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

Breezy but forgettable.

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]

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."

It's no "Das Boot," but Battleship is a boatload of popcorny fun.

Still, while it wouldn't be correct to characterize Home Again as a formula film, it's generic enough that it somehow feels formulaic. Consequently, "Home Again" never distinguishes itself as anything but a predictable and thoroughly ordinary film, just with lots of fancy window dressing.

Stand Up Guys becomes something not only enjoyable but memorable and emotionally layered at the same time.

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.

While Crisis can fairly be criticized as emotionally cold, with its heavy and humorless story generating more sympathy for its characters than empathy, there’s no denying its timeliness, offering a compelling look at what will certainly be remembered as one of the most underplayed tragedies of our time.

A solidly intense creepout. Granted, it doesn't do anything to rewrite the horror rulebook in any significant way. This won't be remembered as a horror classic by any stretch. "The Exorcist" it is not.

While it's not really about football, it's not about sterling filmmaking, either.

Tyldum's "Twlight Zone"-tinged action-romance is a mass-appeal crowd-pleaser, the kind of made-for-the-holidays movie that holds a little something for everyone. Even better, being neither a sequel nor a remake, it's got something few sci-fi films do nowadays: originality.

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]

A slick and sweet film all on its own, a harmless bit of fun that fills the Easter-movie void.

Some summer movies are big, woofing mastiffs. (Think "Battleship.") Others are naughty, nipping lapdogs. ("The Dictator.") Here, what we get is a calm, quiet basset hound. And, for the most part, it's a good dog.

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]

There’s more than enough deranged originality there — and Christmas spirit, when all is said and done — that it gets the job done, in a cheap thrills, guilty pleasure kind of way.

Amid it all, Snead does a nice job of laying out the history of video games. If nothing else, there's a lot of information here. But there's also a lot of information on the Wikipedia entry for "video games." All in all, I'd rather be playing "Madden 15."

Few people will be surprised by how it all unfolds or by how it all ends. This is a movie about lightweight entertainment and heavyweight fighters, not a movie about surprises.

When it comes down to it, there's one overriding factor that lessens the impact of the film's numerous stumbles, and that's this: It's just plain entertaining to see all these warped characters, and all these well-cast actors, bouncing off of one another, interacting with one another, and creating a barely controlled chaos.

The surrealist and decidedly bizarre humor of Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim is, to put it mildly, an acquired taste -- and there's no guarantee you'll ever actually acquire it.

The end result is still not a very good film, but it is one that boasts some enjoyable moments -- but only if you find yourself with two hours to kill.

What Leonie is missing, however -- in its script, in its performances, really in everything about it -- is any hint of sparkle, any sort of compelling hook on which to hang its hat.

If nothing else, the dramatic comedy The Last Word provides one thing: It gives Shirley MacLaine a great role in which to sink her teeth. That turns out to be a gift not only to the Hollywood veteran but to audiences as well.

Maybe it would work better if the script -- which is credited to four screenwriters; never a great sign -- was actually funny.

This much is sure: Salinger would have hated this movie. But he would have hated it for the very reason that others will like it: because it takes an honest-to-goodness crack at unlocking that mystery of a man and at answering key questions the publishing world and the reading public have been asking ever since he forsook them. Nothing phony about that.

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.

"The Lost Village" is pure Saturday-morning stuff. And that's both a good thing and a bad thing.

The violence in Homefront is violence purely for entertainment's sake.

As ridiculous as it is, Man on a Ledge isn't a movie that requires suspension of disbelief. It requires the absolute absence of it.

If all this sounds totally awesome, you're probably already an afficionado of the Sega- and Nintendo-licensed products from which director Jim Yukich's movie has been cloned. And you may be brain-dead as well, which would certainly enhance your enjoyment of his picture. [11 Nov 1994, p.L29]

The best of the blaxploitation horror flicks, with William Marshall back as the African vampire summoned by that ol'black magic and some hip voodooo practitioners, led by high priestess Pam Grier. [21 Oct 1995, p.E1]

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

So does the film succeed, overall? On some levels. But if all you want is a guilt-free, sci-fi summer pleasure, save your money and wait another week. The crew of the Enterprise is on its way.

So what we have is a movie that will make at least two important groups happy. New Orleans boosters can cheer Green Lantern for its local roots and for the possibility that the inevitable future installments could return to town. And the purists can cheer, knowing that Campbell and crew have done Green Lantern justice.

You want a change-up? Here's a change-up: How about if Hollywood stops spoon-feeding us this uninspired pablum and comes up with a fresh idea or two?

The stakes in this latest, disappointing Harry Potter wannabe never feel as high as they should, or as important as its characters seem to think they are.

Feels like a movie that belongs in June or July, with all the other comic book fare. But I'll gladly take it now, no matter what the calendar says.

If not for the "Fast and Furious" franchise, Need for Speed probably wouldn't exist outside of the video game series that inspired it.

Director Klay Hall's embraceable, overachieving romp plays nicely as a big-screen feature.

As with its gooey, smoochy predecessors, The Lucky One is, beneath it all, a fairy-tale romance, just one with modern trappings.

New Orleans makes for a distinctive backdrop, but that's really all just window dressing, and it goes only so far in covering the fact that The Runner -- from its moody, electric-guitar-driven score to its faintly 1990s, Grisham-flavored sensibilities -- runs out of narrative inspiration before it crosses the finish line.

