An Unexpected Journey also proves that it is, indeed, possible to get too much of a good thing.

Drama is one thing. Resonance is another. Without digging deeply enough, "The Finest Hours" seems content to capture the former while ignoring the latter.

A movie with undeniable melancholy underpinnings, but Bertuccelli wisely avoids overdoing the drama to nurse cheap tears from her audience.

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.

This isn't a movie that pretends to be profound. It's meant purely as B-movie entertainment, and -- also like the "John Wick" films -- it's fully aware of that.

Even though Blue Bayou could have been set anywhere, Chon is smart enough of a storyteller to leverage the personality and textures of New Orleans — just as he did with southern Los Angeles in his 2017 film Gook — to lend his film a very specific and very authentic sense of place.

A heartwarming -- and at times heartbreaking -- post-"Juno" road comedy for grownups.

A low-energy drama, but the kind that has a way of holding your attention -- and keeping you smiling -- for the entire time you're watching it, lifting your mood in the process.

In a word: Bibbidi-bobbidi-blah.

The film -- lame of title but big on fun.

Blown up to big-screen size, you can see that "Going All the Way" isn't "a Midwestern 'Catcher in the Rye' " at all. It's really an old-fashioned gay romance - with everything but the significant glances ruthlessly cut out. [12 Dec 1997, p.L33]

In the end, it all amounts to something of a cinematic victory lap, but one played with finesse and just enough fresh material to make the encore worth it. In a world of bloated reboots and soulless sequels, “Spinal Tap II: The End Continues” earns its place on the setlist.

Almost feels as if it is two different films. One is the opening 20 minutes or so, in which most of the screwball comedy takes place. The other comes when Yimou gets on with the real story. That's where the payoff comes in.

There's something haunting going on in The Notebook -- in the story, in the performances, in the overall atmosphere -- that makes it hard to look away from, and equally hard to forget.

Designed to lead viewers on a latter-day vision quest, "Little Buddha" instead offers only mystical mumbo-jumbo. And poorly plotted mumbo-jumbo, at that. [27 May 1994, p.L32]

That it's all true might make it more heart-tugging, but it doesn't make it any more interesting.

Along the way, a raft of experts are featured -- including Times-Picayune outdoor editor Bob Marshall -- speaking bluntly about the cozy relationship between politicians and the oil industry.

Aside from the “you-got-your-zombie-thriller-in-my-heist-movie” element, there’s nothing here that’s strikingly original, but Army of the Dead is still fun in its overblown, unapologetically violent way.

The problems here are more with the story, which, even at just 89 minutes, feels a touch repetitive at times.

Chimpanzee is so skillfully crafted, and the big-hearted outcome so endearing and entertaining, that any narrative liberties taken to aid in the telling of this prehensile tale are not only forgivable but welcome.

Southpaw has at least one thing its predecessors don't: It's got Jake Gyllenhaal in the lead role, and that makes a big difference.

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.

It's also both intense and entertaining enough to leave audiences hungry for the inevitable sequel so clearly set up by its cliffhanger ending.

For one to succeed, it should have a certain "emotional intelligence" of its own. It should have a soul. It should bring something new to the conversation. And while Eva dips a toe into those waters, it never really invites its audiences to dive in head-first.

For the first time in its 25-year existence, Pixar has created an utterly ordinary film.

Along the way, Shut Up, Little Man boasts nice technical elements. And it is, admittedly, amusing to a degree. Peter and Raymond certainly know how to turn a phrase. But things begin to wear thin about halfway through.

Gets considerable gas from the fact that Bateman, Sudeikis and Day so convincingly play three idiotic pals. The real fun, though, is in the fantastic supporting cast.

It's a good, old-fashioned sit-around-the-campfire ghost story, one that delivers on its sole reason for existence: to raise the hairs on the back of your arms.

Ends up being an enjoyable, if only marginally memorable, ride.

The result: a fun and sweet romantic comedy that lands comfortably on the smart side of vacant, along the way offering a pleasant and satisfying holiday diversion for the grown-ups in the room.

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.

Those who connected with "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" last year or the lesser "Quartet" earlier this year likely will find things to appreciate about Williams' film, given its similar senior citizen angle and general sense of niceness and decency.

There's a soothing catharsis in the idea that good guys are every bit as capable as bad guys of raining hellfire down on their enemies.

Ritchie and company spend too much time being cute and not enough time being clever, resulting in a one-dimensional comic-book version of Doyle's detectives.

