Broomfield's film is typically self-aggrandizing but filled with unsettling moments.

The script is full of inconsistencies, and the humor is strictly of the New York nebbish school, but it's well worth checking out.

Dawson actually delivers the film's most persuasive performance.

But clichéd rapid-fire editing and cheap-looking digital-image manipulation drain away every ounce of atmosphere, and overexplanation blows what could have been a darkly ambiguous ending.

Though unpolished and formulaic, this tribute to the power of faith and music benefits from the contributions of musicians Tamyra Gray, a first-generation American Idol contestant who plays D.T.'s wholesome love interest; Grammy winner Kirk Franklin, who contributed six songs — three original — to the rousing soundtrack; and faith-based singers Yolanda Adams, Martha Munizzi, Fred Hammond (who also executive produced) and Delores Winans.

It's tremendously clever, but ultimately pointless.

What's most disappointing is the thoroughly cliched story.

The film is pleasant but too hackneyed and heavy-handed to work well.

Ultimately, the more intensely you buy into the notion that golf is a complex metaphor for the human condition, the more susceptible you'll be to the film's insipid blandishments.

Cassavetes' film is unusually well-acted and lovely to look at, but his wholehearted embrace of saccharine melodrama and tendency to let scenes ramble on long after their point has been expressed makes for some slow going.

As a piece of cinematic art, this meandering, shambolic film isn't much to speak of, but as a time capsule, it's priceless.

The weighty themes of loss, regret and abdication of personal responsibility are undermined by the reverential use of baseball as a symbol of mankind's potential for selfless greatness.

As Lord Peter Carrington, former mediator of the European Community, points out, a case can be made for all sides in this highly complicated civil war.

It's a testament to both the timelessness and the prescience of Herman Melville's 1853 story "Bartleby, the Scrivener" that it can be so easily updated with so few changes.

The cast is uniformly excellent -- Pryce in simultaneously utterly horrible and a real hoot as the wildly egomaniacal paterfamilias -- but the film itself is merely mildly charming.

Lawrence -- with the help of Oscar-winning makeup effects artist Greg Cannom ("Mrs. Doubtfire") -- has created yet another prosthetic screen wonder.

A combination of fresh twists, worn cliches, and frenetic camerawork, this film offers a premise that adults may not subscribe to--namely, that even Santa gets old, tired, forgetful, and in need of replacement. Still, the character with a heart of gold aims to entertain the young set and generally hits his targets.

A good story and some good effects, but it's a subject that could stand a better, more defined script and more attention to the issues involved.

Even with all its flaws, Johnny Dangerously has many genuinely funny moments, and if you're in the mood for silliness, you won't stop laughing.

The sight of Dracula climbing down a wall headfirst is the highlight of the entire movie; the rest of the film is just another plodding remake. The familiar story is given no new twists, save for an updated Edwardian setting and a few automobiles.

An enjoyable but mindless hour and a half of car wrecks that span several states.

Although Death Warrant resorts to several familiar plot devices, its storyline is a little more complex than those of most films of this genre. Moreover, secondary characters like Hawkins and Priest are believable and likable enough that we care what happens to them.

They’re baaaaack.

Pretty good as science fiction thrillers go, but sadly, there isn't much more to say about it.

A must-see for Beatles buffs and anyone interested in how the '60s looked as they were happening (rather than in slick, retrospective recreations); others might want to take a pass.

The film's few saving graces include Dickinson's sardonic southern belle; Winger's welcome return to the screen after a five-year absence; and Howard's voice-over readings of Brown's powerful prose, which ultimately saves the film from itself.

This is a really strange movie, and it contains so many outlandish, peculiar, grotesque, and incongruous moments that it becomes downright surreal.

The film looks great, but there's nothing under the high-gloss veneer.