There's not much meat to the story. So while the picture on the menu suggests filet mignon, we really get mostly fish-and-chips stuff.

Just don't think too hard -- or at all, really -- or else you run the risk of realizing that Fast & Furious 6 is running on little more than fumes, with just a shot or two of nitrous.

Once it gets past its lull-prone first half, Neighbors 2 tries to inject a little heart into the proceedings -- which was the secret weapon of the original -- but even those end up feeling stale and phoned-in.

You can color me unimpressed.

That's not to say The Last Laugh is a flat-out terrible movie, necessarily. It's just a tame, unimaginative one -- a low-budget cinematic shrug that has nothing new to offer.

Any character study must also bring us, and its main character, on a journey. And that's where Gloria Bell, for all of its assets -- and for all of the critical acclaim being heaped upon it -- ultimately stumbles.

Like the rest of the film, it's has its laughs and it has its emotion, just not enough of either.

To be fair, in its best moments, The Best Man Holiday is more enjoyable than even a well-wrapped steam iron, functioning as it does as passable light entertainment -- but only just.

Mike Leigh's awesomely overpraised Naked is that one-in-a-hundred mediocre movie that contains a genuinely compelling performance. [4 Mar. 1994, p.L27]

While this plot sketch suggests some elements that make Stargate intriguing, however, the movie ultimately fails to deliver on its promise of an intelligent story. [4 Nov 1994, p.L27]

Along the way, Krokidas' story becomes a touch schizophrenic, at times a coming-of-age story, a love story, a crime drama and a literary drama. It's hard to say which it functions as best, as none are given too much time to germinate before Krokidas moves on to the next.

The result is exactly what you would expect from a concept whose odometer has been running for so long: uneven laughs, sparked largely by spurts of shock comedy but marred by a general sense of familiarity.

It's done with affection, so it's hard to begrudge Hill for indulging in a postcard cliché or two. After all, it - like Hill's movie as a whole - certainly beats a bullet to the head.

It's just plain less -- less than what sci-fi fans are probably hoping for, and less than what it could have been.

The problem is, the second half of the film -- when it's time for it to get down to business -- isn't nearly as compelling as the first. As a result, the impact of Cahill's story is muted as the payoff just doesn't feel rewarding.

While director Rupert Wyatt's film has a handful of things going for it -- alien invaders, bursts of action, sociopolitical subtext, a stern-faced John Goodman -- it is missing one key element: a soul.

While Pitch Perfect 2 feels like it leaves much on the table, that'll be plenty good enough to give its fans something to sing about -- until the inevitable "Pitch Perfect 3."

And let's be honest: Hawking and Wilde's romance is lovely in its own way. But his scientific work? That's important. That's staggering. That's life-changing, not just for him, but for all of us. And The Theory of Everything? Despite that title, and despite those performances, it just doesn't feel like any of those things.

Is it funny enough to make for a wholly satisfying feature-length film? No, not really. Like so many films of Ferrell's, Get Hard feels rushed and uneven.

Unfortunately, the longer this Annie goes on, the more steam it loses.

It is nothing if not a nice film. But it's little more than that.

It is powerful, it is affecting and it -- that is, Hiddleston's eerily accurate performance, from start to finish -- is easily the best thing about director Marc Abraham's Shreveport-shot biopic of the country music legend.

Despite the occasional outbreak of tension, it all ends up becoming repetitive as Eye in the Sky gets bogged down in the morality of it all, spinning its wheels for long stretches.

It's all fairly standard rom-com stuff.

To put it in Austen terms: They will not have the pleasure of understanding what Steers is trying to do here.

Regardless of how well-argued it is, when watching a film feels this much like homework, that's not likely to happen.

For better and for worse, it's neither better nor worse than the original "Ride Along." That's because it's essentially the same movie.

Most real horror fans, however, will likely be left wondering where the heat is.

When a film's clichés are so obvious that its cast points them out for you, you've got to wonder how hard it's really trying.

Admittedly, I'm in the minority here, with many other critics swooning over First Reformed and the big questions it raises. Regardless, the biggest question I had after watching it was simple: What the hell did I just witness?

There's a lot of eye candy in what ends up being a slick, breathless and at-times enjoyable sci-fi update. Unfortunately, it's what Wiseman forgets to do that makes the biggest difference in his film -- and which keeps it from becoming much more than a glossy missed opportunity.

So if a feeling of deja vu is what you most crave at the movies, go and see director Thomas Carter's "Metro." You'll pay six or seven bucks to feel as though you've seen it all before. And you have. Eddie, please, come back when you can find some decent material. [17 Jan 1997, p.L26]

For 91 minutes of its briskly paced 94-minute running time, the film works as a tightly wound bit of pins-and-needles storytelling. Then, Anderson lets it all unravel in a three-minute stretch of cheap writing that not only betrays the characters he worked so hard to develop, but that also thumbs its nose at any audience members with a brain.

