''Logic is mocked, plot strands capriciously abandoned. Actors chew upholstery, and the heroine has so many 'Don't open that door, lady!' moments that the movie starts to play like an unintended parody of overblown hokum.'' (San Francisco Chronicle)
''Tries to set some kind of record for regurgitating sports movie cliches faster than any film that's run before.'' (LA Daily News)
''Might as well come with a bouncing ball so members of the audience can recite the dialogue along with the actors.'' (New York Times)
''The affair between them is tepid and squeaky-clean; when he's with her, the look on Reeves's face says, 'And you are . . . ?''' (Washington Post)
''Pure yucky mush.'' (Utah Transcript-Bulletin)
''Even if Reeves could act, his character as written would be flatter than a floppy disk.'' (Washington Post)
''Undramatic and unexciting computer-graphics special effects designed to show what's inside Reeves' head. On the evidence, there isn't much.'' (Variety)
''Watchable if you care for loudly fermenting garbage.'' (San Diego Union-Tribune)
''You can't buy Keanu as a sadist, but you do worry about the guys who wrote the screenplay.'' (Globe and Mail)
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