The Ref, not just about a premise but about people, is the rare good comedy that actually gets better as it goes along. [11 Mar 1994, p.C1]

As a sports drama -- a genre that's gotten entirely too much play lately -- "Dreamer" is singularly unexciting.

True to the loose, funky spirit of the artists and their work.

Lawrence's take on pop music success is exactly right, satiric without being absurdist, and therefore a prize worth the effort.

There’s no one to root for, not even the dead girl. Nothing seems important enough.

The film is undeniably energetic, with a lot of good lines written by Shores, but it descends into obvious preachiness, and from this view, the unrelenting wackiness becomes overwhelming. Still, good times are had by all.

“Stories of Surrender” makes no pretense of telling the full Bono story. But it picks its spots with artful precision and with keen cinematic instincts.

Thanks to the three strong performances at its heart — especially that of a wisecracking Samuel L. Jackson (who’s also one of the producers) — The Banker often is as entertaining as it is enlightening. It’s “Hidden Figures” with redlining instead of rocket fuel.

The real problem with This Is 40 is its lack of truth, that Apatow wanted to express something about married life, and it eluded him. After all, no less than Kierkegaard once said that the actual dynamics of marriage are beyond the scope of art, and he was the best movie critic of the 19th century.

Everything that’s good about Cruella can’t obscure the fact that it was a very bad idea. The movie makes gestures toward style. It has first-rate costume design. The soundtrack contains a series of well-loved but mostly irrelevant pop songs from the 1960s and ’70s. But we still end up with a movie that should never have been made.

Underlying the story is sadness, a sense of mystery and a quality of pain. Enjoy the movie for its surface pleasures, but when it's over, it's those subterranean qualities that will keep it lingering in the mind.

Would have been a stronger movie if it didn't require a strong cup of coffee going in.

There's no hiding a hokey love story that undercuts the picture's compelling tennis scenes.

It takes about half the movie, but gradually we realize that we’ve stumbled into something wonderful, that there’s magic happening here, both onscreen and within the lives of the characters.

Family entertainment at its best.

A look at lives and hopes that are part of our American culture.

The film's emotional complexities don't allow for much of the canned sentiment that normally gets dished out in romantic dramas; what emerges instead, over several reels, is endearingly tender and complicated.

By taking the “dark” out of the dark comedy, “The Roses” can’t decide what it wants to be, and becomes as flimsy as its setting: Mendocino is played by a seaside town in Devon, United Kingdom, and it looks more like New England than Northern California.

A wildly entertaining fantasy thriller that propels Russian cinema into the 21st century.

It’s billed as another horror comedy, but when tidbits of humor manifest, it feels forced. There are few notable moments.

A very funny French comedy of a variety that usually doesn't make its way here.

There is a sweet romantic comedy action that sometimes emerges in this bone crunching, bloody spectacle, but only occasionally does it surface.

A film so rich and pleasurable you’d be forgiven if you thought about it each time you have a glass of red.

An intriguing document, and the first significant film ever made about a former U.S. president.

The dreaded question with a film like this is, “Wouldn’t a documentary have been better?” In this case, there’s a double answer. The first half of The Glorias is better told as a drama, because it’s fascinating to see (and not just be told) the obstacles in front of Steinem and how she overcame them. But the second half would have been better as a documentary.

It could have been something special, but two things drag it down to mediocrity -- director Clare Peploe's misunderstanding of Marivaux's rhythms, and Mira Sorvino's limitations as a classical actress.

Intrusive, excessively brooding and narcissistic.

Doesn't quite overcome its shameless self-promotion, but the film will satisfy the Lynyrd Skynyrd set while providing a decent explanation to those who are baffled by the sport's popularity.