A better title: "Coco Before She Was Interesting."

It's sadly and tenderly honest -- and so are Hansard and Irglova, as they generously and matter-of-factly open up to the camera.

Built as it is around horrifying moments of intimate violence, the stark British drama Tyrannosaur can be a hard movie to watch. At the same time, though, it's hard to stop watching once it gets going.

It represents the rare lead role for Mackie, and he seizes the opportunity, convincingly playing the part of a soft-spoken former Black Panther.

Boasting a rich look and an engrossing storyline, it's the rare "to-be-continued" film that doesn't leave its audience feeling cheated.

If nothing else, Garcia's movie is a brave one, with its unflinching look at adoption, which -- as overwhelmingly compassionate an act as it is -- often leaves behind deep emotional scars.

What most saw as entirely charming behavior others saw as a nuisance. After all, a playful whale has a way of unwittingly damaging rudders and outriggers and outboard motors and such. Worse, wildlife officials saw Luna's behavior as potentially dangerous, for the people he encountered -- and for the whale himself.

The film's message -- about how the Internet is sabotaging our real-life relationships -- doesn't resonate with absolute clarity, but Disconnect does a much more effective job than anyone could hope to do in 140 characters or less.

It's not a perfect film, mind you. It's too long by a quarter, and actor-turned-director Charles Martin Smith ("The Untouchables") lets any sense of real structure slip away in the film's crowded third act.

More seriously -- and substantively -- "A Late Quartet" was a quiet but thoughtful meditation on the power, and the necessary pain, of human connections. By comparison, Quartet is a flimsy bit of cinematic puffery that takes every obvious path on its way to its even more obvious "seize-the-day" message.

When a film's clichés are so obvious that its cast points them out for you, you've got to wonder how hard it's really trying.

While this nouveau Fright Night does a reasonable job of maintaining the fun spirit of the original film, between the blood splatters and vamp stakings, it never builds on what the original had to offer -- and thus never quite makes a convincing case for its own existence.

His (Andrew Dominik) film delivers when it matters, especially with its crystallizing final lines. Not only do they wrap a bow on what ends up being a treatise on the uglier side of capitalism, but they stand among the most memorable closing lines in recent Hollywood history.

If there's a breath of fresh air in it all, it's in the form of the young actress Jessica Barden playing a smoking, swearing, Tom Sawyer-flavored teenage delinquent determined to add some life to her excruciatingly boring rural existence.

As engrossing as The Young Victoria is, this isn't a movie that will stay with you very long. Mostly that's because Blunt's character does little by way of evolving.

As with most Ferrell projects, there's nothing profound going on in The Other Guys. It's just a bit of good, stupid fun, had at the expense of an uber-formulaic genre that has long been ripe for the spoofing. But it also works.

It is an inspiring, well-assembled portrait of one man's love for his autistic 6-year-old son and the measures he's willing to go to help the boy -- and the family -- cope with his neurological challenges.

Writer-director Markus Schleinzer's exceedingly dark drama -- guaranteed to make audiences squirm in their seats -- is emotionally unsettling.

It's a lovely bit of blood-pressure-lowering cinema that never betrays its simple conceit.

A solidly entertaining and largely engaging film that, even with its faults, functions as a singular -- albeit melancholy -- tribute to a tragic American icon.

While you're watching it, it is cozy and enjoyable, the same way a sleeping cat in your lap is cozy and enjoyable.

That storytelling, however, is uneven, ranging from something approaching tedium to moments that are downright wonderful (such as the sweetest of scenes, involving two young lovers -- played by and Alicia Vikander and Domhnall Gleeson -- and a stack of children's blocks).

Michelle Pfeiffer's performance brings life to a sometimes sagging script. Also, Kathy Bates is a hoot as the mother of Pfeiffer's love interest.

The result isn't just the best new romantic comedy released so far this year, but one of the best comedies, period.

Directed by someone you've never heard of and starring actors you won't be able to place, there's only one reason for a movie such as the locally shot Last Exorcism to exist: to scare the bejeezus out of you.

It's also the kind of movie that, for all of its smarts and huggability, stumbles every so often. Usually that happens when it's trying just a bit too hard to be cute, such as in its occasional surrealist, animation-assisted segments.

