All the tedium of an endless trans-Atlantic flight gets packed into the 105 minutes of Non-Stop.

Nunez gets nice performances from his cast, but his narrative is cluttered.

Well-intentioned, if ultimately underwhelming, ode to the ongoing fight for a cure.

Less enjoyable than making a baby but more enjoyable than raising one, the animated feature Storks delivers a bouncing bundle of blah.

A taut suspense flick for grown-ups.

Douchebag belies its abrasive title with a soft touch for two wobbly souls.

Harks back to a 1960s idea of what a horror film should be.

Ethan Coen’s road-trip comedy “Drive-Away Dolls” does not have that cinematic new-car smell. No, the stale scent is closer to months-old, unfinished McDonald’s Happy Meals and inexplicably maroon stains. The creaky vehicle has racked up so many miles, it barely starts. So tired and unappetizing, this dreadful film is.

Basically a PG-13 version of “After Hours,” with more than a bit of “The Out-of-Towners” thrown in.

The mild British wackiness is more droll than funny, but the movie is a pleasant cup of tea.

Slightly radical in portraying high schoolers as human beings of normal niceness and intelligence. That means this winsome comedy is a little low in the stakes department, not to mention predictable, but it gets an “A” for charm.

The kind of unsophisticated family entertainment they supposedly don't make anymore.

More impressive than the sight of these acts on an eight-story screen is the excellent six-channel IMAX sound system.

This frigid and inaccessible period piece wears its glumness like a shroud.

There are no end of tear-jerking moments in Perlasca, a well-made and heart-rending Italian "Schindler's List."

Garcon Stupide features the best gay seduction scene ever filmed on a Ferris wheel. Unfortunately, you have to sit through the entire movie to get to it. Whether you want to will depend on your interest in explicit gay sex.

In addition to the magnificent music, the movie takes its rumpled charm from Fry's unfeigned fanboy manner.

Armie Hammer has given several of the worst performances in recent years — see, or rather don’t, “Mirror Mirror” and “J. Edgar.” The big surprise in The Man from U.N.C.L.E is that Henry Cavill is even worse.

The way-too-neat ending of The Brave One especially strains credulity, but it's worth watching for Foster's fiercely arresting performance.

Director McLean doesn't let up on the suspense, which builds to an electrifying climax that is greatly abetted by Will Gibson's gritty cinematography and Francois Tetaz' nerves-inducing score.

Everybody involved in 39 Pounds of Love probably had the best of intentions. But watching the filmmakers scurry about to record every last tear, I couldn't help but feel that this twisted little man was being exploited.

Farrell feels like a weak link here, never quite as masterfully manipulative or brutish as the role calls for.

By far, the highlight of Minions is hearing The Beatles’ “Got To Get You Into My Life” over the closing credits — the first time I think I’ve ever heard it used in a movie. Otherwise, the prequel to “Despicable Me” is like trying to form a rock band out of three Ringos.

Real Steel is to action what the Anthony Weiner habit was to sex: It's so virtual, so distant from the thrill, that you wonder what the point is. Do you really want to pay to watch an actor playing a kid who in turn plays what amounts to a video game?

Half dark, deliciously topical political satire and half somber portrait of a flailing counterinsurgency effort. The two don’t mesh well, and given the number of modern war movies already out there, it should have stuck with the former.

Unknown actually has enough of a sense of humor to admit what it is: hybrid corn. But it's been crossbred from Hitchcockian stock.

It examines other crises faced by JFK - Cuba, the Berlin Wall, civil war in Laos, the insurgency in Vietnam - and finds that in each case Kennedy chose talk over tanks. (Often, he went against advice of aides and generals.)

The legend of Thompson is immortal, though, and it'll fall to each generation to jam him into its own mold. Depp and Robinson's view is that Thompson was like a mullet: a party in the back but all business upfront.