Given the possibilities it's not particularly inventive, but it is nice to see a comedy so affectionate with the conventions it spoofs.

It's hardly original and rarely laugh-out-loud funny -- the filmmakers constantly fall back on the sight of bounding balloon Jimmy squeezing his way out of one situation after another.

Fascinates by its very premise: the fact that, on the basis of a Web site logo, these two bozos could so easily pass themselves off as important officials.

If Chadha never quite overcomes her cliches, her good-natured humor and familial faith gives it a warm, winsome dimension.

A slow-moving, unashamedly weepy, middle-age love story of the kind big-studio Hollywood doesn't often make anymore.

The star-crossed love story that takes up most of the movie-within-the-movie is strangely compelling, and Douglas gives a believable, often powerful performance as a man in the process of discovering the karmic ripple effect of a closed-off life.

Ultimately, the script lacks the ambiguity, irony and heartfelt emotion that would make the conversion of a dozen hardened criminals very credible, and -- despite its obvious good intentions -- the movie seems pat, simplistic and slightly phony.

Zellweger is a gifted comedienne and her wonky persona sparks here and there, but the humor is so broad that the film is a poor stage for her subtle comedic skills, and she's not photographed well: her face has to be lit just so or it tends to looks strangely distorted. McGregor is terrible casting.

The movie offers several moments in which Williams comes alive, but they're few and far between.

Surprisingly, the weak link is Dunst, who's previously been the delight of all her movies.

It finally just rings false as a human drama.

At its best, The Promotion offers a sympathetic view of ordinary people caught on the hamster wheel of corporate politics.

The movie's a little thin for the two-hour running time, but likable enough for its schoolgirl audience and painless enough for the adults doomed to be dragged along.

The Rock manages to play both with a crude candor more genuine than the entertaining if contrived spectacle around him, and a surprising big-screen charisma and ease that makes him a natural-born screen hero.

Director Jonathan Frakes keeps the tone just this side of tongue-in-cheek.

Well-meaning portrait of intolerance concludes as grand tragic melodrama, executed with a stately beauty in somber colors.

Full of compassion and good intentions, but Kirkman never spins the stories into compelling cinema.

It's a fine moral and an admirable statement, but it's the portrait of an icon rather than the story of the person thrust into that position.

This is Epps' showcase. He can't cover all the film's flaws, but he'll sure gab your ear off trying.

The bright spot is Seann William Scott ("Dude, Where's My Car?") as Bo Duke. His good-naturedly maniacal manner and early Dennis Quaid killer smile are endearing, to the point where he occasionally threatens to elevate the movie into something special.

It's a passionate vision thick with eroticism, but the musky atmosphere gets a little thick and murky.

Craig's got the stuff but the ending of this cake is soggy for its protagonist and audience.

Meanders as aimlessly as its drugged-out characters.

Garity, son of Jane Fonda and Tom Hayden, gives the kind of performance rarely seen in today's movies.

It's a methodical, friendly fairy tale in which everyone is good and the outcome is a given.

You've already seen this movie, right? Just a few months ago. It was called "The Score."

There are some nice ideas floating around this ambitious film, as well as attempts to say them in a unique way.

Under the lingerie model façade beats the heart of a celestial Dr. Phil.