Jon Turteltaub

It's bad news when a Bruckheimer movie makes one downright nostalgic for The Rock...

The cinematic equivalent of the guy who runs up to a cop, grabs the cop's hat, throws it to the ground and takes a shit on it. One is left a bit speechless.

This PG-rated Jerry Bruckheimer production is slick as an oiled weasel: larded with fancy special effects, canned romance, corny humor and a general lack of sophistication.