| Review | Movie |
| The ease with which the group falls back into their old patterns...after an awkwardly long period of separation is narratively convenient, but not really probable. | |
| The film's Karen Blixen is part Scarlett O'Hara fighting to save Tara, part insensitive tourist marveling at the quaint customs of the local folk. | |
| Hamstrung by...the disastrous casting of Robert De Niro and...strain of shooting in the Colombian jungle, director Roland Joffe has come up with an indigestible lump of sanctimony. | |
| To call this the weakest of the three movies is like calling Fredo the weakest of the three brothers. Duh. | |
| Once Dunbar...starts strutting around with a feather stuck in his hair, the movie teeters on the edge of Boy's Life literature, that is, on the brink of earnest silliness. | |
| Lowenstein isn't so much a character as a chance for Streisand to showboat, to play a godlike healer and a pampered love object at the same time. | |
| Reduces the tumult of the last few decades to a virtual-reality theme park: a baby-boomer version of Disney's America. | |
| At times the film seems an obsessive ode to Mel Gibson machismo. | |
| The actors are all dreadfully earnest, none more so than [Tobey] Maguire, who seems to be channeling Forrest Gump. | |
| Coffey is a holy fool, and by emphasizing the man's shambling, menacing, big-buck hulkiness, Darabont comes uncomfortably close to racial stereotyping. | |
| | Review | Movie |
| Like binging on a bottomless box of truffles: Tastes good and sweet at first, but after a while, you start feeling a little green. | |
| Add the beefy, brooding Crowe for a hint of contemporary angst and stir in some World Wrestling Federation-level mayhem. Serve tepid. | |
| Like being stuck inside a kaleidoscope for two hours while a madman plays a calliope next to your ear. | |
| The 1860s New York sets…are amazing. Too bad the dull characters keep blocking our view of them. | |
| In trying to preserve all the components of Hillenbrand's book, Ross veers fatally off course. The end result is as flatulent as an old nag, and stinks almost as bad. | |
| By attempting to say everything about race, Haggis ultimately says nothing. | |
| Alejandro González Iñárritu’s latest sprawling, dispersed art-film blockbuster prompts a question: Does he just not know how to tell a story? | |
| Works in a...debate about 'the question of German guilt,' [but what it's] really interested in is the question of German sex. So think of it as 'Schindler's Lust.' | |
| Who knew that F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story would end up on the screen as a three-hour Botox ad? | |
| In every scene, Oher is instructed, lectured, comforted, or petted like a big puppy; he is merely a cipher. | |
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