I'm not sure how much of The Dirt is good, old-fashioned hyperbole. Good lord, I hope a lot of it is, although I'm sure the band -- the members of which wrote the book on which the film is based in addition to serving as co-producers -- would swear everything in it is true.

The real reason Zemeckis’ Pinocchio works so well is because it doesn’t forget the emotion and humor.

It has a sweet quality, and Forest Whitaker gets a chance to show off his comic chops.

Yes, it's flashy. But it's not flashy enough. It's got its moments of humor, but it's not funny enough. And it flirts with cleverness, but -- you guessed it -- it's nowhere close to being clever enough.

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

Unfortunately, Think Like a Man Too never takes the time to elevate any of those characters to beyond mere cardboard cutouts.

It's also deeply flawed, an emotionally exhausting film with a payoff that is limited at best, and a bit self-indulgent to boot. So while Haggis has proven himself a first-rate filmmaker and storyteller, by his standards, Third Person is little more than a second-rate effort.

All of this goes down somewhat easier, it's true, with talents like Cage (who's at his loose, non-Expressionistic best here) and Jackson (who proved himself a great dramatic actor in Spike Lee's "Jungle Fever") at the helm. Both performers extract what reality they can from Frye's two-dimensional creations, and they give Amos & Andrew at least an iota of satirical bite. [05 Mar 1993, p.L21]

The world is a whole lot more complex than Shadyac seems to realize. If all we need is love, wouldn't we all still be wearing tie-dyed shirts and headbands?

It tickles both funnybones and eyeballs.

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

What they're missing here is a story good enough to warrant visiting the same uncomfortably dark place and characters worth caring about. Instead, what we get is a film that boasts tons of atmosphere and flashes of Refn's visual style -- as well as an admirably unhinged performance from Kristen Scott Thomas -- but little else.

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.

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]

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.

To be fair, though, even if all three actors had brought their A game, the half-baked story behind When We First Met is so formulaic and so uninspired that it would still be a forgettable film.

There are entertaining moments along the way, and some likeable characters.

Not much sets director (and co-writer) Rowdy Herrington's suspenser apart from other run-of-the-mill efforts in this genre, though a number of supporting players acquit themselves well. And the story's resolution has the ring of unpleasant truth to it. Willis is by now so familiar with characters like the perennially grungy Hardy that he can portray them in his sleep - and at times seems to be doing just that - while Sarah Jessica Parker makes for a fairly lackluster romantic sidekick. [22 Sept 1993, p.E10]

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

This unintentionally fractured ends up one big mess. It's a pretty mess, mind you -- which is fitting in a way, given the sordid affair that birthed it -- but a mess all the same.

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."

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

As one who could by no stretch of the imagination be called a video junkie, I was prepared to take an instant dislike to the big- screen version of Nintendo's wildly popular Super Mario Bros. Instead, I mildly enjoyed it. [9 June 1993, p.E7]

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.

Clearly, Brevig's past as a visual effects maestro had him focusing more on the look of Yogi Bear than on crafting anything resembling a clever narrative.

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

Even at its worst moments, it's better than "awful." But at its best, it's never comes close to "incredible."

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

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]

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.

It's the kind of cinematic cotton candy that youngsters will gobble up. Even more importantly, it's relatively quick, painless stuff when compared to so many other pint-sized entertainments out there.

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

That's perhaps the best word to describe Baggage Claim: contrived. And predictable, as it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which tall, dark and handsome fellow she'll end up with.

Manages to overcome its flaws and become a charming love letter to love itself -- and a pitch-perfect V-Day date film to boot.

Viewed as anything but fodder for scares, The Crush is silly business. Its villainess is much less credible than Barrymore's, while its landscaping and decor manifest a lot more thought than its psychology. Nonetheless, the picture manages to sustain an effectively creepy atmosphere for most of its 80-odd minutes, making it tolerable for moviegoers content with nothing more. [8 Apr 1993, p.E10]

The core of The Mummy is built around a mostly fun, fast-moving vibe, while its malformed midsection seeks to undermine anything good it has accomplished.

Built on spasms of explosive summertime action interspersed throughout a vacant shell of an origins story, animator-turned-director Jimmy Hayward's first stab at directing a live-action film ends up feeling like one great, big missed opportunity.

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.

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]

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

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]

This would be a difficult film even for the charismatic Papa Smith to carry. That he spends nearly the entire movie in a chair doesn't help matters.

Fortunately, there's enough charisma in those doe eyes -- to narrowly rescue the featherweight Leap Year from becoming a full-blown case of Erin-go-blah.

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]

With a scattered, meandering script, a stable of throwaway characters and an almost laughably drawn-out ending, it's all amounts to standard movie-of-the-week fare dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes.

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.

Unlike it's "Transformers" cousin, the story is appealingly straightforward, and the movie is chock-a-block with breathless action sequences.

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.

A textbook example of ye olde two-joke movie.

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

An unapologetic B-movie, Dylan Dog: Dead of Night tries mightily to cover its flaws with a peppering of humor -- much of it supplied courtesy of Dylan's zombie sidekick, played by Sam Huntington -- and an at-times fun "Buffy the Vampire Hunter" vibe.

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.

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.

And so the real question isn't whether director Todd Phillips' third -- and, he insists, the final -- installment in the unabashedly crude, very R-rated comedy trilogy is funny. Of course, it is.

Functioning as more parable than sermon, it offers at least a hint of a blueprint for other faith filmmakers who want their message to reach beyond the front pew.