Scene after scene falls flat, goes nowhere. Reiner seems to have left his storytelling skills up north. He even garbles the chronology. [13 Jan 1997, p.L23]

This is, on balance, a diverting little picture, but it could - and should - have been downright hilarious. [13 Aug 1993, p.L21]

Writer-director Brian Helgeland has created a medieval romp with A Knight's Tale, a joyous entertainment that defies characterization. [11 May 2001, p.10]

Most of all, though, there's the story itself, which was already pretty quirky -- and amazing -- even before Oscar-nominated screenwriter Thomas McCarthy ("Up") put pen to paper for director Craig Gillespe's film.

The good news: This is Goldthwait the writer-director, not Goldthwait the actor -- so there's no schticky voice to endure. But his exceedingly black comedy does speak loudly -- and it turns out he's actually got something worthwhile to say.

These characters are so likeable, and so well-portrayed, that it's easy to go along with it all.

As well-intended as it is, writer-director Max Mayer's film lacks focus.

It's hard to escape the feeling that Hopkins left a lot on the table -- and that there's a better Jesse Owens film to be told.

The pieces click together nicely in what ends up being an overall enjoyable package.

Getting two biographies on the same person in such a short window is unusual. What's even more unusual is that both suffer from the same flaw.

"Fast and Furious" movies are supposed to be unchallenging, but Fate of the Furious is full-on brain-dead.

It keeps you guessing, it keeps the tension ratcheted up, and it offers a dose of breathless -- if sometimes brainless -- suspense.

One major reason it succeeds is because of 11-year-old actress Bailee Madison, who brings a wonderful believability to her role as the girl at the center of the film.

If your definition of a good story is one that keeps you on the hook, wondering where the heck this particular journey will take you, then French Exit certainly qualifies.

There are a number of laughs to be had in what ends up being an uneven but surprisingly likeable dose of low-calorie nonsense.

When making a film for 10-year-old boys, it doesn't have to be good, necessarily -- just good enough. And that's exactly what Real Steel is: good enough.

Steadman is a fascinating talent with a fascinating process and a fascinating perspective on the world. Maybe somebody will make a definitive documentary about him one day. Unfortunately, For No Good Reason isn't it.

Intermittently interesting, but well-intentioned, it almost makes up for "The Tourist."

As a result, Hereafter isn't so deep that it will change the way many people think about the afterlife. But it is heartfelt and thoughtful and, in a way, comforting.

Enchanting enough to cast a spell over fans, of Jolie, of Disney, of "Sleeping Beauty" -- and of pure, cinematic escapism.

It's probably best not to think very hard about any of it -- just dummy up and laugh along.

The result is a film with sporadic outbursts of wackiness, but one that (Oh, Fortuna's Wheel!) never gains traction from a storytelling standpoint.

Concussion is at its best when it's digging into the science of Omalu's work, chronicling his discovery and his subsequent David-vs.-Goliath fight to get people to acknowledge that he was right. Less effective is the portrayal of the personal toll his fight cost him.

Director Martin Campbell does a nice job of creating suspense, and Ray Winstone stands out for his performance as a conflicted hitman.

A giddy blend of style and attitude that plays like a lightweight cross between a Guy Ritchie and Wes Anderson film.

It's pretty obvious that Almodovar at least was having fun making I'm So Excited. Ditto for his actors, who admirably go all-in for these roles. I'm glad they're having a good time. After all, somebody has to find a reason get excited about I'm So Excited.

So we get no zippy, Tony Stark-flavored one-liners. No comic-relief characters. No nonsense. But that means we also get no up, up and away, either.

In other words, For a Good Time is not a good time. For that, you'll have to dust off your Nintendo and reacquaint yourself with "The Legend of Zelda" -- and hope that one of these days somebody can give "Bridesmaids" some real competition.

As beautiful as the animation is, Zemeckis' real masterstroke is combining it with a loyalty to Dickens' story.

For most of its two-hour running time, Almost Christmas is merely almost funny.

Lee keeps things afloat with an appealing air of levity, including a fun but restrained use of split-screen, an homage to the 1970 doc, as well as cameos by that movie's Port-O-San guy and its peace-sign-flashing nuns.

McDonald's film never really finds its footing -- and The Eagle never takes flight.

Hitchcock purists will certainly take issue with some details, but Gervasi's film shouldn't be taken as an ironclad factual film docudrama. Rather, it is fact-inspired fiction -- a film based on real events but one that isn't shy about taking creative liberties. As long as viewers keep that in mind, Gervasi's stands to be a nice bit of murderous fun.

