoing.

Jodie Foster gives a bravura performance in Nell, but the film lets her down. If only the screenplay had been half as daring as Foster's portrayal of a backwoods recluse who's never ventured into the modern world. [24 Dec 1994, p.G1]

A shapeless, chaotic, overly frantic comedy that manages to make almost no sense, even if you're paying close attention.

Comes packed with so many plot twists and reversals, there's barely any room left over for a story: The movie is all clever gotchas and hoodwinks, without any substance to go along with them.

Rose made the perfectly splendid and terrifying Paperhouse, a film-festival thriller from 1988, which Candyman resembles not at all. Paperhouse scared you because it was quiet and subtle and eerie. Candyman is just Barker stuff -- all hook, no suspense. [19 Oct 1992, p.C6]

Still, this is one French comedy that could have used a little more hand wringing and a little less whimsy.

Rita, Sue and Bob Too is ultimately like a one-night stand. When it's all over, it leaves you, not laughing, but feeling soiled and rather depressed. [23 Nov 1987, p.C6]

Cannot sustain the level of comic insanity the filmmakers hoped for -- no movie could -- although it's bound to play much better on late-night cable TV, especially when accompanied by a few beers and the occasional bong hit.

In his debut, Alwyn comes off as a likable, sympathetic screen presence capable of handling more difficult material. He’ll have plenty more opportunities. Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, though, will be forgotten in a month’s time.

A movie about grief for people who don't want to be upset too badly. It's a half-a-hankie tearjerker, a meek, polite weepie.

Fool's Gold isn't so much a film as an opportunity to pay homage to Matthew McConaughey's impressive physique.

In Murder by Numbers, though, even Schroeder can't keep his own boredom from showing.

It's too civilized by half and never quite funny enough. [31 Jan 1986, p.D1]

The Illusionist is dogged by an inert, stale aura that overcomes everything and everyone in the movie.

Fury aims for history, and the contrived resolution shows a timidity by Ayer that is uncharacteristic of his previous work. Still, the action sequences, which use actual vintage tanks and little CGI, are pretty extraordinary and, at times, incredibly gruesome. War is hell. That’s entertainment, folks.

The effects are well-made and gruesome; the set is 'used-car tech,' a la Alien -- a space station that looks real and lived- in. Even the music is OK. But good gore only works in movies when the story is good, and this story is stolen, almost scene for scene. [01 Jun 1982, p.C6]

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]

May be dumb, but it must be noted that the screenwriters of this slight, silly comedy have borrowed from the best.

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]

Belongs to that genre of movie that works hard to achieve a certain twisted and demented wit.

Kudos to the production team for finding a perfect chimp for the lead role. Little Virgil has a look of such perfect solemnity and clearness of intent that not only do we not doubt that he could fly a plane, but we begin to suspect that he could craft a better script as well. [17 Apr 1987, p.D1]

For all its splendor, The New World is really a love affair between Malick and his camera.

There's no bite or sting, nor is there a single moment when the film is anything close to scary. It isn't ever engaging, either; it's a dull, sluggish bum-out.

The problem with Men, Women & Children — and it’s a big one — is that the movie isn’t telling us anything we don’t already know.