What we're left with is a love-it-or-hate-it film. Those determined to resist its deep-seated romanticism - or its operatic approach - will probably emerge from the theater as miserable as the film's characters. But those who are willing to give into it, and who want to take a grand cinematic voyage, stand to be greatly rewarded.

But lowbrow or not, it is, like, totally tubular in its own right. To the max. Fer sure.

Normally a reliable screenwriter, Sayles probably gives his audience too much credit with regard to its knowledge of what is one of the lesser-known chapters in America's military history. As a result, even with its modern parallels, Amigo makes for dense, slow-going viewing.

Cera exudes a geeky charm and tender vulnerability that's hard to resist -- probably because he's far easier to relate to for most of us than we'd like to admit.

In other words, Iron Man 3 -- once more delivering a satisfying combination of humor, action and dazzling set pieces -- provides everything fans of the franchise expect.

An unflinchingly ugly -- but downright mesmerizing -- tale that plumbs the depths of human immorality and, along the way, offers a dash of subtle commentary on just how far we, as a 312 million-member nuclear family, might have lost our way.

Aesthetically, Helgeland's film -- while highly polished -- is straight-forward stuff, hewing so closely to the prescribed genre conventions as to border on unimaginative.

Their story, as told by Pooley, also is a touching and quietly meaningful one, built around themes of tolerance, self-acceptance and unconditional love.

If there's a prevailing problem with director Richard Loncraine's bit of period fluff, it's that many of the characters encountered along the way are a touch too cartoonish to resonate meaningfully with audiences.

Unapologetically raw -- and very funny.

Perhaps the best thing about The Five-Year Engagement is that it signals a touch of maturity creeping into the House of Apatow.

The whole thing is such a rare visual treat -- such a tres magnifique cinematic spectacle -- that those flaws are easy to overlook. Jeunet's film is hard to resist.

The Help isn't intended to be so much a movie about the ugliness of the era than an optimistic tale of what can spring from that kind of ugliness, about the ability of people to love one another even when they're surrounded by hatred. And on that level, The Help succeeds wonderfully, a warm and sweet song of hope.

An uplifting and colorful crowd-pleaser, it's built on a wealth of cinematic contrivances -- all designed to make sure things, indeed, turn out all right in the end -- but the result is just too good-natured to begrudge.

By the time The American is finished, it feels like one great big pointless exercise. With George Clooney on the poster.

What Kwapis does do, however, is nicely handle the film's whale of an emotional payoff.

One gets the feeling that Thompson left a lot on the table with The Jeffrey Dahmer Files, that it could have been something more, something bigger, something elaborate. And that may be true. But the film that Thompson did choose to make - one that is both simple but effective -- is fascinating in its own right.

As well-shot and well-acted as it is, one can't help feeling there's a good movie in there somewhere. Unfortunately, it's buried beneath such an avalanche of extraneousness and artistic posing.

Just don't think too hard -- or at all, really -- or else you run the risk of realizing that Fast & Furious 6 is running on little more than fumes, with just a shot or two of nitrous.

RED is so much fun -- and its Over the Hill Gang so likeable -- that this is one of those rare cases where I wouldn't mind seeing them come out of retirement again for another romp.

After watching the bailouts, the bank foreclosures and the Bernie Madoffs of the world dominate headlines, Michael Moore is mad as hell, and he's going to try to make you mad as hell, too.

A reasonably well-made biopic, with crowd-pleasing moments, but one that -- despite that title -- isn't really about the animal.

There's no "place" in this place, no clear destination -- and no real payoff in a film that stands a cinematic curiosity but little more.

With its immensely likable cast elevating the material, Judge extracts just enough ironic chuckles to rescue the movie from being written off as an assembly-line comedy.

Disappointingly, all of "Jealousy's" promising narrative turns go nowhere. [3 July 1998, p.L28]

Among them, Polanski's four-person cast boasts four Oscars and eight more nominations, so these are big-league actors who are capable of carrying a film such as this through its occasional miscalculations.

Gilroy -- who earned writing credits on all four "Bourne" films -- doesn't miss when it comes to the most important task at hand: He takes a well-worn concept and makes it feel new, and without sacrificing its sense of familiarity.

The casting is perfect, and the resetting of the story to China allows for a satisfyingly cinematic retelling.

