Adults expecting a little bit more, "Chicken Run," this ain't.

The movie tires itself out setting up the complex plot.

Click is yet another uninspired Adam Sandler goof-fest with a long suffering leading lady, mildly bawdy gags--see Joe Schomo oogle female jogger--and a predictable ending.

This handsomely mounted film, in its cute ADD way, soon forgets its half-hearted attempt to make History Relevant to What Is Going On in the World Today and morphs into a sort of Classic Comics on acid, or, as a friend so brilliantly put it, "the longest Eurythmics video ever made."

If you enjoy a cop drama, regardless how packed with trite and worn plot points, Pride and Glory should do the trick.

Whatever planet these dance sequences are happening on, their cuckoo surrealism is the movie's saving grace.

The problems with Tokyo Drift start with its ostensible hero; during the course of this movie, Sean makes so many dumb decisions it's a wonder that anyone wants to be associated with him.

As a thriller, The Statement is relatively disappointing, but as a moral study, the movie proves far more promising.

Beyond the tunes, however, Elizabethtown falls short of actual emotional resonance, and is really nothing more than a passable "Garden State" doppelgänger.

It's tough to get through because it's so slow; the beautiful Kristen Bell, who we love in almost everything, doesn't fit in with a bunch of nerds.

The problem is the material itself, with its trite observations and shockingly flat writing.

Given that the B-to-Z movies parodied in Cadavra were funny to begin with, it begs the question as to why writer-director-star Larry Blamire and company bothered. I think they’re not so much nostalgic for this type of movie as they are for the kind of laughter it provoked.

The premise of the film is serviceable, but the execution is flawed and entirely underwhelming.

Relatively harmless fun, although it does make you wish Ferrell would do more risky, rule-bending work like "Anchorman." Enough with the generic star vehicles man, write thee a screenplay again!

To be fair, Smokin' Aces isn't a complete train wreck. Carnahan stages a handful of strong action set-pieces, most notably a close-quarters elevator shoot-out involving Liotta and Flanagan, that are a blast to watch.

There's never any real danger in the movie, which makes The Expendables feel like one of those chummy Rat Pack flicks that were just excuses for a bunch of pals to get together and goof off.

Chan still sounds silly talkin' jive, the action sequences are peppy if not exactly memorable, and the gags have been sitting out long enough to make penicillin.

As bad movies go, The Jacket belongs to a relatively rare but extremely intriguing/irritating genus.

Director Sylvain White, whose last film was the equally unnecessary "I'll Always Know What You Did Last Summer," manages to take the joy out of a dance movie by jerking the camera around and speeding up the dance moves so much.

Short on story, character, and attempts to win viewers' emotional investment, the film only seems to take a breath when The Rock is making the baddies lose theirs.

For a horror movie to work, it has to be ABOUT something.

When the secret is finally divulged, it’s such a letdown that it feels unfairly manipulative to have sat through such agonizing tedium.

Bloated with too many pratfalls yet too little plot, and neutered of its most viciously hysterical moments.

There's a lot of "stuff" here, and Kelly's biggest problem -- he's got more than a few -- is that he can't tell his good material from his bad.

Movies in which the same person serves as writer, director, and star should carry a special warning for audiences, even if that individual happens to be an actor as endearing as Luke Wilson.

It's an empty-headed look at a national problem with modern surveillance society, but if everyone acted as stupidly as the incredulous screenplay would have you believe, then it's safe to say the movie inadvertently reflects, rather than critiques, the insanity of our times.

Time doesn't just slow down while you're watching Catch and Release -- it actually comes to a dead stop.

Jersey Girl may have come from his soul, but it contradicts the charm of a Kevin Smith movie.