Only a spunky cast prevents the film from being as tedious as a test pattern.

Wind only hits full stride during the racing sequences, filmed with stunning authenticity by cinematographer John Toll. This movie should be a shoo-in for an Oscar nomination for Toll's work. But there hasn't been such a threadbare film so dependent upon its camera work since Days of Heaven. [11 Sep 1992, p.10]

The funniest comedy of degeneracy since "Bad Santa," and a career-changer for Aniston and Farrell if they'll only keep following their perverted muses. Horrible Bosses spins hostile work environments into a movie surpassing "9 to 5" and "Office Space" as the touchstone flick for disenchanted drones.

Not Without My Daughter is so patriotic that it plays like propaganda from the U.S. Defense Department. [11 Jan 1991, p.7]

War Dogs is cocked with an irreverent pedigree and loaded with the genius teaming of Jonah Hill and Miles Teller as high rolling gun runners making up everything as they go. It's a splendid mismatch, physically and tempermentally, folded into a screenplay that's only occasionally as razored as it might be.

It's easy to see why neither Home Depot nor Lowe's chose to go the product placement route. Too many cleanups in the power tool department.

Moving away from the gag-based comedy of his films with Chong, Marin has discovered a richer humor of character and circumstance, and although old habits surface long enough to permit unfortunate lapses in continuity and consistency, he proves surprisingly adept at his new mode. [24 Aug 1987, p.1D]

A half-baked FBI drama in the 48 HRS.-Lethal Weapon buddy-buddy mode. [12 Feb 1988, p.7]

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]

One of the best screen encores since Hollywood started depending on sequels to break even. It accomplishes what audiences should demand from a follow-up; familiar characters with a new slant to their exploits that makes us view them differently from before. Nostalgia isn't what it used to be around the Brady household, and we'll thank Sanford for that as soon as we finish snickering. [23 Aug 1996, p.5]

Director/chief screenwriter Philip Kaufman used the same kid-glove treatment in his adaptation of Michael Crichton's controversial bestseller, but Rising Sun has enough mystique and chemistry among its stars to be worthwhile adult entertainment. [30 July 1993, p.6]

It takes too long for The Commuter to build a head of steam but it’s medium speed ahead after that.

Pierce Brosnan is dashing and deadly, finally meeting the gold standard. And director Lee Tamahori detours from convention, taking the franchise up a notch in Die Another Day.

The movie seldom bridges the gap between education and entertainment, a trait that made "March of the Penguins" a must-see multiplex experience.

Underwood's film doesn't have a fraction of the insight or genuine comedy of City Slickers and it's a few years too late to be fresh material. Overall, Heart and Souls is an odd title for a movie that has a distinct, depressing lack of both qualities. [13 Aug 1993]

Ironweed doesn't work despite the stellar performances of Nicholson as former baseball pro Francis Phelan and Meryl Streep as his pal, Helen Archer, the former musician whose booze-ravaged voice still bears the air of cultivation. [12 Feb 1988, p.5]

The Glass Castle meanders toward its uplift ending, needing a few more of Cretton's clever time-jump edits, less rehashing the same personal failures. Not a bad movie at all, at times something more but seldom what it could be.

Just like Will Stoneman himself, it crosses the finish line battered and wobbly, but a winner nonetheless. [14 Jan 1994, p.7]

Like a struggling sprinter, Stephen Hopkins' film suffers from wasted motion, too much going on. It's the difference between a merely competent movie and one justifying more discussion of Hollywood's commitment to reward diversity.

This tender tale of two sisters coping with their free-spirited mother in innocent 1963 is just too cute. It needs some chinks in its gossamer-glazed armor. [14 Dec 1990, p.12]

In spite of its incessant piling on of double-crosses and triple dog dares, Focus is a pleasant change from Academy Award seriousness. It's reassuring to see Smith resurrect the charisma that After Earth stripped away, and nice to see Robbie do anything, anytime.

Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky is an elegant scandal almost devoid of true passion, no matter how many times the nude lovers artfully mingle.

The Fate of the Furious doesn't merely suspend disbelief, it expels it like a delinquent student told to never come back.

Non-Stop mostly works by being aware of what other jet-in-jeopardy flicks have done before, adding a spin here and there. Nothing Hitchcockian but more ambitious than a Neeson action flick needs to be.

It's occasional fun, but that's about all, folks.

Curled up at home with the lights off and DVD player running, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark might be passable fun. Spread over a movie screen, the film's modest ambition gets dwarfed by expectations, especially after paying for a ticket.

Date Night is really just another example of what happens when funny sitcom stars are lumped together in a movie, believing that laughter exponentially increases with screen size.

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

The plot, dealing with aliens infiltrating our world, still made as much sense as it possibly could, and the special effects guys really don't go to work until the last two reels. [31 May 1996, p.8]

An unwholesome but entertaining blend of Grand Guignol and High Tech. Hellraiser is ghastly fun, for the most part, but it is unconscionably silly. [21 Sep 1987, p.1D]

Stylish to a fault and straying from the source, Guy Ritchie's The Man From U.N.C.L.E. revives a 1960s television hit for the short attention spans of today's youth-skewing movie audience.

