L.A. Weekly's Scores

For 3,656 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 46% higher than the average critic
  • 3% same as the average critic
  • 51% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 6.2 points lower than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Movie review score: 55
Highest review score: 100 Spirited Away
Lowest review score: 0 Lower Learning
Score distribution:
3,656 movie reviews
  1. In "Pretty Woman" Roberts played a tough whore with a soft heart. Here, she's a business owner whose sense of self is so tenuous she doesn't even know how she likes her eggs done.
  2. Drab and muddled romance.
  3. Ultimately neither freewheeling enough to work as a diverting entertainment nor barbed enough to strike home as any sort of social commentary.
  4. With flashbulb editing as cover for the absence of narrative continuity, Undisputed is nearly incoherent, an excuse to get to the closing bout (shot through bars and barbed wire in case we forgot the combatants are incarcerated), by which time it's impossible to care who wins.
  5. The movie rarely overcomes its terminal Scorsese- and Ferrara-isms, or fulfills the promise, evident in the film's early passages, that Montias might be a fine observer of local color with his own unique stories to tell.
  6. About the only good thing to say about this mess is that it's rotten enough that even Altman cultists may be forced to reconsider their devotion.
  7. Placing gay characters front and center in big Hollywood movies is supposed to inspire cheers, not the case of the creeps that comes with Three To Tango.
  8. Manipulative, feel-good drivel wrapped around a cloying performance by Kevin Spacey.
  9. Relies almost exclusively on the gushing exuberance of Gooding Jr., and the aw-shucks factor of his digitally expressive, face-licking canine co-stars, leaving such potentially game actors as James Coburn and M. Emmet Walsh out in the cold.
  10. This new feature has replaced the original's benevolence, taste and wit with cynicism, armpit humor and manic, desperately unfunny padding.
  11. The wet blanket of undigested autobiography lies all over Rob Reiner's excruciating new opus about a marriage winding down into terminal atrophy.
  12. An exploitation flick, but without the thrills or cleavage.
  13. Kidman, who speaks Russian for much of the movie, turns in a technically impeccable performance, but the movie gets far more out of her than she out of it.
  14. Squeak(s) by to make Loser justify the price of admission.
  15. It's amazing that anyone still thinks this kind of shit can fly.
    • 38 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Brodie assembles a grab bag of themes formulaic to films about poverty.
  16. This hypersleek film is surprisingly lax for its first half... The ending is dumb.
    • 34 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    When you don't find yourself wondering about dialogue that's drowned out by rushing rivers and footfalls in the brush, something is very wrong.
  17. Director Mel Smith (Bean) struggles to make up for the lack, clumsily juggling screwball dames and criminal elements, and trying to disguise the film's marked lack of vitality with split-screen tricks, jokey camera angles and a limp musical montage.
  18. Bass isn't a gifted actor, but he retains his dignity, mostly by keeping his head down and avoiding the eyes of the idiots around him.
  19. If only the whole thing were as funny as an Albert Brooks movie.
  20. He (Berlanti) shoots for bland entertainment and scores.
    • tbd Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Flat-footed.
  21. In the end, Some Fish Can Fly doesn't.
  22. Its tone is as disjointed as if this were a first effort.
  23. Branagh has cut, pasted and aggressively abridged Love's Labour's Lost, and piled it high with fancy visuals to make sure we get the drift.
  24. A dud.
    • 21 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    This movie's already been entertaining (or boring) airline passengers for months.
  25. By the last third, one is sick to death of seeing people tortured, no real catharsis is offered, and stupid is how one feels.
    • 42 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    With this desperately eager-to-please fable based on a short story and novel by Isaac Asimov, director Chris Columbus clinches his berth as the master of shiny-happy message movies.
  26. The director and her capable cast appear to be caught in a heady whirl of New Age–inspired good intentions, but the spell they cast isn't the least bit mesmerizing.
  27. At times, both swans and humans appear oddly out of sync with their flat backgrounds, while the film's few musical flights of fancy never achieve visual liftoff.
  28. As a first-time filmmaker who juggles such duties as writing, directing, producing, even playing piano solos on the soundtrack, Rice is in over his head.
  29. The best I can say for Smiling Fish is that it's capable and pleasant, which ought to sound a warning note louder than if I'd said it was awful.