Because while it can boast of some truly extraordinary special effects -- stomach-churning, face-hacking, arm-slicing visual effects, the kind that are sure to titillate the gleefully twisted -- this Evil Dead is far more gruesome than awesome.

There's a germ of a good story there, and Intruders isn't without the occasional tense moment. But unfortunately Hollowface is as undeveloped as the other characters in Intruders, which is the film's biggest flaw of all.

Here's a film that tries to strike a "Beverly Hills Cop" balance between crime drama and screwball comedy -- but that balance, it should be noted, isn't an easy one to strike.

You'd think that a movie about such a dynamic moment and such a vibrant ad campaign would be more dynamic and vibrant.

What we end up with is an arm's-length film that feels more haunted than haunting -- and one that audiences will want to forget rather than remember.

As well-shot and well-acted as it is, one can't help feeling there's a good movie in there somewhere. Unfortunately, it's buried beneath such an avalanche of extraneousness and artistic posing.

The resulting film, despite its occasional outbursts of action and tension, is less an action film than a psychological thriller, although even there it fumbles the ball.

Once the opening credits end, it turns out The Nut Job"= is far more "Romper Room" than "Step Brothers."

Any improvements over the original RoboCop are mere window dressing, more a superficial function of technical advances in filmmaking than of any sort of storytelling prowess or fresh narrative ideas.

Lillard's film ends up being more unsatisfying than anything else. His "Fat Kid" might rule the world, but it doesn't quite rule the screen.

If there’s a knock on the first Coming to America, it’s that its two-hour running time often felt a touch padded. But that’s better than the entirely forgettable Coming 2 America, which is pretty much all padding.

This is a tragedy, not a comedy.

An uneven R-rated Christmas comedy that's more enjoyable than, say, your Nana's fruitcake, but which at the same time doesn't feel quite like the dose of memorable holiday cheer it could have been.

Niccol and Meyer -- who co-produces this, her first post-"Twilight" film -- choose to trade away any shred of the ripe social subtext that has made other body-snatcher films so rich. In its place: the kind of supernatural, star-crossed romance that generates so much swooning from Team "Twilight."

If you currently own a G.I. Joe toy or if you've dressed like a ninja at least twice since Halloween, you're going to find a lot to "hooah" about in "G.I. Joe: Retaliation."

Grant and Parker's talents are wasted on a boring, made-for-TV story punctuated by a contrived, throwaway third act.

The really annoying thing about Jack Black's Gulliver's Travels is not so much that it's a bad movie -- it is bad, but only run-of-the-mill bad, not epic-misfire bad -- but that the movie sullies a piece of literature that has endured for nearly 300 years for the sake of a cheap kiddie flick that'll be forgotten in a month.

But Jack and Jill? Oh, Al.

Dumont's fans might find this latest exercise enjoyable, but his style of filmmaking is an acquired taste. I doubt those without that taste are going to acquire it here.

Rather than a moving story of sisterly love, we get little more than a grandly appointed disappointment.

Beautifully shot, but terribly dull.

It feels more like a poor man's "Poltergeist, " minus the static-filled TV.

Even if The Bounty Hunter is more plot-driven than your standard romantic comedy, it's never quite as funny as it should be.

The school freak, played by Mary-Kate Olsen, misses a chance to really have some fun as this story's wicked witch.

Little more than a glorified situation comedy. The problem is, it's all situation and no comedy.

It is fluffy, yes, but it also is ugly and annoying and something you neither want nor need.

Almodovar lets his movie become boring, and insufferably so.

You can't just cast an appealing actress in the lead role -- in this case Queen Latifah ("Valentine's Day, " "The Secret Life of Bees") -- and expect her to do all the heavy lifting.

Right off the bat, things start falling apart for Wiesen's film. While Highmore is more than capable of playing smart and tender, he has yet to figure out how to believably portray so much as a shred of the danger or rebelliousness required for this role.

A message movie that struggles mightily to make an impact but never comes close to capturing the gritty realism on which any blues singer builds his career.

Clever story? Pass. Originality? Nah. A smidgen of real humor to keep parents entertained along with the kiddies? Smurf you.

Anthony Hopkins still does elegant menace better than anyone.

For movie-goers who like a little cleverness with their comedy, however, one word: N-opa.

In the end, Carpenter offers a reasonably nice payoff to this whole misfire.

Every narrative twist is telegraphed, every dramatic choice is expected, every character is one-dimensional, and every scene of heightened emotion is built around tin-ear dialogue.