It's his film's metamorphosis into something else -- something every bit as dark, and every bit as intriguing -- that will keep viewers planted in their seats, and, at times, perched on the edges of them.

Dawson, who to this point has largely built her career playing supporting characters, seizes the opportunity to stand center-stage, all but taking over the film.

9, though animated, isn't really a movie for kids. The problem is that, despite its strikingly original set-up and its cool steampunk visual vibe, it's not much of a movie for grown-ups, either.

It is small, it is smart, it is quirky.

What the Duplasses end up with is a film that is amusing at times, a touch repetitive at others, but one that never quite shakes the feeling that it is something of an unfinished thought. And perhaps something they've also grown beyond.

Not the deepest stuff, but thought-provoking all the same -- and entertaining to boot.

The Beaver also has a tendency to slip around as it finds its footing. But then the powerful third act comes and Foster, with Gibson's help, hits it home.

This latest enterprise - 70-odd minutes of purposeful navel-gazing directed by Steven Soderbergh - isn't quite as searching or provocative as Gray's prior big-screen outings, "Swimming to Cambodia" and "Monster In a Box." [16 May 1997, p.L25]

Celeste and Jesse Forever isn't a movie many people will outright hate, but if this is the most original romantic comedy that Hollywood can muster, forever can't come soon enough.

It keeps things light and entertaining. And for $8 admission, that's never a bad investment.

So while J. Edgar ends up feeling like a mostly complete portrait of the man, and as fascinating a story as it is, it still falls just short of being something entirely memorable.

Perhaps the best thing about Seeking a Friend is that it never ceases to surprise, as Scafaria's script consistently defies Hollywood convention in the most congenial ways.

Stone is generally given to deep thinking -- eternal fates are on the line. Not only does that lend the riveting and intense Savages a certain gravity, but it's also what separates his film from, say, your favorite Guy Ritchie movie. Here, we find an appealing depth amid the appalling violence.

With beautiful, artful images serving to break up the monotony of the film's wealth of talking heads, Surviving Progress is at times as visually striking as it is persuasive.

Burger's film would have been better had he ended it about three minutes earlier than he does -- a move that would have given his movie at least a dash of profundity.

It's a fun one to talk about -- if only for the opportunity to shake your head in amused disbelief at what you just saw.

Ends up being a reasonably gripping story of political intrigue, international corruption and one woman's determined fight for justice.

Yes, Apatow's film has its peaks and valleys -- just the way life does -- but it stands alone nicely on its own, a satisfying comedic riff on life and all of its absurdities.

A movie with undeniable melancholy underpinnings, but Bertuccelli wisely avoids overdoing the drama to nurse cheap tears from her audience.

It's an uplifting, even enchanting, smile-inducer.

Alas, in Cronenberg's hands, it just comes across as cold and lifeless and exhausting.

Plotwise, though, Brewer's Footloose is anything but loose. In fact, it's rigidly loyal to the original, to the point of slavishness.

There's an overly episodic feel to it all, as Curtis and company seem happy merely to float along from gag to gag.

What we end up with is an arm's-length film that feels more haunted than haunting -- and one that audiences will want to forget rather than remember.

Ends up being the kind of movie we don't see a whole lot anymore: an emotionally grounded and quietly meaningful crowd-pleaser that functions as a lovely antidote to the recently ended summer blockbuster season.

The fight sequences are briskly choreographed at least, gruesome though they are -- and, to be honest, that goes a long way in a film such as this. In fact they may be the only reason to see it, other than the chance to see Van Damme in full Col. Kurtz mode, all face-painted and droopy-eyed and bat-poop crazy.

Worse, Shrek Forever After feels like just another animated movie -- which is exactly what the series was fighting against when it started, and a big reason why it caught on with audiences.

It is raw, it is searing, it is honest.

More than just corny. Eclipse is boring.

What we're left with is a thoroughly mediocre, shrug-generating disappointment -- and one that certainly doesn't feel like it should have cost more than a third of a billion dollars to make and market.

Suffers through the occasional lull, but those would be much easier to forgive if they didn't also generate frequent false moments that threaten to take viewers out of the movie.

An Unexpected Journey also proves that it is, indeed, possible to get too much of a good thing.

A heartwarming -- and at times heartbreaking -- post-"Juno" road comedy for grownups.

