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I really enjoy come-from-behind sports films: KARATE KID, McFARLAND USA, HOOSIERS, MIRACLE. This film's trailer had that quality.

What is delivered is a film that can't multi-task, has gaping holes and painful questions that are not resolved, and fails to strongly define an army of characters.

Act 1 starts off promising, local stare returns home and faces a town full of people who seem not to ahve moved on.

Act 2 turns into a "church fixes everything" saga, but there is a crisis situation and the main character's response -- or lack thereof -- is never explained.

Act 3 truncates a sports champion film and hangs it on the end. Sadly, there is zero resolution for the host of other characters. There is a little congratulatory cheer and then it just ends.

There are truly some likeable actors in what amount to a series of extended cameos -- there is no fabric to this film, it is not a woven piece, but a collection of bits. The actors are underserved by a script that rarely ventures below the surface; and when it tries, the effort is one-off. Listing off subplots and dramas would reveal what seems like a checklist, not an intricate interplay of realistic lives and characters.

Obviously a foreign production, many a desperate actor has gone outside the Screen Actors Guild union for work, which is grounds for expulsion or massive fines.

Neither actor has the looks which fueled his rise to fame, so the answer is "substance." While Brendan Fraser has exhibited advanced acting skills with directors such as Bill Condon or Paul Haggis, his instinctive acting choices are sadly broad and seem to rely on a physicality and youth he no longer possesses.

Tom Welling has always been an acting ingenue and didn't bother to hone his skills. While he's still a handsome man, there is no maturity. Even his verbal delivery lacks maturity.

For those who gave this stinker scores of 8 or 10, the stars are grateful to you.

I am giving it a 2: a point for trying and point out of pity.

It is sad when the most intriguing parts of a film are the vintage cars and hotel carpeting.

It's a shame the makers of this film ever invoked the name of David Bowie. It wasn't required by the script, and at the top of the film it is disclaimed as "mostly fiction."

Johnny Flynn as David Jones/Bowie presents an image I don't associate with Bowie: childish, kind of stupid, lacking direction or drive. We take a really long road trip with him and his road manager, and his flashbacks and daydreams add up to nothing much. I feel for Flynn. I think his role is poorly written and misdirected.

Mark Maron does a fine job as Oberman, Bowie's road manager. Perhaps the story would have been interesting told from hisp erspective -- what he saw and heard. Instead, the film tells about things it doesn't seem to know much about. It's mostly surface.

The parade of anecdotes lead nowhere, several music writers pass through to little effect.

Jena Malone delivers, but her wig is bad and distracting... and what happened to the big bump in her dress? I guess we'll never know. Nothing unites her character while pregnant with the slender post-birth iteration.

This film does not excel at complete ideas.

The characters in this film are fully formed and totally understandable.

While some struggle to understand, others seem self-protective: if they can't understand something, it must be wrong.

At the center is a stunning young actor whose performance is heart-wrenching. His character exists in a battlefield and it impacted my heart because of its honest observance, not because of movie manipulations.

Looks amazing, sounds fantastic; and the costumes are nothing short of glorious. But this film needs to head back to the cutting room and loose about 30 minutes.

with John Legend as producer, it's no surprise that the voices are impressive. The musical numbers and choreography top notch.

The combination of digital animation and live action is seamless.

But this film feels heavy and by the end of it, we were carrying kids to bed.

Connor Keesling wrote, directs and stars in this two-person opus that drags on for 2-1/2 hours.

The story takes place over one evening, is very talky and reveals two very unremarkable characters. Keesling isn't equipped with the self-awareness to draw a performance from himself that a director might have.

Keesling's vocal delivery is mumbling, nasal and whining. Julia Dent, Keesling's co-star, is likely unremarkable. As presented in this film, she would be difficult to describe in a way that someone would be able to find her in a lunchtime restaurant dining room. They're both studies in plainness.

Both keesling and Dent have several short film credits, which begs the issue of why this film runs so long and lacks any sense of economy or strategic editing.

It's a remarkable flexion of ego on Keesling's part to subject viewers to a project for which he is totally responsible, from concept to execution. He doesn't risk anything in this film, but he indulges himself to what seems like a rude degree.

If you live for judges' comments and reaciont shots on talent shows, this is for you! This show offers nothing, other than fake agonizing, people thinking too hard about nothing, and singers dressed up against type.

The title should be a Literine commercial: "I can see your voice: better brush and gargle!"

This show is listerally televized halitosis.

In a nutshell, this movie comes on like a plate bearing tasty morsels, that are pushed off behind your back. The plate is placed in front of you with the announcement: "Come again, there will be more."

My response, "I'm still hungry." This film leaves you starving. After the initial sights and smells, there is nothing. Not one bite.

THE CRAFT: LEGACY spends a lot of time building up interest in characters who ultimately go nowhere. They simply stop. Not once does the plot circle back to sew up holes. It just plods forward.

Excellent youth cast. Four young witches I was amped to get to know, but nothing. Three brothers who are very intriguing and whose characters ultimately go nowhere. Then there's "Timmy," played by the sublime Nicholas Galatzine, whose character undergoes spectacular development, but whose fate plays out in the wings... off-stage... and it's never even addressed in flashback or "strange visions" whose mystery is revealed later.

THE CRAFT: LEGACY is cursed by lazy plot construction.

