Flipper is a nice movie, a safe movie for Saturday matinees, but it isn't very exciting or entertaining. [17 May 1996, p.5]

The Intern is a movie outmoded in style and strangely retro-sexist in spirit.

Pawn Sacrifice tells a fascinating story in unspectacular fashion, resulting in a draw.

The junk in Lucy doesn't entirely eclipse the moments when weird is fun.

A movie as slight as Fluke shouldn't be expected to draw gasps and cooing at the drop of a plot twist. [02 Jun 1995, p.9]

Once impressive, the special effects seem dated now. [15 Nov 1991, p.18]

At some juncture — much earlier than director Gareth Edwards intends — Godzilla needs to stop being an extra in his own movie.

It’s so respectful that vibrancy suffers. Coco is a bright pinata of a movie that breaks and nothing falls out.

I spent several minutes not caring what was happening with the story but just observing the patchwork illusion of oversized props, short stunt doubles and computer grafting of big faces on small bodies. Nice work.

The Great Wall is a so-so movie with eye-popping images.

Co-writer and director Barry Primus knows his characters well, but his scenarios are stilted and pretentious. So is Landisman's screenplay, which everyone wants to change.

Denzel Washington’s labored portrayal of a shambling legal savant named Roman J. Israel, Esq. is the least of the movie’s worries. This is a story of shifting ethics that should be dramatic, but shaky logic prevents that from happening.

The Power of One emerges as a broadly painted piece of rhetoric. It means well and has an undeniable dramatic pull, but its relegation of blacks to the sidelines and its creation of a white savior are unforgivable. [10 Apr 1992, p.10]

Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice was supposed to settle a fanboy debate older than Adam West. Instead it raises another: Is being a superhero really this much of a drag?

Simply put, Reeves doesn't seem bright enough to master all of the techno-blab he struggles to recite and pantomime in Andrew Davis' return to the thriller genre, Chain Reaction. [2 Aug 1996, p.3]

Rock the Kasbah isn't respectful of truth, or consistently funny in the way it lies.

Poor Thor. Dude can't even hold center stage in his own movie. He's the Asgardian god of stolen thunder, upstaged at each ab turn by Loki, malarkey and Odin's eyepatch.

Let's cut to the chariot chase. The latest screen version of Ben-Hur would be little more than a condensed miniseries without it, framed for small television screens, with performances to fit.

This Grudge Match is winners take all and losers bought tickets.

By all accounts, Boston mobster James "Whitey" Bulger was a monster. That's exactly how Johnny Depp plays him in Black Mass, a dark blob of underworld cliches and bad contact lenses.

Hook is so enormous, so cumbersome, that it resembles a complex machine inching its way across the resplendent three-moon Neverland landscape. It's a brilliant technical achievement, but it hasn't much of a soul. [11 Dec. 1991, p.3D]

Out to Sea is nothing more than a puffed-up Love Boat episode sailing on risque gags that wouldn't be amusing at all if they weren't recited by old folks. [02 July 1997, p.1D]

Reiner made another one of those stodgy courtroom pieces and forgot the first rule of a witness: Tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. [03 Jan 1997, p.5]

Problem is, the duo's roundball exploits are a strictly one-note grift, and Shelton gropes to give the movie some substance off the court. [27 Mar 1992, p.5]

Dekker's notion of pouring comedy and horror into the cinematic Cuisinart and leaning on the starter switch doesn't work here. [14 Aug 1987, p.D1]

Imagine a stuffy Merchant Ivory production blended with muted Michael Crichton sci-fi and you have Never Let Me Go, at least as it plays on screen.

Its logic is so simple, its emotion is so heartfelt, its editing and composition are so fluid, it seems to be a perfectly-crafted contemporary drama. Yet, in retrospect, it's a difficult movie to stomach. The problem with Brothers' script is that he and Yates paint characters with unbelievably broad strokes. [06 Oct 1989, p.12]

Egoyan's self-importance mars every frame of his film. [24 Mar 1995, p.9]

Estevez has said that Wisdom is at least partly a comment on American celebrity-worship. He focuses on the media blitz that surrounds the nationwide manhunt for John Wisdom and his girlfriend, but he is merely reworking tired cliches. Like the youngsters in the dum-dum 1985 film The Legend of Billie Jean, John Wisdom is a rebel without a cause. [3 Jan 1987, p.5B]

Shame smears the lines between daring and taunting, and art versus indulgence. When it ends there's the urge to take a shower, and not a cold one.

I deferred to the wisdom of Grouchy Smurf (George Lopez): "I didn't hate it as much as I expected to. But I still hated it."

Big Stone Gap isn't everyone's cup of sweet tea. It's a homespun tale populated by broadly drawn characters and solid actors — Whoopi Goldberg, Jane Krakowski, Anthony LaPaglia — sounding like they gulped hush puppy batter.

