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]