A well-intended but scattered dramatic comedy.

It all adds up to a film that is at times interesting, and at times funny in spite of itself. But more than all that, it exudes a sense of heart-rending, chest-penetrating sadness.

Stone's characteristic on-his-sleeve political views aren't the problem with the often-sleepy Snowden. Rather, it's that his film – the lag-prone script for which the filmmaker co-wrote with Kieran Fitzgerald – really doesn't tell us much that we don't already know. That'll certainly be the case for anyone who saw director Laura Poitras' Oscar-winning 2014 documentary "Citizenfour," a remarkable bit of filmmaking.

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.

Love is Strange doesn't really have any sort of sense of urgency about it. To the contrary, it feels rather mundane, as their problems -- while both unfortunate and unfair -- feel relatively small when put in perspective.

The problem is, the closer our heroes come to their goal, the weaker the story becomes. What we're left with is a film that gets off to a ripping good start, but which -- given how little time is actually spent in the fanciful world after which the whose shebang is named -- ends up feeling like a cinematic bait-and-switch.

Disappointingly, all of "Jealousy's" promising narrative turns go nowhere. [3 July 1998, p.L28]

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.

Unfortunately, Brice appears more interested in ramping up the outrageousness and keeping his audiences guessing than in crafting a meaningful story. And so while his film is nothing if not unpredictable, that comes at the cost of the sort of emotional impact for which his film seems to be aiming.

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

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.

Has potential to be fun and meaningful, but it's not exactly a novel idea. In fact, it feels like a literary-minded "Lars and the Real Girl," the 2007 dramatic comedy that starred Ryan Gosling as a man who falls in love with a sex doll, and which coasted along on its charm and smarts.

One only wishes they were able to deliver these performances in a movie that felt more like a true celebration of Mandela's life -- and less like homework.

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.

Because the story is neither truly clever nor totally plausible - frequently, in fact, it's barely coherent - the film fails to deliver very many scares. [28 July 1995, p.L28]

It's not only shameless, it detracts from what this movie could have been, and still is when the self-promoting Harvey shuts up.

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]

Even when he isn't at the top of his game -- and in Wonder Wheel, he certainly isn't -- Allen's films still tend to have something intriguing to offer.

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.

As a collective thing, though, those moments add up to a messy, all-over-the-map movie that toys with big, existential thoughts, but it doesn't have a coherent enough story with which to drive them home.

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.

Those who like their swashbucklers to resemble, say, the farces of Jim Abrahams and the brothers Zucker, will be in good hands with David Loughery's obvious sight gags and anachronistically "hip" repartee. The only real wit in sight is supplied by Curry, who does what he can to give viewers some respite from the picture's relentlessly giddy brand of schmaltz. [12 Nov 1993, p.L25]

Don't get me wrong: Gyllenhaal is a great actor, one who exhibits a rare blend of strength and pathos. But not even he can elevate that kind of lazy writing.

Built on an interesting idea -- but which, unlike Strug, can't quite stick the landing.

Howard's film, particularly early on, ends up being too fast, too dense and too smart for its own good. Keeping moviegoers guessing is one thing. Keeping them confused is quite another.

There must also be a spark, a sense of life, a compelling reason for being. If a film doesn't have those -- which The Invisible Woman doesn't -- well, it might as well be invisible.

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

The result is a well-executed but stubbornly formulaic crime thriller that telegraphs most of its major surprises long before they ever happen. It's not a bad movie, mind you. It's just one that will strike viewers as exceedingly familiar, and as generic as that say-nothing title.