Slap together Meatballs and The Big Chill and you're left with Indian Summer, a movie that feels like cold leftovers from countless other feel-good ensemble comedies. [23 Apr 1993, p.9]

As a rollicking comedy, it isn't.

Comedy and narrative demand more rhythm than simply scamper, jabber, fall but that's what Minions bring to the table.

The Raven isn't nearly as much fun as it should be.

At times the screenplay by brothers David and Alex Pastor strikes the proper tone for claptrap.... Mostly, though, the dialogue thuds in circles.

Fifty Shades Darker is what you'd expect from encoring a regrettable one-night stand. Not a keeper, but nothing to gnaw off your arm about.

Give the Olympic ice skating fantasy The Cutting Edge a so-so score of 5.2 on technical merit and a low 4.6 for artistic interpretation. This Rocky romance movie is lovely to watch and difficult to swallow. [27 March 1992, p.8]

Life Happens still has the obligatory relationship cracks and repairs to wade through but it's finally tolerable.

Flat and polished is a fine condition for mirrors, not movies. There is imagination galore but no genuine magic in Mirror Mirror, a Grimmly disappointing take on Snow White's fairy tale.

Prelude to a Kiss lacked a sense of flow on stage; the problem is compounded on film. [10 Jul 1992, p.5]

It's a story told accurately, if not particularly well.

With these performances, Celtic Pride becomes nothing more than a three-corner comedy stall. [19 Apr 1996, p.9]

Operation Dumbo Drop has the lumbering pace of a pachyderm. [28 Jul 1995, p.8]

These are the rules: When watching The Bonfire of the Vanities, you don't think of Tom Wolfe. You think of Dr. Strangelove. Only then will you embrace what little there is to like in this sprawling, seemingly racist, absurdist-revisionist twist on The Bonfire of the Vanities. [21 Dec 1990, p.20]

The movie zings when Jenkins is snapping off venomous wisecracks, or O'Hara speaks politically incorrectly with only the best intentions. But those moments aren't enough to raise A.C.O.D. above the level of a failed pilot for a racy pay channel sitcom.

Like the live action Beauty and the Beast, its best impressions come from imitating the source, lifting visuals and dialogue to deja vu effect.

Dark, heavy and plodding, with imaginative sex and a strong sense of magnetism between its characters. [26 March 1988, p.1D]

As an actor, Meryl Streep is incapable of making false moves. That doesn't mean she's incapable of making false movies.

The problem isn't entirely Lehane's script... It's the way Belgian director Michael R. Roskam, making his English language debut, is so visually uninspired by all this meanness.

Punchline, a movie about the pain and sacrifices of being a comic, is a lot less pretty and less believeable than it should be. It's also a lot more manipulative.[7 Oct 1988, p.8]

Unstoppable isn't unwatchable, but it is a letdown after "Speed" and some of the Speed-on-a-(fill in the blank with a vehicle) flicks that followed. Forget missing Hopper; even Keanu Reeves might make this movie more entertaining.

Dream Team might strike some viewers as insensitive, particularly after the care that was accorded persons with psychological disorders in Rain Man. But crass fun is a major component in Dream Team's tasteless charm. In fact, what this movie needs is less taste and lower regard for standard plot formulas. [07 Apr 1989, p.6]

From its treacly theme song to its final, hackneyed image, Shirley Valentine misses the mark. The second half is considerably brighter than the opening sequences, but that is faint praise, indeed. [22 Sept 1989, p.7]

Tom Cruise may be an A-list action star, but the Jack Reacher films are beginning to feel like the B-movies of his career.

Extraordinary heroism deserves a less ordinary movie.

13 Hours is another flag-wrapped paean to true-life Alamo heroism in the vein of Lone Survivor, hoping for ticket sales like American Sniper. Neither of those movies carry the political burden of 13 Hours, and Bay isn't one to channel it.

Atomic Blonde is a rare case of a woman toplining an action flick, but it hardly feels revolutionary.

Bale operates in full brood throughout. Studi is a strong presence stymied by the movie’s misplaced priorities. Hostiles is another Western in which Indian characters are props for white man problems.

Although Throw Momma From the Train has its moments, it's largely a leaden affair. A trifle amusing, perhaps, but never worthy of the talents of DeVito and co-star Billy Crystal. [11 Dec 1987, p.7]

A contrived finish only serves to resolve the dangling threads of a story that ought to end with a huge laugh, not a self-conscious giggle. [7 Aug 1987, p.1D]

American Ultra is a clumsy mix of courtship and gunpowder, passion and horror leading to a romantically sick-humored conclusion. The end nearly justifies director Nima Nourizadeh's means of getting there. But not quite.

Yes, this is a great time for escapism at the movies. But there's a point at which escapism throws what we're trying to forget back in our faces.

Unlike Weekend at Bernie's, the sequel asks audiences to accept far too many outrageously unrealistic situations. The plot begs numerous questions, and weakly attempts to provide answers. [17 July 1993, p.7B]

Somewhere, Wes Craven is laughing up his sleeve, and Robert Englund is grinning. It's nice to know that you're irreplaceable.

