Goldblum's wobbly German accent and the staginess of the script doom this effort by Paul Schrader ("American Gigolo").

Marines did not play football in full anti-chemical suits in 112-degree weather; men would have been collapsing and perhaps dying because it was so hard to breathe in the gas masks. Do I quibble over details? Details are all the movie offers. There isn't a story.

The climax is as dull as reading the dictionary of a language you do not speak.

Occasionally becomes melodramatic.

Footloose won me over early, with a sequence in which the hero gets all heavy metal while restoring his badass ... VW Bug.

I love the series, but Jason Bourne is the worst of the five.

An oddly endearing little chamber piece that provides a terrific showcase for Hoffman, surely the best actor who has never been nominated for an Oscar.

Treads water.

It’s a low-key rest-stop story that appreciates life’s banalities and the struggles of ordinary people.

Bursting with the usual colorful pop music numbers and lighter-than-a-soap-bubble quandaries, the film is a typical Bollywood entry, not likely to win over many new converts

Gogol Bordello plays a mix of punk rock and Gypsy music that recalls the work of the Serbian No Smoking Band. Onstage, Gogol Bordello puts on a visually outrageous show that one member describes as "kick-ass."

But exciting as La Scorta might be, it is at heart a conventional thriller that breaks no new genre ground.

Be warned that Wolf Totem, featuring one of the final scores by the late great James Horner, is probably too brutal for younger children and more sensitive animal lovers.

For its wicked innocence, this is the finest rock movie since "Almost Famous."

Although the script works in a couple of pages of collegiate-level ethical debate about "the question of German guilt," what the movie is really interested in is the question of German sex. So think of it as "Schindler's Lust."

By the time White gets around to condescending remarks... the film has become a sort of BBC "Hee Haw," meant to reassure Brits and New Yorkers that the South is indeed a land of pistol-toting, Jesus-praising gap-toothed freaks.

Even though you definitely don’t leave contemplating the narrative, the detailed and authentic ‘80s aesthetic conjures a spell.

While he takes an evenhanded approach, the filmmaker appears on camera far too often and goes off point as frequently as Moore.

Sure, it’s got its horror aspects. But for my money, this movie belongs alongside “Secretary,” “Ginger Snaps” and “Thirteen” in the family of deliciously dark female coming-of-age stories.

There is no tragedy without character, yet the way The King drapes heavy situations around its feebly imagined personalities suggests a tire thrown around the neck of a poodle.

Love is the weak link in this clumsily titled rom-com, which plays a bit like a hipster infomercial for Austin, Texas.

Baseball movies tend to be lyrical, deeply felt, aggressively metaphorical and (consequently) terrible, but Trouble With the Curve has something most others lack: Eastwood's superb, cruel sense of humor, which reaches all the way back to "Every Which Way But Loose."

The prize for most sick-making movie I've ever seen goes to . . . that Driver's Ed film I saw when I was 16. The psychological thriller Hard Candy is right up there, though. I didn't know whether to applaud or barf.

Goes down smoothly.

This promising premise is turned into basically an overgrown TV movie.

The sharpest, wildest and most unpredictable thriller I’ve seen this year.

It’s Olsen’s emotional frailty that helps pump up a bad movie into a mediocre one.

It’s kind of cute but mostly just awkward, somewhere between watching bros who slept through French class trying to work their game in Nice and endless CBS sitcoms about nutty guys ruled by exasperated, boring women.

Represents a kind of progress. Where once only a few ultra-talented, lucky black filmmakers got to make big studio movies, now we have standard-issue Hollywood schlock that happens to be made by, about and for African-Americans.

A serious, wrenching and oddly poetic documentary.

Harris, a talented comic actress who looks more like a real person than a Hollywood facsimile of one, makes every scene she's in shine.

An intensity of purpose and a patient, suspenseful directing style make the B-movie Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning superior to most of the big-budget action films I've seen lately.

