The movie's soap opera quality undermines its efforts to tell a family saga with much believability.

The movie shoots for the moon with an intriguing dual-role conceit but wildly misses the mark. Hackneyed dialogue, a thin and silly plot fumbling the ambition of the concept, and a mixed bag of visual effects all leave this one just for the Smith completists.

By its conclusion the story has worked so hard to be twisting and clever that it runs out of steam and becomes outlandish, marked by a surplus of violence — too often casual and gratuitous — for what essentially is a buddy cop movie.

It's an odd blend - a sentimental story in a futuristic world of brutal machine-maneuvered fights. There are some ringside thrills, but it's not a seamless mesh.

The movie feels more like a slightly longer episode of Disney's old "Winnie the Pooh" television series.

No abomination but forgettably mediocre. [19 March 1999, Life, p. 13E]

America loves dysfunctional families, but haven't we seen enough middle-aged losers who haven't grown up?

There's evidence of his talent in some lyrical flying scenes, but the movie is so addled you'd think it was conceived by Michael J. Pollard, who shares a one-on-one scene with Lewis here (the mind boggles). [24 March 1995, p.3D]

The movie is an undeniable visual spectacle, but just as unequivocally a cheesy, ridiculous story.

Legend of the Sword’s overemphasis on the supernatural and the visually spectacular mortally wounds an often-rollicking adventure.

It's still the same sick story. Even the small touches seem stale.

In this second round of so-so kung-foolery, three brothers once again strain credibility and make sushi out of new foes. [06 May 1994, p.5D]

One-dimensional characters play second fiddle to the main event. Given the large cast of faceless players, it's hard to care when a few get sucked into oblivion.

Rather than being clever like the original movie, a horror-tinged sci-fi satire/parental cautionary tale, sequel "M3GAN 2.0" is the type of combo goofy comedy/undercooked action flick that would earn an epic sick burn from M3GAN herself.

The huge contingent of girls -- and women with girlish fantasies -- who liked the first two movies will doubtless enjoy Eclipse. But this third go-round won't make Twihard converts of the rest of us.

The "nonsequel" that regathers the inspired loonies who scaled the heights of giddy anarchy in 1988's "A Fish Called Wanda," is a different comic species. [24 January 1997, p. 3D]

Though occasionally visually inventive, Kung Fu Panda is a disappointment when it comes to matters of simple black and white: the script.

Unpleasantness alone doesn't sink a movie. But miserable tidings intensify when there's not only a high ick factor but also floundering storytelling.

The new edition is comparatively an air ball: It’s less a family-friendly film with a hoops legend and more a crassly referential love letter to all things Warner Bros.

This 140-minute I-don't-know-what-it-is unravels like a ball of yarn after a bout with a tiger on Colombian catnip. Lee exhaust me.

Slogs pokily along and never quite picks up speed.

Bridges actually does a fine job in an uninteresting role. But this chick flick is all about the attitudinal teenagers.

You can't help but have high expectations from Zaillian and this stellar cast. But the result this time is a thuddingly tedious soap opera.

An ambitious and occasionally illuminating hybrid documentary. But a cacophony of sights and sounds and a disjointed narrative dilute the message.

This just in: Morning Glory can't decide whether to skewer the morning news or wallow in its pap.

It's hard to know just who the intended audience is: The movie is too surreal and bawdy for young kids and too silly for anyone older than 25.

What might have been an entertaining, silly comedy opts for pseudo-earnestness over movie magic.

Though not much of a movie, Loaded probably will bring fleeting satisfaction to audiences who don't know Dean Jones from Spike Jones.

A 2 1/2-hour movie with halves that don't quite mesh, it still gives Al Pacino a role that's a perfect fit. [23 Dec 1992 Pg. 01.D]

This insipid wannabe frightener features a checklist of derivative conventions.

You’ve heard of an October surprise. This is a November disappointment.

Bug won't get under your skin as much as it will assault you with its ghastly claustrophobic drama and over-the-top performances.

Often ponderous, sometimes pretentious and mostly clichéd, this contrived meditation on longing and loss feels like a missed opportunity.

Becomes a little more compelling as it progresses because Lisa Kudrow (as the straight-arrow first Mrs. Holmes, who halfway stood with him despite her disgust) ends up being surprisingly well cast. She engages in some very un-Friends-like fiery exchanges that also give Kilmer his best scenes.

