Last week, it was Ninja Turtles. This week, it's Ernest. And Ernest, quite frankly, is an improvement. It's more colorful, cartoonish, imaginative. And it feels like a movie, not just an advertising ploy. [07 Apr 1990, p.C5]

Happy anniversary, Little Women, but I think I prefer you back in the 19th century; dreamy professors aside.

In recent interviews, Van Damme has announced his intentions of acting, and he tries in Double Impact. It's a shame because he and his story - which he also co-wrote and co-produced - wind up being a little too tame. [10 Aug 1991, p.C3]

It is a singularly irritating semi-comedy, colorfully wrapped but with batteries definitely not included. [18 Dec 1992, p.28]

RoboCop 3 is junk food, but it's tasty none the less. [05 Nov 1993, p.D37]

Begun by screenwriter Mark Steven Johnson (Grumpy Old Men), Jack Frost ended up taking four credited writers to finish - and still it's a derivative mess. [11 Dec 1998]

A thriller that fails on every level, it doesn't even make you want to find out what happens next. [26 Apr 1991, p.20]

MTV veteran and first-time director Jim Yukich makes the most of the flashy if uneven visual effects, which usually have a state-of-the-art quality but occasionally look as phony as matte paintings in 1950s biblical epics. [04 Nov 1994, p.I39]

It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who already love it, it’ll be just right.

It's no more obnoxious than the original, and in several ways it's more interesting. [08 Apr 1995, p.C7]

Captain Ron feels like the work of people who've had too much exposure to equatorial sunshine, as if it were lazily shot between vacation dips in a blue lagoon. Comedically speaking, Captain Ron is a sinking ship. While Russell is passably amusing with a care-free, phoned-in performance, Short's character is an irritating killjoy, and the role rarely capitalizes on Short's considerable comedic skills. [18 Sep 1992, p.22]

The chief distinction of the picture, and what makes it more guilty pleasure than patience-tester, is Pakula's strong visual sense, which is reminiscent of his work on "The Parallax View." [16 Oct 1992, p.3]

What say we tiptoe quietly away and pretend this movie never happened?

An enjoyably nutty more-is-more family holiday extravaganza.

Though the messaging is a bit flat-footed, it’s nonetheless effective, and clearly deeply felt, and it brings a sense of significance to this otherwise wacky real-life story, one that really does have to be seen to be believed.

It all works quite well as glossy entertainment, but ultimately The Bodyguard satisfies only if you don't think about it too much. [25 Nov 1992, p.D3]

The only thing original in Dr. Giggles - about a psychotic doctor (Larry Drake) who escapes a mental institution to resume his belovedly departed father's explicitly unhealthy rampage of serial killings - is the freakish instruments that the pun-filled physician totes around in his bag of dirty tricks.

Although it is as harmless as its predecessor - and harmless should not be mistaken for a compliment - there is only one sad conclusion to be drawn from this kind of profiteering kiddie fodder: We owe our children better than this.

As an homage to Friedkin’s movie, Green’s take is respectful and genuinely scary. Let those tubular bells chime forth in celebration.

As a vehicle for Grammer, the movie seems a comfortable fit. But why bother with a big-screen part if it can't match what he's been doing for some time on Frasier? [01 Mar 1996, p.F3]

In between all of these delights is an awful lot of filler

If Brooks could have mustered up a screenplay half as good as “Broadcast News,” this movie would have been a delight; instead, it disappears into agreeable blandness and earnest platitudes. It’s not at all unpleasant spending two hours with Ella and her family and colleagues, but it leaves you feeling a little nostalgic for what it could have been.

"We're in Twin Peaks here," says the only surviving teenager in town. It's a lame attempt to create class by association. Unlike David Lynch's kinky series, the creators of Freddy's Dead couldn't care less about the movie's interchangeable characters. The actors are often hard to tell apart; some are just worse than others. [14 Sept 1991, p.C5]

Directors Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg (“Kon-Tiki”) seem to not have the slightest idea how to make this material sing; instead, it’s mostly a noisy, dark 3D blur in which the characters run around a lot, seemingly looking for the exits

The effort put into making this film work is palpable, but the result is something deeply surreal and strange. Perhaps this story simply can’t work as a film, or perhaps it wasn’t a very good musical to begin with. It’s a question that may be debated for years to come.

Inspiration, old-fashioned style, is the main course being served in Pelé: Birth of a Legend. In essence commissioned by the soccer icon, who is credited as one of the picture’s executive producers, “Pelé” is hagiography. But appealing hagiography.

So there’s not a single surprise along the way. But there is the comfort of familiarity operating in the movie’s favor. And it’s fun.

There’s exactly one good jump-scare, which probably would have caused me to drop my popcorn if I hadn’t finished it already; otherwise it’s fairly uninspired. But something about Quaid’s delivery had me giggling throughout — or, at least, until things got rather too dark in the final minutes.