  30. The film portrays a family undone by grief over the death of a loved one; that, in any event, is its plot synopsis. More accurately, the film is a wallow of authorial narcissism, and a tedious, unrelenting, uninteresting wallow at that.
  31. Fails because it takes itself both too seriously and not seriously enough.
  32. Seems stuck in reverse.
  33. Like the film's characters, the city of Paris has been made faceless, as if it too were merely the pawn in a representational hell where light and color and shading are forbidden.
    • 23 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Essentially a single-gag movie: Namely, trailer trash are funny; we laugh at their bad taste and social ineptitude.
  34. The one saving grace is a sweet, affecting performance by Werner de Smedt.
  35. Director Alan Rudolph kills this promising film off with a combination of bad writing and wrong-headed direction.
  36. A little bit "pi," a little bit "julien donkey-boy," a little bit "Eraserhead," Buddy Boy doesn't equal these, but offers bizarre pleasures of its own.
  37. The deliriously deficient new excuse for a comedy.
  38. Lamely engineered and thoroughly exploited tragedy.
  39. A flat, middlebrow variation on some of the central themes of recent Iranian cinema.
  40. The director belabors every moment, forgetting that pulp tales need to be told quickly, lest the viewer have time to second-guess.
  41. Sitcom humor substitutes for wit, and tedious angst supplies the drama.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Ultimately, it's as vapid as (Michael Jordan's) perfume and as disposable as a pair of his Hanes.
    • tbd Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    This spineless feel-good nonsense means to warm the cockles of your heart. Somebody check the oven: My cockles were charred.
  42. Koppelman and Lieven's toneless, generic direction style is slack, not slick, and they handle actors like livestock. Only John Malkovich, as Matty's psychotic uncle, retains his dignity.
  43. Try as they might, the two central performers can never overcome the film's underdeveloped core, and are left flailing about amid Nutley's listless, glacial pacing.
  44. Pretension, in its own way, is a form of bravery. For this reason and this reason only -- the power of its own steadfast, hoity-toity convictions -- Chelsea Walls deserves a medal.
  45. A disappointing hodgepodge that fails to tie up its conflicting strands of family drama and suspense thriller.
  46. Whatever ghost-story intrigue the film musters gives way to a tedious cycle of fighting, screwing, shouting and storytelling stuck together by two hours worth of hard-boiled dialogue gone gummy.
  47. Empty details pile up, awful performance art is doled out, talking heads are intermittently identified, and the late Brandon Teena is evoked to little real purpose.
  48. One almost pities the unnervingly twitchy Murphy, whose shiny makeup is dreadful, and who doesn't stand a chance alongside the focused intensity of Fanning, who commands the screen with the precision of a 30-year veteran.
  49. After a zippy first hour, the wackos wear out their welcome and the director, perversely, fails to show the big concert.
  50. An intriguing failure that promises more than it delivers.
  51. Callahan's feature debut is a one-way ticket to Palookaville.
    • 36 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Occasionally funny, cameo-speckled marshmallow.
  52. While Kaminski understands that movie terror comes in at the eyes, he has little skill for connecting sensation to hearts and minds.
  53. By the time a not terribly surprising tragedy hits and these crazy kids get theirs, the movie doesn't so much end as finally keel over.
  54. The narrative chronology is so heavily hacked about, its tenses so addled and the material so thinly spread across so many characters, one can scarcely keep it straight in one's head without going cross-eyed.
    • 42 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Nothing in this craven exercise... will register in the memory for longer than the walk back to the car.
  55. Achieves a level of hypocrisy astounding less for its brazenness than for its sheer stupidity.
  56. A mindless muddle.
  57. Rich with comic potential that goes unfulfilled, time after stupefying time.
  58. Marks no discernible improvement on its predecessors "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo" and "The Animal," though the sight of the deeply unprepossessing Schneider all dolled up for girlie business is good for a few shallow chuckles.
  59. In the end it's only "The Chanukah Song, Part 3," playing over the closing credits, that manages to capture the joy of the season.
  60. Never quite deciding if it wants to parody or uphold the ongoing cultural romance with the Pimp, Pootie Tang mostly feels like a sad retread.