An OK mood piece but story-hungry murder mystery that flubs its whodunit fundamentals.

The action starts with a bang, but deteriorates and grows more absurd as the story strays farther from the LAPD call center.

On the whole, Argylle just isn’t as exciting or refreshing as what Vaughn did with his stellar “Kingsman: The Secret Service."

This joyless coming-of-age travelogue is such a downer that not even breathtaking locales can provide a lift.

The movie, full of wan gags and tedious situations, is directed blandly by Rock.

If a pointless and nasty Hollywood satire filled with vile characters and no one to root for sounds like a good time, go see Maps to the Stars.

Well-intentioned even as it surrenders to commercialism, G.I. Jane comes on like the ultimate battle of the sexes. But it ends up being an unfulfilling exercise in pseudo-feminism. [22 August 1997, p. 7D]

More than anything, the movie makes the viewer want to hop on a plane and visit Iceland.

Never reaches much beyond the surface, and what lies there is all too predictable.

Although delayed several months for fine-tuning, Freejack hijacks any potential cult status with drab visuals and a lousy score. Even Jagger fans aren't going to get much satisfaction out of that. [20 Jan 1992, p.4D]

You've never seen a movie like Sucker Punch. And depending on your entertainment preferences, you may not want to.

All the obvious elements combine to manipulate the audience into a weepy time at the movies -- again.

Dramatically, even a persuasive supporting cast gets Heaven only so far.

A picture that isn't as terrible as its title suggests now as deep as its story aspires to be.

Winnie Mandela is a simplistic look at a complex figure.

Heckerling stoops to the obvious at times and there are two car chases too many. But Look Who's Talking never insults the intelligence of adults or babies, and that's quite a feat for any comedy. [13 Oct 1989, p.4D]

The best that can be said about the film is that its naturalistic look and dark hues are occasionally intriguing, and its twist is fairly unpredictable, if far-fetched.

The film's only bright notes are Fred Gwynne's flavorful performance as a bucolic neighbor, his Herman Munster basso in full throttle, and the lovely Maine settings. If Pet Sematary could have boasted more authentic details in telling its devastating story, it might have been a classic instead of just another pet peeve. [25 Apr 1989, p.9D]

At least this movie seems more aware of its trashiness than "National Treasure" was. It's therefore freer to have some off-the-cuff fun the way Steven Seagal's more tolerable vehicles once did.

Beat-thumping techno songs and score by Nine Inch Nails help it all go down easier, as does OG “Tron” guy Jeff Bridges dude-ing up a few scenes, but traveling to that nifty high-tech landscape in this third "Tron" outing has become a chore rather than a pleasure.

The Break-Up is not comical or romantic, and it's certainly not a date movie. Sitting through it is almost as painful as going through the demise of a relationship.

There’s plenty to sink your teeth into when Cage is this superbly outrageous and manically inspired while Hoult, who’s got great comedic timing, is just as batty in his own way. Everything else about Renfield needs to go back in the coffin.

Geared for teens who perhaps found the Twilight series too profound, Warm Bodies is an unabashed homage to that wildly successful franchise. One of its stars, Teresa Palmer, is even done up to be a carbon copy of Kristen Stewart, the anchor of the vampire series.

Little Buddha is strange in the way that only Bernardo Bertolucci movies can be strange, and the strangest thing about it is the fact that Keanu Reeves isn't the strangest thing about it. [25 May 1994, p.5D]

Sharp satire or feel-good foolishness? Silly sap won out.

Though the film opens with an intriguing burnished look, it bogs down about halfway through with talkiness and uneven pacing.

It bristles with exuberant numbers that strain beneath the weight of cliché.

Amusingly macabre. [16 July 1999]

Martin, Keaton and cinematographer William A. Fraker put this retro fluff over better than expected early on, but hour 2 is only for those who don't want their equilibriums rattled by surprises. [8 Dec 1995, p.1D]

The raucous comedy fails to keep up with its charismatic star.

Mostly, it wallows in partying with a capital P.

Bale tends to be overwrought and self-conscious as he wrestles with his demons, here in both '60s flashbacks (the liveliest segment) and in the 1977 present, in which punk clubs and easy women represent temptation. [09 Apr 1999]

Truth is, Affleck and Paltrow flunk Chemistry 101. They aren't believable even as a fake couple.