The embarrassing drama — offensive, clunky, poorly written — sullies Eastwood’s storied legacy, and makes great actors such as Bradley Cooper and Dianne Wiest come off like amateurs.

Tired? This series is as exhausted as Shrek after a day of baby wrangling and diaper changing.

A fresh, fast and funny little fable.

A witty and occasionally wise take on sibling bonds and adulthood — even if the latter only arrives kicking and screaming.

A preposterous mix of sentiment and brutality that casts martial-arts star Jet Li as a music-loving killing machine, turns out to be his most entertaining movie in quite some time.

Set on the seamy side of Barcelona, Biutiful may not be a feel-good movie for this time of year, but it's well worth your time.

As for Baron Cohen, he's a great comic but his acting can still use work - most of his funniest lines appear to have been dubbed over other actors' reaction shots in post-production.

Revenge is a dish best served with bullets, high explosives and giant rolling flameballs. In Quantum of Solace, James Bond orders the revenge buffet, deluxe.

There’s a lot going on here, but Washington’s complex, emotionally turbulent performance makes it all work.

While an iconic figure in France, Gainsbourg isn't a household name here in the States. But that shouldn't stop audiences from enjoying Sfar's good-looking, fanciful film.

You need a scorecard to keep track of who's bedding whom in Happily Ever After, a tres French take on sex and love, in that order.

Certainly watchable, but don’t go expecting much in the way of surprises.

For the most part, the film is second-rate horror, but watchable enough.

I can't remember ever seeing such a spectacular implosion of a squad of all-stars as Rise of the Guardians. Well, not since Yankee Stadium in October.

At the film’s most entertaining heights, it recalls the novels of Ray Bradbury and the Matt Damon flick “The Martian.” But its final twist is an extremely implausible, easy way out.

The film failed to be frightening, suspenseful or dramatic but accidentally succeeded in being absolutely hilarious.

Boasts a lovable ensemble cast, with a standout performance by Zaira Valenzuela as 14-year-old Paola.

Contains all the clichés of the post-prison genre -- but it has some redeeming qualities.

Tepid tale of star-crossed lovers in 1910 Wales.

No light leavens the ashen wash of writer-director Tim Blake Nelson's relentlessly downbeat Holocaust drama The Grey Zone. None.

With uncommon ineptitude even by the standards of contemporary action flicks, Kyle's script submerges the inherently dramatic tale of the K-19 under a pile of clichés, while failing to tell you enough about the characters for their actions to make much sense.

There's not much new in this Filipino film by longtime director Gil M. Portes. But it's so endearing that only a grouch wouldn't be charmed.

This furious finger-pointer's doc is so one-sided, it undermines its own integrity.

A crass, heavy- handed and -- most unforgivably -- largely laugh-free adaptation of The Master's infrequently revived 1924 comic melodrama.

Michael Berry’s Frontera offers an unsparing look at the plight of illegal immigrants, even if the ending seems too patly convenient.

Rarely has a documentary been so pleased with itself - with so little justification.

The best compensation for sitting through this silliness is Alice Taglioni as the primary cop.

The reason Waititi’s films (yes, even “Thor: Ragnarok”) are so resonant is that they’ve always placed love and humanism at the heart of their humor. “Jojo,” despite going to some very dark places for its laughs, is no exception.

A decent football movie, just about good enough to be the 40th best episode of "Friday Night Lights" . . . which has aired 39 episodes.

Dispenses with much of the caramel gooeyness of the first two episodes in favor of decent action, some heartfelt tender moments and even a splash of wit. This time they’re actually Twi-ing.

The simple, highly effective gimmick of this straightforward shocker is a malevolent clawed spectre named Diana (Alicia Vela-Bailey), who only appears in the dark.

The Woman is disturbing, lurid and perverse, but that isn't necessarily bad: Horror buffs, especially fans of Ketchum, will be overcome with joy and excitement.

Some of the acting feels cardboard; the plot points are never shocking. Eastwood’s love interest is about four decades his junior. And yet, the director casts a Zen cowboy spell that makes it all sort of irresistible.

