Never explains its stupid idea of a talking baseball and a talking bat...The filmmakers presume too much in assuming we'll accept the "magic" "realism"...

Johnson gives the part his authoritative all, but he doesn't have the depth of ability to elevate a sappy script that regularly calls for up-choking.

Where do WB pilots go when they die? Perhaps they're reincarnated as lousy supernatural thrillers.

The downtime since Ong-Bak has left us hungry enough not to care that the plot and frequent action feel a bit recycled.

A movie for hooligans, and do we really want to encourage them?

Clearly presents the charges against the MPAA, the "voluntary" group that has systematized Hollywood censorship.

Despite what you may have heard, World Trade Center isn't entirely apolitical, just understated in its commentary.

A terrifying triumph of hype, but...also the movie to preserve for all of Earth's recorded history Samuel L. Jackson lowering his gaze at Julianna Margulies and asking, "Sporks?" I dare you to look away.

Hard liquor goes in at the mouth, but when we're lucky, it comes out in the writer's grip.

When Angel brushes off Trumpy with the line 'Can the artist get a little space around here?', you may agree that the question deserves a qualified 'yes' answer.

Loses possession early on and has trouble holding onto the ball.

Knows it's a dumb movie and plugs ahead cheerily and without pretention...but the jokes quickly run thin.

By the end, I felt empty and unconvinced that I'd spent 103 minutes with genuine personalities.

Here's the pitch for Accepted: Animal House meets Ferris Bueller.

My, he's an uncouth roughneck, but perhaps, just perhaps I can mold his raw talent into the dance partner of my dreams!

The trick plot enabling this Electra Complex situation tragedy is somewhat novel, but surprisingly not enough to sustain even a 103-minute running time.

Brian DePalma's Before Sunset.

If your taste runs to scatology and you find little people inherently funny, Little Man may be the movie for you.

What About Bob this ain't.

The film's consistent ticklishness frequently breaks out into uproarious set pieces.

Another tale of an unlikely family dynamic showing the way for closed-minded conservatives, Quinceañera may be simplistic at heart, but its drama is reasonably effective.

The slippery natures of truth, fiction, lies, and wishful thinking...get full play in the screen adaptation of The Night Listener.

A lean, mean genre exercise for those who prefer their horror full-blooded.

Like his superhero, director Bryan Singer carries an Atlas-like burden [but]...with thorough, fan-friendly fetishism, Singer honors the Superman mythos.

A rubbernecker's movie....There's a new Zalman King in town, and his name is Lee Daniels.

Has an ace in its anthill...political allegory that separates this one from the pack.

Seems less a joyous return to innocence and more like the nightmares we have while contemplating the real-estate market.

I hated Lady in the Water, but not because Shyamalan took a sophomoric potshot at critics. I hated Lady in the Water because it's...stupid.

By design, nasty, brutish, and short...functions as drama because shock crosses through sensationalism to a kind of purity in the character study of a man in desperate need of repair.

A cinematic tone poem, wafting on wistful tableaus and sad faces....mostly elaborates on how death must ultimately be a personal experience.

The comedy misfires and the film winds up strangely...impenetrable.

An enlightening look back at how "the world's sport" briefly took off in the US.

Watching The War Tapes is a bit like sifting though puzzle pieces and studying the images, but it's possible to make at least some of those pieces fit.

The cut-rate production resulted in what Reeve termed "catastrophe" for a film intended to marry a serious message to the series' signature action, humor, and romance.

By its very nature, the resulting film is severely compromised, but still rip-roaring, unpretentious entertainment.

Reeve continues his traditions of graceful flying moves, confident carriage, and twinkly warmth. Sadly, none of it is enough to save Superman III from being at home only in a junkyard.

Donner keeps his film briskly funny and exciting, with smart and spectacular action....The greatest effect of all, however, is Reeve's miraculous performance.

A photo essay with moving pictures: anthropological snapshots of seven Salvadoran and Guatemalan skaters...[also] may be [Larry Clark's] most immature film.

The outlandish gags are usually good for at least a chuckle, and Colbert's left-field satire classes up the enterprise, but multiplying the tight sitcom half-hour by four may not be a science experiment worth repeating.

Even at under an hour, this children's fantasy is sluggishly paced by today's standards...but it does have its charms and a relevant social message at its core.

[The] uniquely Eastern European brand of absurdity recalls the work of Vaclav Havel, playwright and former President of Czechoslovakia. At least, it would be absurd if it weren't so credible.

Paine amasses evidence--including dissenting voices--that's consistently illuminating.

Pleasantly fluffy but depthless...each story develops a worst-case scenario that proceeds to a too-comforting, too-swift resolution.

If it rarely becomes more than a conventional Hollywood movie with conventional conflicts, at least it remembers to amuse, and has a force of nature in Streep.

The Lake House is made of glass, but the view straight through it is rather pleasant all the same.