The sheer abundance of bare bosoms and coyly choreographed hanky-panky is exceeded only by the syrupy swell of violins at every climax. [06 Mar 1998, p.L31]

Director Rob Reiner hits a career low at the helm of "North," a charmless comedy-fantasy starring Elijah Wood as a disgruntled 11-year-old. [22 Jul 1994, p.L29]

It has been directed with no discernible style by Robert Harmon, who did far more imaginative work on "The Hitcher." It is acted in a near-narcoleptic stupor by Van Damme, whose only aesthetic contribution to the movie is a series of beefcake scenes featuring partial nudity. [19 Jan 1993, p.D7]

Rash's movie is forgettable, the smarmy Shore being just as hard to take as the sophomoric one. So if you're not a fan, consider waiting for Son-In-Law to slouch its way into a dollar house. [2 July 1993, p.L22]

While it has its moments of passable action -- ends up feeling every bit as toothless as its dinosaurs are toothy.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday presents Holiday as a victim and little more. Ignored is the fact that the self-destructive Holiday bears at least some culpability for the slow-motion tragedy that was her life — and for her all-too-early death at 44 years old. Daniels, who seems to have made the classic mistake of falling in love with his subject, apparently doesn’t have time for such nuance.

Street Fighter's cartoon plot has no purpose other than to provide butts for our hero to kick. Van Damme does so with martial arts efficiency, but zero charm, and this weary assessment pretty well sums up why I'm praying his fifteen minutes of fame are about over. [06 Jan 1995, p.L29]

I guess I can't call the movie sexist as it was largely produced, directed and written by women. So I'll settle for calling it dull, corny and amateurish instead.

Most of the time, however, Post Grad just coasts along, flat as a mortar board, and as forgettable as a ... oh, I forgot already.

Early on in The Slammin' Salmon, a customer sends back a plate of undercooked fish. I can't imagine a better metaphor for a movie that is named after a fish and that is as half-baked as this one is.

A movie that wears its heart on its sleeve.

Red Riding Hood needs a better agent.

Hype Williams is a trend-setting music video director who has decided to take the plunge into feature films. One devoutly wishes he hadn't. [06 Nov 1998, p.L31]

As his character’s cognitive abilities decline, Neeson’s repeated on-a-dime transition from killing machine to stuttering, doddering pawpaw — and then back again — feels eye-rollingly, almost offensively contrived.

At last! - a movie that combines the most lurid and irresponsible aspects of the "Mandingo" black-exploitation yarns of the '70s with the gratuitous violence and ubiquitous gore of today's horror cheapies. [17 Mar 1995, p.L34]

A textbook example of ye olde two-joke movie.

The characters aren't fully formed enough to care about, the humor is baseball-bat dull, and the story - such as it is - is never treated as anything more than a half-hearted means to get the audiences from one spectacular snuffing to the next.

While infants and imbeciles might get caught up in whirlwind action, most viewers should brace themselves for a less-than-wondrous return to Wonderland.

It's not that Climax is a poorly made movie. It's that it's an abjectly mean movie. Some would try to excuse it as arthouse cinema. In reality, it's frighthouse cinema. And that's not meant as a compliment. The ultimate message, at least in this case: Just say no -- to Noé.

One other problem. Parodying movies like "Basic" and "Attraction" is an inherently dicey proposition. After all, such oversexed morality tales are practically parody themselves. [2 Nov 1993, p.C10]

The problem is that there's nothing of substance to hold together those occasionally fun moments of often-grotesque absurdity.

This is the kind of film that feels like a dream - but not in the good way. Rather, it resembles a dream in that it is made up of disjointed, loosely connected bits of surrealist craziness - ideas that might have seemed interesting in the twilight hours but that don't come close to standing up to the light of day.

What we end up with is a meandering mishmash of tasteless jokes and a tendency for extended non sequitur riffs.

Nobody has an excuse for being surprised by how low Sandler and company stoop in That's My Boy.

This is an alternate-history rock 'n' roll saga. It is not Elvis, but Elvis-ish.

While it shows fleeting moments of promise, there's precious little great about The Great Wall. Instead, it should be called "The Ridiculous Wall."

The fight sequences are briskly choreographed at least, gruesome though they are -- and, to be honest, that goes a long way in a film such as this. In fact they may be the only reason to see it, other than the chance to see Van Damme in full Col. Kurtz mode, all face-painted and droopy-eyed and bat-poop crazy.

Unimaginative and painfully generic.

Gritty to the point of sleazy, the noir-tinged Bayou Caviar shows flashes of visual flair, and Gooding -- who wrote the screenplay in addition to directing and starring -- demonstrates he’s still got the sort of screen presence and million-dollar smile that made him a star some 27 years ago. Beyond that, however, Bayou Caviar is a thoroughly nasty and messily plotted affair, a straight-to-VOD crime drama that slips and slides around in its own ooze for at least 20 minutes too long.

Sometimes it's stupid-funny, but mostly it's just plain stupid. And sloppy.