The film is an often ugly character study of a hard life that only got worse the more famous Martin got.

There have been worse horror flicks, but although this one offers a few scares, it doesn't have a lot of imagination.

The movie (Untitled) is a tinny satire destined to go "(Unwatched)" because it is "(Uninteresting)."

The folks on "Survivor" have nothing on Julia Butterfly Hill.

There isn't a line you haven't heard or a stock character you haven't encountered before.

Less a conventional biography than a performance film - one that stuns and delights.

Although deft editing provides neat segues, "Safety" suffers from a case of too many dramas, too little time. Characters are given no chance to develop and, too often, their behavior turns on a dime, hurtling off into a parallel universe of extreme acts.

The film isn't remotely scary. That's a shame, because it has top-notch performances by Peter Mullan and David Caruso.

That his dialogue is often deliberately anachronistic is part of the joke -- and Wilson's sly delivery is often funnier than the lines themselves.

Enough SpongeBob-meets-Monty-Python silliness to give adults a kick as well.

The film is less violent and bloody than much of the director's work, but the absurdity level is sky high. Takashi Miike is at the top of his game, loving every minute of his surreal visit to the twilight zone.

This only mildly bloated and convoluted action comedy has enough inspired moments to wipe out memories of the abysmal 2002 first sequel as surely as one of the black-suited heroes' neutralizer.

Even with Burton's imagination turning its trademark cartwheels, the film's big beating heart holds the whimsical offshoots steady.

Snowden could have been a character portrait, but instead it’s like “The Bourne Identity” minus the chases and fights, which is like a ham and cheese sandwich minus the ham and cheese. As a consequence, I suspect, this film will make no bread.

First-time writer-director Adam Reid has a lightly endearing touch as he allows the actors plenty of space to be warm without being cute.

It's hard to make a movie about moonshiners that isn't entertaining, but the lethargic, generically titled Lawless comes perilously close - at least a third of its two hours is devoted to "arty'' shots of landscapes.

Then everything went wrong, thanks to Middle East politics -- as the moving documentary Raging Dove shows.

The chief attraction in the overlong 20 Centimeters, besides ample soft-core sex, are the well-staged musical numbers.

Having seen the trailer for Brothers and now the finished film, I feel as though I just watched the trailer twice.

For boldness of execution as well as vision, The Red Chapel stands out as a singular, important comedy.

To describe this as a movie about a mediocre businessman biding his time before an appointment probably makes it sound more exciting than it is.

The lovable Ross, who does her own singing, doesn’t have her mom Diana’s diva energy, and Johnson speaks with only a rote understanding of music. The film’s one twist is as predictable as tomorrow’s itinerary.

Looks great, and the performances are solid, but the disparate elements in this oddity - which created a minor stir at the Sundance Film Festival last year - never entirely coalesce.

Toward the end, despite the wintry script and chilly acting, some emotion begins to break through. But it’s never a good sign when the art direction offers more fascination than the sex.

There's a story here, but the film doesn't tell it.

The sort of movie where all of the best jokes are in the trailer, but these days a romantic comedy with anything worth quoting at all is something of an accomplishment.

Del Toro overdoes the anguish to the point of looking like he’s playing advanced constipation, and the film, by France’s Arnaud Desplechin, gets stuck in an endless series of therapy scenes built around cheesy re-enactments of Jimmy P’s dreams.

The addition of Glover and Danny DeVito keeps Jumanji: The Next Level afloat, even with barely the whisper of a plot.

The studio’s latest likable musical is nicely animated, has nice characters and a few nice songs. At risk of repeating myself: It’s nice.

The sincerity and simplicity of the film, however, lift it somewhat above the ordinary run.

This one is often more interesting than involving.

The character of ZigZag is not sufficiently developed to support a film constructed around him.

English-language remakes of foreign films are usually suspect, but Tortilla Soup is the exception that proves the rule - a flavorful comedy about a food-centric Latino family in Los Angeles.