The film -- lame of title but big on fun.

Almost feels as if it is two different films. One is the opening 20 minutes or so, in which most of the screwball comedy takes place. The other comes when Yimou gets on with the real story. That's where the payoff comes in.

That it's all true might make it more heart-tugging, but it doesn't make it any more interesting.

Along the way, a raft of experts are featured -- including Times-Picayune outdoor editor Bob Marshall -- speaking bluntly about the cozy relationship between politicians and the oil industry.

Chimpanzee is so skillfully crafted, and the big-hearted outcome so endearing and entertaining, that any narrative liberties taken to aid in the telling of this prehensile tale are not only forgivable but welcome.

It's a grand, colorful adventure, an escapist romp draped in tinsel. And, who knows -- if you're all good little boys and girls this year, perhaps it will also be the first installment in a new DreamWorks holiday tradition.

Because while it can boast of some truly extraordinary special effects -- stomach-churning, face-hacking, arm-slicing visual effects, the kind that are sure to titillate the gleefully twisted -- this Evil Dead is far more gruesome than awesome.

For the first time in its 25-year existence, Pixar has created an utterly ordinary film.

Along the way, Shut Up, Little Man boasts nice technical elements. And it is, admittedly, amusing to a degree. Peter and Raymond certainly know how to turn a phrase. But things begin to wear thin about halfway through.

Gets considerable gas from the fact that Bateman, Sudeikis and Day so convincingly play three idiotic pals. The real fun, though, is in the fantastic supporting cast.

It's a good, old-fashioned sit-around-the-campfire ghost story, one that delivers on its sole reason for existence: to raise the hairs on the back of your arms.

Ends up being an enjoyable, if only marginally memorable, ride.

The result: a fun and sweet romantic comedy that lands comfortably on the smart side of vacant, along the way offering a pleasant and satisfying holiday diversion for the grown-ups in the room.

Ritchie and company spend too much time being cute and not enough time being clever, resulting in a one-dimensional comic-book version of Doyle's detectives.

The good news: This is Goldthwait the writer-director, not Goldthwait the actor -- so there's no schticky voice to endure. But his exceedingly black comedy does speak loudly -- and it turns out he's actually got something worthwhile to say.

These characters are so likeable, and so well-portrayed, that it's easy to go along with it all.

As well-intended as it is, writer-director Max Mayer's film lacks focus.

Getting two biographies on the same person in such a short window is unusual. What's even more unusual is that both suffer from the same flaw.

One major reason it succeeds is because of 11-year-old actress Bailee Madison, who brings a wonderful believability to her role as the girl at the center of the film.

When making a film for 10-year-old boys, it doesn't have to be good, necessarily -- just good enough. And that's exactly what Real Steel is: good enough.

Intermittently interesting, but well-intentioned, it almost makes up for "The Tourist."

As a result, Hereafter isn't so deep that it will change the way many people think about the afterlife. But it is heartfelt and thoughtful and, in a way, comforting.

It's probably best not to think very hard about any of it -- just dummy up and laugh along.

The result is a film with sporadic outbursts of wackiness, but one that (Oh, Fortuna's Wheel!) never gains traction from a storytelling standpoint.

Director Martin Campbell does a nice job of creating suspense, and Ray Winstone stands out for his performance as a conflicted hitman.

In other words, For a Good Time is not a good time. For that, you'll have to dust off your Nintendo and reacquaint yourself with "The Legend of Zelda" -- and hope that one of these days somebody can give "Bridesmaids" some real competition.

As beautiful as the animation is, Zemeckis' real masterstroke is combining it with a loyalty to Dickens' story.

Lee keeps things afloat with an appealing air of levity, including a fun but restrained use of split-screen, an homage to the 1970 doc, as well as cameos by that movie's Port-O-San guy and its peace-sign-flashing nuns.

McDonald's film never really finds its footing -- and The Eagle never takes flight.

Hitchcock purists will certainly take issue with some details, but Gervasi's film shouldn't be taken as an ironclad factual film docudrama. Rather, it is fact-inspired fiction -- a film based on real events but one that isn't shy about taking creative liberties. As long as viewers keep that in mind, Gervasi's stands to be a nice bit of murderous fun.

Never elevated beyond much more than mere presidential puffery.