Never elevated beyond much more than mere presidential puffery.

Tony Scott pushes all the right buttons, crafting a worthy -- and in many ways, a superior -- update.

It has its scares — but it all also feels exceedingly familiar, right up to the obligatory set-up for what the studio clearly hopes will be a sequel.

It goes down far more easily than the budget-friendly tripe so often passed off as a romantic comedy here in the streaming era.

The resulting coming-of-age story isn't necessarily an uplifting one. It is harsh. It is melancholy. It is sometimes uncomfortable to watch and predictable here and there. But it also boasts a feeling of authenticity.

While Washington and Wahlberg help make sure the flawed 2 Guns isn't too bad, it's hard not to think that it could have been better.

Maybe it's a touch twee, but Curtis' film is far too uplifting, too life-affirming and too good-natured to do anything but embrace.

Unlike in some of his other recent films, Shyamalan never overreaches this time. Instead, he keeps things simple and focuses on the story at hand.

The result is a film with a scattered feel. That's particularly true in the film's rushed third act, as it skips around all herky-jerky, cramming in resolutions to the various conflicts but never quite giving any of them adequate time to gel.

The ultimate goal of a film like this, of course, is to change minds. As compelling a case as it builds, Promised Land isn't quite persuasive enough to be able to promise to do that.

The Croods does a lot of things well -- even if it does none of them extraordinarily. The end result is a solidly middle-of-the-road bit of animation -- but the kind that is easily forgotten as soon as something more evolved, and original, comes along.

After a "Porky's"-style segment dealing with puppy lust, the film then segues to its better second half, hitting its stride when a ball signed by the revered Babe Ruth must somehow be retrieved from behind the fence.

If the surpassingly murky narrative logic behind "Generations" is any indication of what's to come, Paramount had better start making explanatory material available to perplexed viewers as well as confused critics. [18 Nov. 1994, p.L27]

A well-intended but scattered dramatic comedy.

Before it gives itself a chance to deliver on that promise, however, it morphs into something different -- something often resembling a soap opera, just with prettier sets and less-passionate smooching.

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.

Dunston does all sorts of zany things in Ken Kwapis' wisely brief feature, but whether the movie is therefore worth seeing will depend on whether his monkeyshines are apt to make the viewer go ape. [12 Jan 1996, p.L24]

Lacks any real sense of vitality. And no matter how worthwhile a film's message is, it's difficult for audiences to care if the path to the payoff so often feels like a slog.

Never coalesces into anything memorable, much less meaningful.

Twenty-five years ago, it would have been impossible to imagine that Imagine That would see Eddie Murphy and The Beatles coming together to create family entertainment, but I'll be darned if it doesn't work.

None of that is to say that Thor: The Dark World is a bad movie, necessarily. I would never speak ill of a man with a giant, magical hammer. At the same time, hammer or no hammer, it doesn't quite nail it, either.

It's a dark, troubled world that O'Brien has created, and one that's not without its occasional predictabilities. (As soon as you see Christopher Lloyd in the cast, you know he'll figure into the plot at some point. And you'd be right.) Still, it's one that -- like "Stranger Things" -- proves hard to resist.

Between its ridiculous setup and its hard-to-care-about ending, McDonald still manages to craft an engaging suspense film that -- when you're not scratching your head in puzzlement -- will have you on the edge of your seat.

This offbeat comedy-horror flick about a young man with a terminal fear of commitment turns out to be a modestly funny affair. [30 July 1993, p.L27]

Unwieldy and awkward. If you want to like this story, you'd better expect to have to work for it.

Director David Bowers' story is straightforwardly -- almost unimaginatively -- approached. But, armed with a talented cast and Kinney's chuckle-generating source material, it functions nicely as a sort of big-screen "Wonder Years" for Millennials.

What it lacks in style, however, it more than makes up for in substance, as Shearer -- as smart as he is funny -- has assembled a vital and admirably accessible post-mortem on Hurricane Katrina.

Amusing as it often is, it's all also fairly predictable stuff. If there's one thing Arteta's script is missing, it's imagination.

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.

Granted, "intelligent" might be too generous a word to describe Oblivion, which flirts with big questions, but never answers them. What's left is a story that doesn't quite go where no man has gone before.

It's undeniably a B-movie in disguise, leaning heavily on formula and well-established movie tropes to tell a familiar story.