Why the bloodsucker and the wolf boy treat Bella as if she's the cat's meow is still a mystery.

Barney's Version has episodes instead of plot, outbursts instead of wit and alibis instead of growth.

There’s plenty of talk about sex — even from Brandy’s supportive mom (Connie Britton), who offers her lubricant — but not much nudity or consequence. In The To Do List, sex is just another dubious achievement to outgrow.

It's pure speculation on the filmmakers' part that Gaelic pagans were adorned with bones, blue mud and Mohawks, but the fire-dancing spectacle is a welcome respite from the beefcake of the journey scenes.

Moore's voice is weak and fuzzy, directed at a choir that should already know the words by heart.

Because he's the protagonist of the movie and played by the likable Matt Damon, we keep an open mind, but Promised Land is morally ambiguous to a fault.

Obviously a labor love, and its very existence in a godforsaken marketplace is a minor miracle.

Chartered to provide both sides of every debate, CNN has positioned itself as the middle ground for discussions of current events. But without a knowledgeable teacher (or filmmaker) to lead such discussions into new territory, they devolve into noisy bull sessions.

It's no classic, but Shrek Forever After is a pleasant reminder that every time a cash register rings, this ogre turns angelic.

It’s amusing fluff, but from an Oscar-winning dramatist, this return to comedy is a bit of a letdown.

Redford is an adequate director, and he keeps things moving at a moderate pace, passing up exits to more spectacular vistas or hotter issues.

If you’re a dog person, it will be impossible to resist the tale of Arthur and his knights of extreme sports.

The result is only half as hip as hoped. Yes, this Holmes is leaner and meaner, and Watson (Jude Law) is nearly his equal. But there’s still something fussy about the result, as if bobbies had broken up the party at 11:59.

By the time the meta-movie and cute-dog subplots collide in the desert, this high-concept vehicle has run out of gas. Movies about the filmmaking process may never get old, but self-referential hit men smell like yesterday's fish story.

SHAG has a good cast with a lot of interesting family connections, but unfortunately it doesn't have much of a script, and Zelda Barron's direction lacks zip. The result is a ''teen-age girls coming of age'' flick that is considerably less successful than ''Mystic Pizza,'' ''Dirty Dancing'' or ''My American Cousin,'' the three good little films that pretty much established this post-feminist genre. [25 July 1989, p.3D]

Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell do yeoman work on behalf of their late friend and, as usual, Gilliam's film is a feast for the eyes. But all the king's men can't corral the horses running roughshod over basics like plot and character.

Director Brad Furman (“The Lincoln Lawyer”) does a serviceable job of keeping the narrative elements in play but has trouble making us care.

If what you seek from a samurai film is the friction between communal duty and personal honor, join the orderly queue to see 13 Assassins. But if what you seek is action, spend the talky first hour at a sushi bar before barging into the theater for the bloody good finale.

A passable popcorn movie, but fans of the first film who expect lightning to strike twice are liable to get burned.

There's little that's new in the retelling, except mellowed musings on Environmentalism 2.0.

While the film does feel cobbled together out of spare parts of other superhero movies, and it’s almost instantly forgettable, Collet-Serra manages to hold it all together out of sheer force of will and an inherent sense of style. If there’s any superhero to write about with Black Adam, it’s him, and it’s a good thing to see he still has some lightning coming out of his fingers.

The movie is missing the zippy chases and lovable characters of Aardman studio's previous films ("Arthur Christmas," "Chicken Run").

Elles is provocative company, but it leaves us feeling hustled.

Surviving Progress reiterates arguments made in movies such as "An Inconvenient Truth" and "Inside Job," it marshals minds such as Jane Goodall and Stephen Hawking, and it utilizes artful imagery reminiscent of films such as "Koyaanisqatsi" and "Up the Yangtze."

If the world were really coming to an end, we'd spend it with Knightley and tell her tag-along friend that there's not enough food for a 50-year-old virgin.

It’s an odd viewing experience, to have the second half of a movie not necessarily redeem the bland first half but rather find its sea legs, leaning into the slippery silliness of a summer shark flick. With a blue drink in hand and movie theater air conditioning blasting like salty sea air, there are worse ways to spend an August afternoon.

About the only shocking thing about Personal Shopper is its perverse lack of thrills.

We're left with an impression of a vivacious pioneer; but warm shouldn't have to mean fuzzy.