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

Real Steel is sci-fi without the science, and the fiction is strictly 20th century, straight out of Rocky knockoffs.

It's a pleasing tribute to Steadman, but there's a sense that Paul would really prefer to focus on Thompson's brand of altered-state brilliance, which has been covered in documentaries before. If you're a gonzo completist, For No Good Reason is a must-see.

Unknown is finely tuned pulp filmmaking, a dumb movie with a smart veneer, which is nothing to sneeze at.

Thompson's fans will embrace its twisted verbal dexterity, romantically imagining the author feverishly pulling strings from the beyond.

Caton-Jones' North Sea sensibilities seem askew for Doc Hollywood. He's operating from movie memories, and movies rarely have been kind to Southerners. With Doc Hollywood, which already is exaggerated, he overplays its hand. [02 Aug 1991, p.19]

Hereafter doesn't feel like a Clint Eastwood film; it's more like a very special edition of John Edward's psychic TV show.

Death Becomes Her is a comedy so dark and disjointed that not even some terrific makeup effects can cover its blemishes. [31 July 1992, p.5]

Maleficent feels spit-balled into more directions than barely 90 minutes of story time can adequately cover. It's once upon a time, happily ever after and a lot of undeveloped drama in between.

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]

Safe is the operative word here, since One Fine Day wouldn't think of messing with its casting chemistry to take any comedic risks. Clooney is as benign here as he was dangerous in From Dusk Til Dawn. Somewhere in the middle, I bet he'll make a terrific Batman next summer. [20 Dec 1996, p.10]

My Girl isn't a must-see, it isn't as lyrical or as deeply moving as it should be, but it is a rare family film. It addresses serious subjects with honesty and earnestness. And it has a heroine worth crying for. [29 Nov 1991, p.5]

Steve Carell's character in Dinner for Schmucks is almost too pitiful for the jokes launched against him to be funny. It is a terrific performance making everyone else's condescension sound harsher than the writers likely intended.

Is Carrey funny? Of course, because Stiller and the script allow him to be funny, at the expense of tension. [14 June 1996, p.3]

While Alive is a superb ensemble piece with a half dozen other notable performances, its strength lies with its spirituality. [15 Jan 1993, p.8]

2 Days in the Valley is a neatly folded piece of cinematic quirk.

Endings have never been Russell's strong suit. This time the beginning also eluded him, and the middle fell into his lap. Joy leaves a feeling of panicked disappointment, as if phone lines are open and nobody's calling.

The Farrellys affectionately structure their movie to resemble the Stooges' one-reelers from the 1930s, while the modern setting shows how timeless their rapid-fire puns, insults and pratfalls truly are. Silliness never goes out of style.

While there is an undeniable beauty in the film's images and a measure of energy from the exotic perfume of the people and places, Black Rain is in the end a cop movie, with a particularly pedestrian story to boot. [22 Sep 1989, p.6]

Concussion is essentially Erin Brockovich with shoulder pads, a crowd pleaser built upon an issue long ignored.

Jude Law's ferociously vulgar portrayal of a hard-luck safecracker carries the first hour of this amorality tale. Then writer-director Richard Shepard makes the creatively fatal mistake of making Dom Hemingway sympathetic, when irredeemable is much more fun.

Love Affair is a second honeymoon disguised as a movie project. [21 Oct 1994, p.7]

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.

A suggestion: Mr. Pyle should stop writing screenplays Pacific Heights is more tedious than a lease's fine print and tour the country lecturing on the dangers of landlording. [28 Sept 1990, p.6]

The performances are constantly spot-on, especially Scott during a wonderfully written rant during a group vacation.

Man of Steel is more than just Avengers-sized escapism; it's an artistic introduction to a movie superhero we only thought we knew.

The Mission, grand prize winner at the 1986 Cannes Film Festival, recognizes the bounds of the picture experience and strives to stretch beyond. [16 Jan 1987, p.1D]

Save the money you might spend for a ticket to see For a Good Time, Call... and just read a dive bar's restroom wall for free. That's the sub-level of comedy here, with a litany of crude sexual euphemisms and phallic images passed off as jokes.

Yes, The Eagle is as bad as it sounds but also entertaining, in a "Mystery Science Theater 3000" sort of way that Macdonald didn't intend.

Cloud Atlas, surely the most incoherent waste of time and money on screen this year.

A movie as fun as it is flawed.

The movie finds its humor in the royals' shock at Hyde Park's lacking decorum, and a hint of FDR's political savvy.

Dark Shadows manages in two hours what the TV show took six years to do: become irrelevant and remembered only for how sloppy it was.

It's a crudely populist movie designed to rouse the rabble, to loudly remind us greed isn't good. Viewers seeking another "The Big Short" will leave shortchanged.