  61. At once illogical and insultingly stupid, filled with dead-end twists and the sort of dialogue that makes a mockery of actual adult relations.
  62. The biggest problem is that the character of Sabine is such a lame male fantasy of the enigmatic woman-child.
    • 31 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    The first two-thirds are turgid enough; in the last, Ferrara begins replaying scenes we've already seen earlier in the film.
  63. Bruckheimer's latest is in some crucial respects worse than those earlier blockbuster bids ("Gone in 60 Seconds" and "Coyote Ugly") -- certainly it's more fraudulent -- because unlike those films, which don't claim to be about anything other than thrills and tits, Remember the Titans means to be about race.
  64. A flimsy premise to begin with, it’s been punctured beyond repair by an amateur script from Bill Kelly and director Hugh Wilson (The First Wives Club), and by Wilson’s shocking ineptitude with dialogue, framing and pace.
  65. Even the easily weepy may grow impatient with the snail’s pace of this melancholy romance.
  66. Even when the film does strike some genuinely heart-tugging notes, they’re invariably shattered by such ham-fisted lines as “You really are blind.” At times, it’s enough to make you wish you were deaf.
    • 19 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    FX whiz John Bruno (Terminator 2, True Lies) makes a dubious directorial debut here, juggling monsters that are icky but not scary; an out-of-control Donald Sutherland as the tug’s Ahabesque captain.
  67. Both character and metaphor have gone to the dogs, leaving a slew of fart and burp jokes and laying bare Dreamcatcher's driving purpose, which is to make multiplexes full of little boys yuk it up, then gross them out, creep them out.
  68. Chai's structure and pacing are disconcertingly slack. Missing the loose ends and ambiguities of actual conversation, the dialogue makes characters sound like they're delivering speeches rather than interacting.
  69. Slight and goofy, this cut-rate attempt to mine "Harry Potterville" is undermined by its ostensible draw: the lead casting of Jonathan Lipnicki.
  70. Provides an unfulfilled promise of pleasure (providing one doesn't cave in to the spectacle of bare-chested Elizabeth Hurley sucking on an ice cube) in this heavy-handed exercise in time-vaulting literary pretension.
  71. The editing looks like it was done in a blender, and the images of death and grief are so genre-primal that the Pangs hardly bother with dialogue.
  72. A horror movie that's not horrific enough, Soul Survivors plays like a "Twilight Zone" by way of "Touched by an Angel."
  73. Crushingly airless film -- Food chokes on its own depiction of upper-crust decorum.
  74. Going Down is woefully lacking in the comedy (or the sex for that matter), and even some of the teens look a little long in the tooth.
  75. The interchangeable males all resemble Freddie Prinze Jr., and Anderson's direction is no less anemic, making one yearn for an Escape/Quit button that, sadly, doesn't exist in this medium.
  76. By all current standards it's a startlingly ingenuous film.
  77. It all misses the mark emotionally, hindered by one-dimensional characters and telegraphed developments.
  78. Thai director Kaos (a.k.a. Wych Kaosayananda), making his inauspicious Hollywood debut, still can't breathe any life into it. You'll just want to get back to your Game Boy.
  79. Of course, it's terrible -- but did it have to be this bad?
  80. It's like a three-times-too-long sitcom pilot missing the laugh track.
  81. Too much of a mess to say anything with assurance, pieced together as it is from mismatched institutional movies such as "Cool Hand Luke" and "Shock Corridor" -- with "Lord of the Flies" thrown in for good measure -- and turning on plot points that simply don't wash.
  82. A soulless affair.
  83. If only they had the courage of their crassness.
  84. The mood is hermetic to the point of claustrophobia, embellished with a sense of everyday surrealism indebted to David Lynch.
  85. Long-shelved 2001 clunker.
  86. The film is ultimately more labored than inspired. A cameo by James Brown is amusing, but it can't keep The Tuxedo from earning the distinction of being Chan's worst Hollywood film to date.
  87. This brittle little confection from director Peyton Reed (Bring It On) may drive you up the wall -- unless you're willing to settle for great frocks, stylish production design and wicked opening credits.
  88. Singleton has neither the emotional nor intellectual depth to do justice to his thesis. He is too in awe of the stereotypical hood lifestyles and macho posturings that he's trying to critique.

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