An OK sports doc that owes as much to reality TV competitions as it does to the genre of nautical cinema.

An undemanding and reassuring amiability that made it a crowd-pleaser at Sundance.

A thoroughly satisfying mix of mayhem and mindless fun.

A wonderfully crafted, smartly acted study of a complex old coot.

There's lots of zero-g action in Ender's Game - even old Han Solo takes a whirl.

It's like a bath of stale testosterone as these Hollywood tough guys from the '80s swap references to their most famous movie lines. Their individual entrances are the primary pleasure of The Expendables 2.

Unfortunately, the plot runs out of dilithium crystals, and drifts to a sluggish and predictable conclusion

Birth makes its oddball supernaturalism seem completely, compellingly real.

At its best, Worlds Away is a parade of mostly attractive acrobats performing physically improbable feats. At its worst, it has the humorlessness of Ridley Scott plumbing the deeper meanings of an Esther Williams water ballet.

The film is at once shamelessly transparent, manipulative, and far-fetched, and impossibly suspenseful. You'll want to take a shower afterward - that's how icky you'll feel.

The movie avoids most of the romantic comedy cliches, and its leads are appealing. That's almost enough for me. But not quite.

It wants to be "Wedding Crashers," but it's not nearly as memorable, smart, or sweet.

Clunky and unsurprising.

Quite possibly the biggest ego trip ever to play Cannes, or anywhere else, at any time.

Unlike the first film, which was broader and more episodic, this one has a narrative throughline.

The fundamental problem with The Night Listener is the manner in which the boy, Pete, is depicted. Rory Culkin gets the tricky job of bringing the role to life, and he does it well, but it's still a trick. Or is it?

Never again let it be said that an action movie is just like a video game. Hardcore Henry, a frenetic, dizzying, and ultraviolent actioner from Russian rocker-turned-director Ilya Naishuller is one - a first-person shooter writ large for the big screen.

That's kind of the aesthetic that Stanton is going for: over-the-top pulp. But there's something generic about the digitally rendered Martians, and there's a corniness to the dialogue that keeps the audience from any kind of emotional attachment to the Tharks and Zodangans and their ilk.

Mulholland Falls deserves more a tip of the hat than an enthusiastic greeting. [26 Apr 1996, p.03]

There's a xenophobic element to Taken's premise, to be sure - the idea that travel, even to Western Europe, isn't safe for Americans, and that foreigners (Albanians, Arabs) are by nature shifty and sinister.

Diaz gets her own voice-over monologue, as does Patric - the different points of view functioning like stanza refrains, born in shared familial anguish.

While Ferrell and Reilly are great together, hatching harebrained schemes that have no basis in reality, part of the unexpected treat of Step Brothers is watching Jenkins and Steenburgen sink to such blithely immature levels of rude and crude comedy.

An airless, bilious, endless pageant of pseudohistory.

The violence is plenty, and pointless.

Worse yet, Romeo Is Bleeding - which is extremely bloody - just isn't all that fun. [4 Feb 1994, p.12]

Shot on the cheap, with cheesy animated credits and comic-panel "Bams!" and "Pows!" splashed across the screen, Super has a jokey, low-rent quality (or lack of quality) that could be endearing, if Wilson's performance weren't so nihilistically dull, and if there were somebody in the picture who had a soul.

The film's grand concept is betrayed by Anthony Jaswinski's clumsy, mediocre script and by Anderson's inability to manage the talents of a great cast.

Stevenson is big and swarthy and not altogether without credibility, but he's got as much charisma as a potato.