Evidently, Schrader didn't believe strongly in his own screenplay, and that lack of faith proves fatal. [06 Feb 1987, p.1D]

The Kids in the Hall might be impossible to like if they didn't pursue their constitutional right to offend with such whimsy and joy. Even in their darkest moments, the comedy doesn't seem mean-spirited, and there is a righteous undercurrent that hints the guys care about their targets more than one might think. [19 Apr 1996, p.3]

2 Guns is a movie based on smart callbacks and sly flip-flops of loyalty, regularly interrupted by spasms of well-staged violence.

Director Rupert Wyatt (Rise of the Planet of the Apes) doesn't match the feverish nature of Karel Reisz's original, and the gambling sequences convey the sameness of a habit but not as much tension to it.

Although The Croods has lazy patches throughout, the conclusion is exciting and, lo and behold, surprising.

Until it lapses into a Rube Goldberg farce with a tacked-on, present-day epilogue, the movie is a wonderful reminder of why we've tried so hard to get major league baseball in Tampa Bay. [7 Apr 1993, p.5B]

Robert Altman's tantalizing, multicharacter style is considerably dumbed down in Willard Carroll's imitative Playing by Heart. [22 Jan 1999, p.3]

Scott retains his sense of mood and tension. Despite the script's predictable and flawed nature, he elevates Someone To Watch Over Me to the point that it emerges as a surprisingly satisfying piece of filmed entertainment. [9 Oct 1987, p.3D]

Paramount prefers to think of Star Trek: Generations as the first of a new film series, rather than the seventh act of the old, but prior knowledge of the saga definitely is a necessity. It's a movie filled with punchlines that depend on the audience knowing the set-ups. [18 Nov. 1994, p.3]

Redford proves that at 75 he can still choose meaningful projects and deliver them with intelligence.

Everything was awesome in 2014's The Lego Movie, a high-wire risk paying off with a new look in computer animation based on Lego's interlocking design. The Lego Ninjago Movie hasn't abandoned that uniqueness but certainly reins it in.

There are strange, midnight movie pleasures found in Smith's movie.

A memorable doomsday drama. [28 Sep 2000, p.13W]

The two women seem genuinely comfortable with each other, and it shows in their unselfishness and timing in a film that moves from verbal humor to slapstick. [30 Jan 1987, p.4D]

Black's performance is the key to making The D-Train more than just another sophomoric bromance. The wild-eyed mania is still evident, but channeled through a filter of pity.

Except for slipping on a third-act soapbox, The Joneses is a deft allegory of the greed and coveting that led to the recession. At times, you wonder if something like this scam could really happen, or does.

A drab dream with squirmy-cuddly aliens, floating space bubbles and too many Rihanna musical interludes.

The 33 has a disappointing lack of depth for a movie about being trapped 2,400 feet below.

As a purely sensory experience at the movies you're hard-pressed to find anything more dazzling than the first 90 minutes of The Great Gatsby, when Luhrmann's riotous amusements make anything possible.

The Package has its shortcomings - notably its disjointed beginning and some implausible miscalculations by the conspirators toward the end - but it generally hums at a healthy clip with twinges of Big Brother paranoia. [25 Aug 1989, p.12]

It feels like a rush job, needing another draft or two for cohesion's sake, or for Allen to decide what sort of story he's telling.

The rest are hit-and-miss propositions with occasional flashes of wit, and a few standout performances. It's always good to see Judy Davis exchanging barbs with Allen, like when he boasts of having an IQ of 160.

Espinosa overcomes any shortcomings in originality and logic with one of the most satisfying finales in recent memory. First impressions are important but a clever last impression makes Life worthwhile.

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.

The movie has its heart and humor in the right place, and there's no "Shame" in that.

Eastwood's unvarnished storytelling style, usually his strength as a filmmaker, is terribly out of place here. If ever a movie needed flashbacks, dream sequences, any attempt no matter how cliche to goose the narrative, it's this one.

Like The Flintstones and The Beverly Hillbillies before it, The Brady Bunch Movie is an amusing facsimile of a pop culture archetype. If only the script had been given such attention to detail. [17 Feb 1995, p.3]

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

Mike Myers' first film excursion beyond Wayne's World feels like one of those boring, aimless Saturday Night Live sketches that typically ruin the final 10 minutes of each show. So I Married an Axe Murderer is a mess, from its cliched mistaken-identity premise to one-liners that sound "borrowed" from other comedians or school-yard jive sessions. Above all, this tedious comedy proves that, as a movie star, Myers should never be let out of that basement in Aurora, Ill., that he shares with Dana Carvey. [30 July 1993, p.11]

Sparkle may wind up as Ejogo's breakthrough but will forever be remembered as Houston's swan song, and a glimpse of what her next life chapter might have been. What a talent. What a waste.

Arau's style is an aphrodisiac at 24 frames per second. [11 Aug 1995, p.2B]

Extraordinary heroism deserves a less ordinary movie.

Gardens of Stone is not a great picture. But it is a good one, made by a visionary director who strives to address film as literature. This is an absorbing companion piece to Coppola's Apocalypse Now, which treats the war in allegorical terms. [12 May 1987, p.1D]