If only one character in Stone reacted as someone in his position would to the preposterous situation at hand, the movie would be 15 minutes long.

Romantics of any age will probably succumb to Depp's deft portrayal, cinematographer John Schwartzman's fantastic vision and Berman's comic wordplay. [23 Apr 1993, p.5]

All that director Kenneth Branagh must do with Thor is not mess it up, and he succeeds. But that isn't enough. The results aren't as exhilarating as the first "Iron Man," but Downey can't play every superhero.

The harrowing scenes of Stahl's drug abuse and strung-out aftermaths are dulled by Stiller's quips, while the laughs stick in our throats because of sheer embarrassment for Stahl's character. By trying to have it both ways, Veloz does full service to neither. [09 Oct 1998, p.8]

Jordan makes performing in front of a camera look as easy as everything else he has attempted in his storied life except baseball. Bugs Bunny and the gang are old pros at that. There are some genuine surprises in the special effects expertise on display. [15 Nov 1996, p.3]

The two disparate stories never gel, and Keanu Reeves doesn't fully capture the dignity of a deity. [27 May 1994, p.8]

Powaqqatsi is a melange of images and music, so beautiful and mesmerizing that it's completely possible to overlook Reggio's message. [09 Jul 1988, p.1D]

Certainly this could've been a bolder, angrier movie than what it became. After so much grimness in movies about U.S. military actions in the Middle East, it's good finding one dedicated to the kind of humor getting a lot of folks through over there.

Bad Words isn't an entirely auspicious beginning to Bateman's career behind the camera, but a riotous performance suggests what a wonderful louse he can be.

Close's performance is technically perfect and emotionally pinched, which is exactly what her role calls for, but it doesn't make a compelling movie.

For the most part, however, Southpaw is a terrific boxing movie, with choreographed violence emphasizing the sport's speed rather than its poetry in slow motion.

Burton's manner is changed, not drastically or consistently but more controlled, making strangeness the story's accessory rather than its purpose. He seems inspired by this material for the first time in years, in a creative vein where he finds the most satisfaction.

I learned a total of two things from watching Evil Dead: No camping kit is complete without duct tape, and sometimes end credits are worth sitting through for a movie's best gag.

Director Wes Ball makes a solid feature film debut, without any noticeable video game envy to his action sequences.

It's as slick and fun as summertime entertainment should be. Downey is still an arresting presence, glib to the nth degree and supremely confident that he's smarter than anyone else.

The redneck rust bucket is on screen so much that 3-D glasses should come with tetanus shots.

It's the Topps style of filmmaking; like most baseball trading cards, Little Big League is flatly two-dimensional, distinctly lacking action and with little value, unless its engaging young star, Luke Edwards, turns out to have a brilliant career. [24 Jun 1994, p.9]

It's all art direction and no content. There's nothing for Morticia and Gomez to do. [22 Nov 1991, p.7]

First Knight isn't sparkling enough to be a legend, isn't grubby enough for realistic drama or bad enough to completely dismiss. Call it a near-myth. [07 Jul 1995, p.6]

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.

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]