The story, which retains an element of corny appeal, is hamstrung by a too-long running length that tries the viewer’s patience.

The movie’s narrative twists are neither surprising nor interesting and the emotional weight of the story and characters is feather-light. It is, however, engaging in a disposable fashion, offering occasionally entertaining instances (such as the aforementioned Tarantino homage) and an animation style that seems less plastic than many of today’s generic offerings.

By incorporating a strong Jamaican flavor and infusing the mix with reggae and dance, Elba provides something more interesting than the standard tale of gang warfare and drug deals that forms Yardie’s skeleton. However, although these unique elements form an effective distraction, their ability to captivate wears thin, exposing the threadbare, overfamiliar story that struggles mightily to keep viewers engaged.

Armageddon is a testosterone and adrenaline cocktail, with almost no intelligence added for flavoring.

Heaven's tone is all wrong. The movie tries to be ethereal, but ends up seeming goofy.

Somewhere buried in the structurally unsound and unevenly paced Red Joan, there exists the material for not only one but two intriguing motion pictures. Unfortunately, neither manages to struggle to the surface and we’re left with a mediocre mash-up of an old-fashioned spy movie and the story of a son coping with the sins of his mother.

Mockingjay Part 1, released a year ago, was a disjointed, incomplete affair and, although Mockingjay Part 2 is more polished, the pace is uneven and there’s a sense that the series has hung around too long.

Predictable this isn't, but that can be seen as both an asset and a detriment.

Blue Bayou channels plenty of anger and passion and the narrative lynchpin is sufficiently compelling (despite a tendency toward melodramatic manipulation) but Chon’s capabilities as a writer don’t match those as a director and an actor.

In fact, there are times when this movie feels like the latest installment in the over-milked Home Alone saga.

What's sad is that Elizabethtown contains two GREAT sequences.

The interaction between the three teenagers is well executed and plausible, despite the almost complete lack of a back story for any of them.

The film’s biggest problem is its uneven pacing.

A few months from now, no one will remember it, but Homefront isn't made for the long-haul. It's assembled simply for the 100 minutes when the viewer is in theater and, on a certain level, that's sufficient.

Attempts at wit and humor seem half-hearted at best. Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy isn’t a terrible movie; it’s mediocre at worst. But it never should have been made.

This is another movie where politics trump the narrative.

Bad Times at the El Royale has problems beyond its inability to stick the ending but that’s the one that ultimately sinks it.

It's a sincere-yet-uninspired diversion, and not even two strong performances can elevate it to a higher level.

It's openly silly and, by almost every traditional critical standard, it falls a little short of the mark. Nevertheless, I enjoyed Bride of Chucky enough to place it on my ever-growing list of "guilty pleasures," and I recommend it to those who enjoy horror films (although probably not to anyone else). The movie laughs at itself, and I laughed along with it.

Cronos is more concerned with ideas and atmosphere than people.

It's not the best of modern fairy tales but it's sincere and Christina Ricci's earnest and vulnerable performance touches the heart. Penelope is flawed but not irredeemably so.

Carnage suffers from a common problem that afflicts many stage-to-screen adaptations: too much artifice and contrivance.

“Dumbing down” was coined for productions like this: big, splashy, testosterone-fueled monstrosities whose sole purpose is to give a studio box office bragging rights for a few weeks.

The chief problem with Seberg, as is often the case with biopics, is that the filmmakers never really find the character underlying the historical figure.

In all fairness to the film, it is superior to the disappointing second movie in the series. The comedy is about as low-brow as it can get (at least without treading into R-rated territory).

There's nothing terribly wrong with Baby Mama but it's probably better suited for viewing on television, where many of the participants cut their teeth. This is small screen stuff masquerading as something bigger.

H20 is the second-best entry into the series, and, although it's nowhere close to the level established by Carpenter's classic, it avoids the excesses that ruin many would-be horror movies.

For the movie’s first half, director Neil Jordan does a reasonably good job of it. Then, unfortunately, he falls victim to the most dreaded of horror movie clichés: supposedly smart characters doing irredeemably dumb things.