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

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

Multiplicity is a pleasant comedy, in the blandest sense of that adjective. It's what you call a billboard movie - a quick-pitch concept easily advertised with snappy star images, flat in its execution and merely a passing distraction to an audience. [17 July 1996, p.3D]

Lean on Me is the type of cloying, crowd-pleasing drama you can't help but like - a little bit - even if its situations are contrived and its direction is stilted.

Someone describes the T-800 as "nothing but a relic from a deleted timeline." Too harsh to lay on Schwarzenegger yet, but certainly it applies to the Terminator franchise.

Steven Spielberg’s The Post is a fake news movie, a true story told phony to further an agenda.

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword isn't a movie as much as a feature length montage of bastardized lore and rejected Game of Thrones pitches.

To paraphrase Joe Bob: Heads roll, arms roll, a face gets squashed like an overripe papaya, about 15 gallons of blood, several gratuitous shots of nekkid women, and plenty of beasts - including the Cryptkeeper, who bookends the flick with his usual pun-laden flair. Joe Bob might say check it out, then feel sorry he did. [13 Jan 1995, p.8C]

It's the little pleasures in mediocre movies that mean a lot.

Although it's based on true incidents, Mulholland Falls never seems grounded in any semblance of realism. It's a theme park stageshow gone horribly wrong, with spasms of ultra-violence that distract us from the so-called mystery at hand, but never help us ignore those darn hats. [26 Apr 1996, p.3]

What keeps Daddy's Home watchable is Wahlberg's checkmate machismo, as the intimidating foil necessary for Ferrell's namby-pambyism to register.

Cena handles rough stuff like a pro, and his poker-faced wisecracking isn't bad. But he probably shouldn't quit his day job.

Miraculously, Chances Are has some engaging moments despite its saccharine script and Emile Ardolino's (Dirty Dancing) sluggish direction. [10 March 1989, p.10]

State of Grace is smooth and persuasive but ultimately as senseless as the lives it shows. [05 Oct 1990, p.7]

Closed Circuit is a shaggy paranoid thriller in which conversations aren't the shorthand of people who know each other but wordy exposition for those strangers in theater seats.

Reynolds can't sustain the movie's pacing, nor can he blend the disparate elements of this sweeping epic. Yet, there are touches that make Robin Hood enormously entertaining. The battles with flaming arrows, catapults and a forest city of catwalks and tree houses under siege are masterfully recorded. [14 June 1991, p.6]

As if these weren't enough subplots to juggle, screenwriter McPherson revives the romance between boat captain Steve Guttenberg and Antarean Tawnee Welch. This sort of interspecies romance presumably violates Florida law and certainly counters any attempts at efficient storytelling. [23 Nov 1988, p.1D]

Disney always invites its artists to give a character tics that match the actor, but Warner Bros. didn't take that extra step toward quality. That's the difference between doing whatever it takes to get the job done properly, and simply doing as much as you can afford. [15 May 1998, p.3]

McKay's frustration about the financial crisis is obvious, his instinct of how to engage viewers less so. Buyer beware.

It only took one sequel for 3 Ninjas to learn what four mutant turtles discovered the third time around: The best way to liven a dull, repetitive premise is to take it on the road. [06 May 1994, p.6]

The Beaver plays like a thickly veiled confessional and plea for forgiveness. It's too creepy for comfort.

Malaise isn't Tom Hanks' thing, so A Hologram for the King with its death of an IT salesman vibe isn't a good fit. Hanks is far too indelible as a can-do personality to play why bother.

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]

No Man's Land takes the showroom approach. It doesn't get its hands dirty. It embellishes what you'd see if you stood in the waiting room of a Porsche dealership and peered into the service bay. A little more grease is in order. [23 Oct 1987, p.3D]

It Comes at Night lays down a heavy layer of dreadful promise and doesn't follow through. Edgerton's fine performance is overshadowed by a title and ad campaign springing a bait-and-switch scam on horror fans.

Kechiche's doting on entwined limbs, thrusting pelvises and oral stimulation, all carefully posed and continued longer than necessary to get his point across, races beyond titillation to creepy voyeurism.

It waffles. In the end, it emerges a distinctly pro-soldier, possibly anti-war movie that supports America's overseas doctrine, whether it be right or wrong. One shudders to think what they might create if asked to portray the United States' current role in Central America. Their film certainly wouldn't dare make a statement, bother to educate or entertain. And most importantly, it wouldn't take sides. [29 Aug 1987, p.1D]

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.