Tony Scott pushes all the right buttons, crafting a worthy -- and in many ways, a superior -- update.

The ultimate goal of a film like this, of course, is to change minds. As compelling a case as it builds, Promised Land isn't quite persuasive enough to be able to promise to do that.

The Croods does a lot of things well -- even if it does none of them extraordinarily. The end result is a solidly middle-of-the-road bit of animation -- but the kind that is easily forgotten as soon as something more evolved, and original, comes along.

If the surpassingly murky narrative logic behind "Generations" is any indication of what's to come, Paramount had better start making explanatory material available to perplexed viewers as well as confused critics. [18 Nov. 1994, p.L27]

Before it gives itself a chance to deliver on that promise, however, it morphs into something different -- something often resembling a soap opera, just with prettier sets and less-passionate smooching.

Lillard's film ends up being more unsatisfying than anything else. His "Fat Kid" might rule the world, but it doesn't quite rule the screen.

Never coalesces into anything memorable, much less meaningful.

Twenty-five years ago, it would have been impossible to imagine that Imagine That would see Eddie Murphy and The Beatles coming together to create family entertainment, but I'll be darned if it doesn't work.

Between its ridiculous setup and its hard-to-care-about ending, McDonald still manages to craft an engaging suspense film that -- when you're not scratching your head in puzzlement -- will have you on the edge of your seat.

Lacks any real sense of vitality. And no matter how worthwhile a film's message is, it's difficult for audiences to care if the path to the payoff so often feels like a slog.

Director David Bowers' story is straightforwardly -- almost unimaginatively -- approached. But, armed with a talented cast and Kinney's chuckle-generating source material, it functions nicely as a sort of big-screen "Wonder Years" for Millennials.

Granted, "intelligent" might be too generous a word to describe Oblivion, which flirts with big questions, but never answers them. What's left is a story that doesn't quite go where no man has gone before.

What it lacks in style, however, it more than makes up for in substance, as Shearer -- as smart as he is funny -- has assembled a vital and admirably accessible post-mortem on Hurricane Katrina.

Although Epic isn't quite an animated masterpiece -- or as enchanting as the vastly underrated "Guardians" -- it's still a fun, sweet-hearted kid-pleaser that boasts some downright lovely animation.

A satisfying dose of wild imagination and unbridled silliness.

Pros and cons aside, Sinister has the benefit of arriving in the thick of Halloween season, right when movie-goers are most hungry for a few scares. And they'll get them from Derrickson's film, too.

Burton's most imaginative film in some time.

One of the reasons it's so effective is because it's based on a real-life, odds-defying story: that of mountainous Baltimore Ravens offensive tackle Michael Oher (played by Quinton Aaron).

McNamara's relentlessly shiny, happy outlook crosses the line between believable and artificial by about the 10-minute mark.

Still, it's not the iconic, be-all-end-all that Scott was certainly hoping for.

The joy of Hysteria, like the joy of certain other things, isn't necessarily rooted in the element of surprise. Rather, it's in the pleasure of the path taken to get to that crescendo.

It's not really a Disney film. Rather, this is a product of Starz Animation. It's a key distinction, because -- well, because Starz Animation is no Disney, and it's certainly no Pixar. It proves that here.

Thank goodness for Rainey. Even when the story feels false, he never does, operating with an open-faced sense of easy honesty that is missing from much of the rest of the film.

This is the sort of movie that Charles Bronson would have made back in the day, and indeed a shot of Johnson standing in a sporting goods store, contemplating a wall of shotguns as he gets ready to get busy, could have come from any "Death Wish."

She could stand to learn a lesson herself, from another magical governess -- you know, the one about the spoon full of sugar.

It feels more like a poor man's "Poltergeist, " minus the static-filled TV.

Part 2 really is a continuation of "Part 1," both from a story standpoint and from an artistic standpoint.

A gritty spy thriller directed by relative newcomer Daniel Espinosa, and a film that -- despite the occasional misstep -- ends up being a taut, suspense-filled ride.

Beautiful Creatures is still an unabashed imitator, hewing closely to the "Twilight" blueprint. Some might go so far as to call it a blatant ripoff, as the differences between the two are cosmetic at best.