This is a comedy never proceeding beyond its idea pitch and attractive casting.

The Shadow comes off as a gussied-up attempt to capitalize on the popularity of the recent Batman and Dick Tracy films, and unfortunately, it's closer to the latter. It should have stayed in the shadows. [01 Jul 1994, p.6B]

The movie veers between disapproval, farce and something uncomfortably close to envy, with a trio of game performances barely holding things together.

The movie is geared to preschoolers, so only parents dragged with them may complain. There's only that Looney Tunes overture to savor before the Acme production begins.

I seriously doubt that it happened this way, with such convenient strife and truncated solutions. The movie is about baseball but plays like T-ball, with each situation teed up for easy swings.

If you prefer hipster romantic comedies that are unromantic and not too funny, Lee Toland Krieger's movie may be your grande half-caf caramel mocha frappe.

The three young stars biding time in Tom Gormican's listless rom-com are too gifted for one mediocre movie to bury.

A comedy as lazy as Sandler's previous boondoggles.

I honestly thought Eclipse would be different, after "New Moon" showed stirrings of cinematic life.

One of Street Fighter's chief problems is that it is based on a game that is 100 percent hand-to-hand combat, yet that element is almost completely ignored until the film's final third - which, admittedly, is a huge improvement of what preceded. [24 Dec 1994, p.10C]

A terrible title for a not-much-better movie, missing a grammatically correct question mark and most of the point with romantic comedies.

The Host doesn't strive for social allegory, as previous body snatcher flicks have done with the Red Scare, civil rights and Watergate. If anything it's merely a teenage girl's fantasy checklist for prom.

Everything plays out brutally, and the acting's not bad. But it's unsettling for external reasons beyond its control.

Jobs the movie isn't as fascinating as Jobs the man, much less the myth of entrepreneurial superiority he left behind.

Sure, the plot is paper thin like most reboots, but CHiPs is less about the story and more about the special effects and stunt riding, which are jaw-dropping.

The movie's best performance — and worst defamation — belongs to Tony Shalhoub, playing the first victim as a conniving, egotistical jerk who deserves to be kidnapped, maimed and ruined financially.

Man on a Ledge makes bigger leaps of logic than Nick will if he fails a gravity test. If the transparent sting springing him from Sing Sing doesn't roll your eyes, then wait for the climax when Nick becomes a kind of plainclothes Spider-Man.

Veronica Mars, the movie, plays like a two-parter without commercials. Its uninspired framing and static action suits a TV screen better than a multiplex's.

As far as Sabrina goes...may she rest in peace for at least another 41 years. [15 Dec 1995, p.7]

With Herbert Ross' campy direction highlighting the most juvenile aspects of Ian Abrams' script, Blues seems to be targeting an audience that considers the Ernest movies highbrow; a PG-13 movie that treats viewers like 12-year-olds. [15 Sept 1993, p.6B]

Watching Spectre unfold, lumbering and slumbering, on the heels of a franchise high is a shock, so much talent coasting this time.

It's enough to make Kim Jong ill.

Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner makes a troublesome filmmaking debut, wasting a dream cast for a comedy in a fitful story of family tension, mental illness and corrosive self-absorption.

Rough Night wouldn't be fresh or funny no matter what gender it's written about or for.

With its flat acting and titillating format, The Lover is soft-core and mostly a bore. [14 May 1993, p.9]

George Clooney’s latest directing effort, Suburbicon, is a movie tipping off why it’s going wrong before it actually happens.

Director Stephen Herek (Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure) and screenwriter Steve Brill dreamed up these fantasies for their so-called comedy about youth hockey. They could have devoted more attention to writing decent jokes. This childish mix of slap shots and slapstick lumbers along as awkwardly as a skater on a melting ice rink. [02 Oct 1992, p.12]

The movie's glaring problem is the design and execution of Chappie, whose look is unremarkable except for a pair of polymer rabbit ears ready for meme posterity.

That epilogue suspiciously looks tacked-on by Warner Bros., who did the same thing with Roberts in The Pelican Brief when the climax was too downbeat. Just one more anti-climactic chance to see Roberts flash that halogen-bulb smile, even though it thoroughly contradicts what preceded it. It leaves a bad taste, and one realizes that it's the same old tainted salmon Hollywood has been serving for years. Somewhere, Thelma and Louise are gagging. [4 Aug 1995, p.8]

One can forgive the threadbare script and Edwards' pedestrian direction for those scenes when Benigni shakes, stutters and stumbles through the lovely French scenery. [30 Aug 1993, p.6B]

Turns out we were right to wonder. The first film based on The Hobbit was charming fun, the second pretty good, too. But The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies is a film too far, tedious and overlong and short on most of the elements that made the first two work.

Jackie Chan, master of martial arts comedy, wishes to be taken seriously as an actor. Seriously. The Foreigner is no place to start and a smart place to finish.