Henry & June is a sumptuous film, more deeply shaded and richly appointed than Kaufman's The Unbearable Lightness of Being. While it fails to capture the lovers' emotional evolution, it does project their individual concerns. [05 Oct 1990, p.6]

The Secret of My Success is Ross's most engaging romantic comedy since California Suite. Interestingly, it uses some of the best elements of his less successful movies: the pictorial splendor of Pennies from Heaven, the fusion of music and image in Footloose, the unbridled comic delivery of Protocol, the sense of character from Max Dugan Returns. [10 Apr 1987, p.1D]

Frantic is an engrossing character study, but as a thriller it sometimes relies on cliches. For starters, the whole mess is triggered by a case of mixed-up suitcases. A drug shipment? No, worse: a device that could give some Arab bad guys nuclear weapons. Several action scenes are lifted from the Hitchcock style, but they don't capture the master's sense of suspense. Polanski weaves in moments of dark humor amid all the intrigue. [01 Mar 1988, p.1D]

Stallone and Russell don't bore. As verbal sparring partners, they provide plenty worth watching.

The Witches of Eastwick is a theme park without a theme. Like Nicholson and his co-stars, Miller doesn't have a lot on his mind. He just wants to have fun. His movie is organized mayhem, a strange and funny tour de force. [15 June 1987, p.1D]

The young Tianbai, Zheng Jian, is as demonic as a flesh-and-blood Michael Myers. Yet Ju Dou is grounded in the stark reality of turn-of-the-century China, where Confucian law has governed life for generations and where adultery is punishable by ostracism or death. [19 Jul 1991, p.7]

RoboCop 2 moves fast and looks great. How much you like it depends on your tolerance for machine-gun mayhem. [22 June 1990, p.6]

The Rover fascinates and frustrates in equal measure, with Michod withholding details of plot and character so thoroughly that a nihilistic fog sets in.

Kong: Skull Island strips the beauty from a legendary beast, reducing a classic movie star to soulless monster mechanics. Kong smashes, but not much else. Whoever dies doesn't matter. Whoever lives has a sequel promised by the end credits.

From the impure perspective of someone who hasn't read King's series, The Dark Tower isn't half-bad. Faint praise, but this movie will take all it can get.

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.

Director Patrick Hughes' instinct isn't to find dark humor in violence, only to graphically depict it. There's a sadistic edge to The Hitman's Bodyguard that's unbecoming to its comedy.

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

Russell remains one of our most adorable, underused actors, although this role lacks the emotional and comedic breadth of her turn in 2007's "Waitress."

White House Down is nearly enough fun to be a bad movie that's a good time. But it always finds some way of being a drag, belching exposition and weak humor when action's all we need, then carrying the action to exhausting lengths.

Cool Runnings is enormously unfaithful to its subject, piling on one sports cliche after another with shallow characterizations...Regardless of those faults, Cool Runnings has an agreeable goofiness to it that brushes aside any picky complaints. It isn't art, but it surely is disposable fun. [1 Oct 1993, p.6B]

Chastain plows through this tangled scenario with an icy ferocity that's entertaining. You get the feeling that Miss Sloane would work better as a streaming or cable series, allowing more time to explore characters and issues, giving actors more room for dense dialogue. Maybe come up with a better way out of that corner.

Winter's War isn't tedious. Amiably bad movies seldom are. Theron and Blunt look fabulous doing silly, screechy things in Colleen Atwood's costumes. Chastain makes Sara a formidable match in battle and bed with Eric, who becomes less important as these wonder women converge.

There's no disputing Streep's brilliance, which this time feels more calculated than usual, in a movie demanding only an impersonation.

Mostly it's hamstrung by an abundance of reverence and dialogue sounding like an art studies syllabus when it isn't rehashing war movie tropes.

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.

Sister Act 2's other saving grace comes from its positive messages of hard work and responsibility, and a thoughtful, though underwritten, subplot about a talented student (Lauryn Hill) and her strict mother (Sheryl Lee Ralph). [10 Dec 1993, p.7]

This is science fiction needing more work on the fiction part, an intriguing premise running its course halfway through. Passengers is too smart for starters to devolve into green screen spectacle relegating its attractive stars to unconvincing gapes.

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.

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

As wild as Medak wants it to be, Romeo is Bleeding isn't startling or - with the hellcat exception of Mona Demarkov - especially original. Even a fresh movie genre with an urgent title like New Violence can inspire some filmmakers to deliver the same old thing. [25 Feb 1994, p.6]

I expected, even wanted to cry at The Fault in Our Stars, or at least choke up a little. Yet the transparent eagerness of this movie to break hearts, through means not entirely justifying that end, always pulled me back.

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.