What we're left with is a movie that is about as nourishing as the Junior Mints and nachos available at the theater snack bar. But, then, many a Friday night dinner has been made of far less.

For 91 minutes of its briskly paced 94-minute running time, the film works as a tightly wound bit of pins-and-needles storytelling. Then, Anderson lets it all unravel in a three-minute stretch of cheap writing that not only betrays the characters he worked so hard to develop, but that also thumbs its nose at any audience members with a brain.

It's hard to resist the pairing of such talented actors as Robert Downey Jr. and Zack Galifianakis - and they prove why here. They are funny guys, both of whom make the most of the material.

There are plenty of entertaining moments to latch onto beneath the sci-fi tropes -- and maybe even a few that will inspire a new generation of storytellers.

It's not only shameless, it detracts from what this movie could have been, and still is when the self-promoting Harvey shuts up.

Dialogue is often stilted (and fraught with unlikely outbursts of speechifying) and the ending hardly soars, but Cook, a near-ringer for the young Winona Ryder, has a shyly appealing personality and O'Keefe makes a villainess you'll love to hiss. [29 Jan 1999, p.L24]

No, Funeral Kings isn't quite dead on arrival -- but it's not too far from needing life support.

A movie that offers exactly the kind of bittersweet drama you'd expect from something called White Irish Drinkers.

You can't just cast an appealing actress in the lead role -- in this case Queen Latifah ("Valentine's Day, " "The Secret Life of Bees") -- and expect her to do all the heavy lifting.

Rather than "Greased Lightning," we get a holding pattern -- which is better than a crash-landing, but still ...

Unimaginative and painfully generic.

There's no point mincing words: My Sister's Keeper is a difficult film to watch. That's not to say it isn't well-assembled, well-cast or well-acted.

Anonymous starts admirably quickly, but Emmerich repeatedly forgets to look over his shoulder to see if his audience is keeping track of which stringy-haired Calvin Klein model is which.

The hard, cold truth is that the hard, cold For Colored Girls is just plain difficult to fall in love with, regardless of the amount of passion Perry poured into it or how much meaning he's freighted it with.

Hit and Run achieves its chief goal: to put the pedal to the metal for some good, goofy fun, squealing the tires as often as possible along the way.

I've got a fourth verb to add to the comma-challenged title of Julia Roberts' how-to-be-happy travelogue, Eat Pray Love. How about "edit"?

A predictable but painless pastiche of high school drama clichés that will give its intended tween audience a lot to squeal about -- and leave their parents reminiscing quietly about how good films from '80s icon John Hughes were.

No, it's not a perfect movie, given how dangerously close it comes to running out of quality third-act punchlines before you're liable to have run out of Sno-caps and Raisinettes. Also, some of the biggest names in the supporting cast -- John Lithgow and Dan Aykroyd, specifically -- are all but wasted.

The Lottery Ticket doesn't hit the comedy jackpot, but it doesn't roll snake eyes, either. In my book, that's a winner.

Despite the derivative nature and low production values of Super, there are laughs in the at-times ragged script.

A surprisingly entertaining movie on its own, a strap-yourself-in, suspend-your-disbelief summer popcorn adventure.

Without the fantastic performances from Gandolfini, Stewart and Leo, it wouldn't hold together nearly as well as it does.

A film that is neither great nor horrible. Favreau does enough things right in Cowboys & Aliens to churn out a mostly enjoyable bit of mindless summertime action, just not enough to come close to rivaling his 2008 crowd-pleaser "Iron Man."

For all of its faults, ends up being relentlessly watchable as well, a summertime popcorn spectacle plopped down in the middle of the fall movie season.

Yes, it is derivative, but in a year in which films from the 1980s are getting needless remakes seemingly every other week, this one stands out as a rare one that works. That's a good "Thing."

In the half-baked American Reunion, though, they might have accomplished what no previous chapter has: They might have just killed it.

Not only did Hughes shoot a handful of prominent scene-setting exteriors in the Big Apple itself, but he does an exceptional job of camouflaging his New Orleans scenes.

Thoroughly, and disappointingly, pedestrian.

Like the character at its center, Wein's film suffers from a certain sense of inertia, which is where Gerwig comes in.

The actors never stray too far from their comfort zones, resulting in a sporadically funny but mostly bland crime comedy that only occasionally feels fresher or more memorable than that cold pizza you scarfed for breakfast Monday morning.