The story, though initially intriguing, is dicey. A seminal social satire has been spun off into a passionless romance and a wan comedy.

And So It Goes plays a little like the graying lounge act it honors: It's impressive for its age, though not altogether impressive.

The movie meanders when they're not all together. Hahn, however, singlehandedly keeps the second Bad Moms — as she also did for the first — entertaining with her crass, over-the-top Carla.

A dreary poke-along adaptation of the Angela Sommer-Bodenburg children's stories.

This junior chick flick merely reinforces superficial clichés one associates with female teens: petty fights, intense highs and lows, and self-absorption.

Although it's reasonably well-acted and offers a few certifiable jolts, feels awfully familiar.

Anyone who pays to see it will certainly feel as if he has been clipped.

Violent thrills and massive blood spills are the essence of the absurdly over-the-top action flick that is Shoot 'Em Up.

Step Up 2 is one long, clichéd exercise in predictability with a couple of vibrant dance sequences and some unintentionally hilarious bad acting.

The rescue drama The Finest Hours rocks the boat in terms of blizzard-blitzed sea thrills but leaves you cold with its side love story.

Will leave audiences yawning rather than gasping from fear.

An odd mix of seediness, sideburns and even scorpions, the movie nearly matches the Lisa Marie-Michael Jackson marriage for weirdness.

You have to work hard to make an African vacation seem unpleasant. And Adam Sandler nearly pulls it off in Blended.

Willis' performance mystifies, while Mos Def's mesmerizes.

The live-action elements — mostly in the person of Antonio Banderas as cranky pirate Burger Beard, who spends most of his time addressing a flock of seagulls — don't mesh seamlessly with the animated sequences. It almost feels like two movies awkwardly melded together.

G-Force is unlikely to keep anyone older than 10 on the edge of his seat, and the bathroom humor may annoy adults. But the message of unity, while unoriginal, is consistently sweet.

Swarms of flies, oozing pustules, alligator attacks and gaggles of frogs are vividly rendered in three dimensions in Exodus: Gods and Kings. And yet this biblical epic is still bland, overly long and otherwise forgettable.

The Black Dahlia captivates with its dark style. But as with the particulars of the yet-unsolved case, the movie is frustratingly convoluted. What it accomplishes with its stunning cinematography and set design is undercut by a lack of coherence.

With its ho-hum performances, muddled point of view, inert plot and pedestrian writing, all that's left to appreciate are the sumptuous costumes, elaborate hairstyles and rococo production design, which are not enough to sustain any movie, even one set in the gilded splendor of Versailles.

Watching this movie feels a bit like being trapped on a weekend holiday with an unpredictable and seriously unhappy group of people.

Point Break points up inherent limitations in the "star" rating system. Its purely visceral material (surf sounds, skydiving stunt work, a tough indoor shootout midway through) are first-rate. As for the tangibles that matter even more (script, acting, directorial control, credible relationships between characters), Break defies belief. Dramatically, it rivals the lowest surf yet this year. [12 July 1991, p.4D]

Almost nothing about Raising Helen rings very true, other than the camera's crush on Kate Hudson.

The result is a generic saga with a cast of forgettable one-dimensional characters

The Love Punch is a romantic comedy as painfully unfunny as a sock in the jaw.

Rather than offering new blood, Carrie is a purely cosmetic revamp.

In the last five minutes the film shifts gears and offers a tribute to law enforcement. But this tacked-on resolution is as sticky and fake as Sean Penn's make-up job.

While teenage star Mckenna Grace infuses the aging property with a needed burst of youthful energy, co-writer/director Jason Reitman (son of original filmmaker Ivan Reitman) is more interested in looking backward with the sequel, leaning way too hard on old characters, story beats, plot points and zingers.

It isn't an unabashed movie-movie like the chest-thumping "Braveheart" or a cool, clinical semi-documentary like "The Battle of Algiers". There are elements of both here and they just don't dance. [11 Oct 1996, Pg.03.D]

What keeps it all watchable is Rodriguez’s magnetism.

The Glass Castle offers up a movie clan to beat in terms of complete dysfunction, though the brutal and heart-wrenching film is in its own way just as much of a mess.

Has some strong acting. But largely because of its glacial pacing, the story ends up feeling too detached to move us as it should.