Washington and Zendaya, freed from lockdown, dig into the dialogue with zest, and they’ve got a palpable chemistry even in the midst of some horribly hurtful exchanges.

A sweet and endearing movie. Attention, kids: It's also packed with action!

The film’s relative modesty comes as something of a relief. Freed from the burden of canonical responsibility, it’s flighty fun; a Western-y space mission that’s commenced and neatly wrapped up inside of two hours.

The film's unusual look lends a magical feeling.

This chest is overfilled with exposition and physical comedy, without a doubloon's worth of the scary suspense that made the laughs in the first one such brilliant comic relief.

Dramatically inert, satirically inept and thematically insufferable, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk is the most disappointing film of the year.

The movie is still a mess, stumbling from comic-relief scenes that aren't funny to a job-training interlude in which we learn that, among other things, owls make excellent . . . blacksmiths?

Rarely is a sports movie so inept that it can't even make its central figure likable.

Indeed, for all its jokiness, this isn't the film for anyone who suffers from even the mildest fear of ugly, scuttling, jumping creatures with spindly, furry legs that have a habit of hiding in your shoes.

Has its share of laughs.

Dull and creaky soap opera.

A soggy love story doesn't help this instance of style over substance.

The self-possessed Hall is well-suited to this proto-feminist role, smoking and rolling her eyes as the pasty old men around her exclaim, for what is clearly the millionth time, "An educated woman!" as if she were a zoo animal.

Unfortunately, his machine fails en route; way more unfortunately, he comes up very short compared to Mark Watney, the red planet-stranded astronaut played with such humor and energy by Matt Damon in last year’s “The Martian.”

We watched a story of a Labrador. Who eats the couch and disobeys. I said to Lady, "It's a labra-bore."

A gooey morass of indie-movie clichés, the wacky-family dramedy The Hollars marks yet another egregiously cutesy attempt to rekindle that “Garden State” magic.

“Do you know how long it takes to peel the skin from a human body?” a torture-happy Russian goon asks in Red Sparrow. I imagine it feels about as long as sitting through this atrocious spy thriller.

Hollywood’s ongoing campaign to remake every horror movie of the 1970s and ’80s has finally caught up with the Stephen King-Brian De Palma classic “Carrie,’’ and the results are distressingly anemic, pig blood and all.

Sandler, like him or not, is a master at bringing ‘90s heart and sentiment to his dumb schtick, and he’s disarmingly quiet and warm here. And his best jokes have nothing to do with Halloween.

Cardinale’s few brief scenes are the ones with the most depth; her facial lines really did come along with some wisdom.

Director Greg Berlanti’s romantic comedy, which imagines that Richard Nixon’s administration really did film a fake, backup moon landing in 1969, is a mystifying misfire all along the way from initial concept to end credits.

The men who made The Guardian strive to be the averagest of the average - and don't quite succeed.

This future looks awfully passé: The stimulus didn't work out. Neither did 1917 Russia.

The most depressing date movie since "Random Hearts."

There's something oddly endearing about the Barenaked Ladies. And by the end of the movie, you begin to see just what it is that inspires such intense fan loyalty.

The director has listed Jean-Luc Godard as an influence, which explains the movie's French New Wave exuberance.

The film's tongue is so firmly in cheek that, without being a spoof like "Dragnet" or "The Brady Bunch Movie," it has more in common with the "Austin Powers" films.

Has precious little to add to the canon -- and does so in a highly melodramatic manner.