Like the original, it is a moody, atmospheric film, one boasting significantly more depth than your typical blow-'em-up.

Ritchie is simply trying to buy a good movie here -- and forgetting that a little brainpower is also required to complete the job.

There's really nothing definitive about Emperor. Or memorable, for that matter.

At some point, Lee as a storyteller must step in to move things along, to dig the rudder deep into the narrative waters and steer this ship. The destination is almost irrelevant - just steer it somewhere.

It's neither a good movie nor a bad movie. It's just a movie.

It's done with affection, so it's hard to begrudge Hill for indulging in a postcard cliché or two. After all, it - like Hill's movie as a whole - certainly beats a bullet to the head.

A movie that wants to be a crowd-pleasing romantic comedy at times and a weighty drama at others. It ends up being an imperfect blend of both.

If it weren't for the casting of Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in the lead roles, the film probably would have gone straight to DVD.

This is a movie that confuses teary with sweet. Mopey with sad. Discomfort with humor. And, worst of all, it confuses weird with odd.

The fact that there are so many good comic bits here allowed Kasdan to assemble a great comic cast.

As clearly calculated and self-consciously cutesy as it is, it's also tender and meaningful stuff -- and far more watchable than other recent attempts to capture the existential angst of adolescence. ("The Art of Getting By.")

It features predictable humor and an underdeveloped story.

Unfortunately, like the Poison song says -- and, in many ways, like the decade itself -- it ain't nothin' but a good time.

An uneven story that tries too hard to be meaningful and not hard enough to be funny.

That's not to say it's a bad film, necessarily. It's just not as good as it could have -- and should have -- been.

All along, though, I was struck by an even stronger feeling, that I was sitting in on somebody else's therapy session. That's not a comfortable feeling -- and that makes Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close considerably less rewarding than it should be.

As fun as it is at times -- particularly early on -- the longer The Sorcerer's Apprentice goes on, the more the magic wears off.

How do you know when a romantic comedy just isn't working? Key indicators are that your audience doesn't get goose bumps in the inevitable third-act reunion. They don't get misty-eyed. In short, they don't really care.

As it turns out, though, the most troubling part of the film for me wasn't the rape scene, or the siege scene or the Southern stereotypes. Rather, it was the audience's reaction to Marsden's chilling spasms of bloody violence as he defends his home. Rather than breaking out in hives, many in the audience broke out in laughter.

It's a nice, feel-good story with an appealing cast and strong production values.

Bill Condon returns fans' love and gives them exactly what they have shown they want. That is: uneven storytelling, maudlin dialog and decidedly one-note performances, even from the big names in the cast.

Ends up being a pleasantly surprising blast from the past, a delightful and amusing touchstone to Allen's comedic prime.

Best of all, here there be fun.

This is the kind of film that feels like a dream - but not in the good way. Rather, it resembles a dream in that it is made up of disjointed, loosely connected bits of surrealist craziness - ideas that might have seemed interesting in the twilight hours but that don't come close to standing up to the light of day.

But artistically interesting only takes a film so far. What it needs are laughs- - or at least a compelling narrative. It's got neither -- with the result being a film that arrives as dead as a certain parrot from a certain skit. One of the funny ones.

There's a germ of a good story there, and Intruders isn't without the occasional tense moment. But unfortunately Hollowface is as undeveloped as the other characters in Intruders, which is the film's biggest flaw of all.

Sure, it's an interesting scene as he (Stone) chews the fat with Raul Castro, and coca leaves with Bolivia's Evo Morales. But his South of the Border can't be taken seriously, muchacho -- and if you think it can, well, I've got a primo cigar factory in Havana to sell you.

At worst, though, the film's faintly sleazy bait-and-switch tactic robs the film of its biggest asset -- its sense of fun.

There's meaning, great meaning, in Susser's wonderfully oddball little film.

I love a good, brainless action flick as much as the next alpha male, but this time I had a whole lot of trouble laughing along.

Is all of that to say that Oz the Great and Powerful comes even close to matching the timeless, iconic stature of 1939's "The Wizard of Oz"? No, of course not. That's not just a once-in-a-lifetime cultural phenomenon, but a once-in-many-liftimes one.