Then there's David Duchovny, who has become the creep from Central Casting, and this film takes him in expected directions. He is boring in a bland role. The reports of addiction and alcoholism have played out on Duchovny's face, which is heavily creased and puffy, like a Shar Pei dog.

I endured the end-credits, thinking there must be more.

I was excited to see this, as it's Eddie Izzard's first co-written screenplay. I found it very predictable. One protracted chase comes across as unintentionally funny. Another series of dramatic moments during shoot-outs are disappointingly predictable -- as if adapted from dated material and not reworked.

Izzard is excellent, as is Dench. D'arcy's character is strangely under-developed. There is no mention whether the story is based on a true story from IFC or other project announcements, so my assumption is that it is not.

The "close calls" in the film are an "embarrassment of riches," which in detective lingo, indicates fraudulence. Unfortunately, SIX MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT suffers from such an underlying impression.

The performances by Pilon, Gaffigan and Hartnett are riveting, but this film has a glaring flaw: the story couldn't be told in 2:05. The first 3/4 of the film lay out an astonishing scenario and criminal blundering. Great set-up, but too much to be resolved in the remaining 20 minutes.

And WHY is the first half of this film hand-held, and seemingly by a cameraperson suffering seizures? It's not clever, effective, helpful or forgivable.

The end feels truncated, chopped, and like the other film with this same blundering flaw, THE BANKER. It felt like time and money ran out, so the storytelling just stops.

Gaffigan plays against type and succeeds brilliantly. Pilon brings no baggage and is utterly convincing. It's a shame there's an eight-year leap in his character's story. Josh Hartnett once again proves that his hiatus was perfectly timed -- the 90s heartthrob bowed out for a spell and has turned in solid performances ever since returning.

Bravo to the TRICKSTER creators for bringing together modern, relatable, strong actors of Canadian First Nation heritage. I'm only one episode in, but this show has what so many similar "eerie" and "spooky" shows lack: a stealthy sense of humor.

One moment you're gasping and then something happens and you chuckle involuntarily. Not a big sitcom laff, but a really well-timed and welcome break in tension.

I don't recognize any of the actors and overall the characters they create are solid, dimensional and believable.

I really wanted to love this film, but after shelling out $4.99 on Prime to see it, my take is that this film is full of IDEAS about Cuba and Cubans through the lens of an American writer and a Canadian/Italian director.

The flashbacks are impressive flashy caricatures, but lack authenticity. Unfortunately so are many of the present-day characters.

This film strives to manipulate emotions, which sometimes works, and frequently tastes like sugary LifetimeTV soda pop left out overnight: lukewarm and lacking fizz.

There are wonderful performances by a brilliant cast, but the script lets them down.

This is a valiant effort from novice writer/director and a cast of mostly first-timers, but there is so much reenacted material that is simply weak and doesn't propel the story. I'm guessing that writer/director David Risotto had a heavy hand in editing, although others are credited as editor and assistant editor.

What drew me to the film and kept me watching is the strength of the story itself.This property deserves a stronger treatment.

I'm a huge fan of SEX AND THE CITY, so I was prepared to suspend disbelief, but this show asks too much.

Reference is frequently made to "An American In Paris," but a more apt comparison would be, "A Big Mac among French cuisine."

A lead who, though charming, is supposedly a business whiz kid; but she constantly bursts in because that's how Americans are: loud and boorish.

Supposedly Emily is sent from the company who acquired the French firm, but the purpose isn't quite clear considering the expense of relocating her to Paris. The in-office treatment just doesn't make sense -- she's from the "head office," the French team should be kissing her American rear.

Why she doesn't crash study French s a big question mark. She's still blabbing "Bone Jurrr" into the sixth episode.

Lastly, why in 2020 is Emily only able to be intimate after getting drunk? And where are the gays?

I'm not mad at this show, but I didn't love it.

This film starts off great, loses some steam in the middle when a great deal of time is spent panicking and freaking out.

Sadly, the ending "twist" I found disappointing. Not quite the cop-out of waking up to realize it's all a dream, but I felt a similar letdown.

Elijah Wolf is a fascinating child actor and his expressive range is creepily precocious.

Lead actor Thekla Reuten is a strong performer, but the script has her repeating the same actions too often. There is one clip of her cahracter that is repeated twice. If that same kind of replay repeititon had been used -- perhaps from various angles -- it might have supported what eventually happens.

Had I watched the third act first, I wouldn't have watched the beginning or middle to get there.

The premise and oft-mentioned "twist" are interesting, but the filmmakers failed by not conquering the burning question of "HOW" the situation in the film occurred.

Ther transformation is missing, and it is as unforgivable as having a character "wake up to realize it was all a dream."

Like Frankenstein's monster without the laboratory and lightning, or Cinderella without the Fairy Godmother, ANTEBELLUM doesn't go the distance to tell its story.

This jaunty sea shanty with a wonderful love story of classic proportions: enchantment and embrace, opposition, tragedy and redemption. It's intriguing that such a unique, non-commercial tune reached Top 100 lists in England, Scotland and Australia. I first heard it played on BBC1 radio with the host announcing it was his favorite music video in a long time.

The production is very impressive: a vintage-style stage with hand-crafted set pieces that move in and out to change scenes as the action unfolds. It appears to be filmed in one long take.

Cosmo Jarvis and co-star are committed and that makes the song story even more poignant. I love playing this video for people -- gay or not, they are impressed and moved.

TWELVE DAYS has three or four moments, which padded out should last about 8-10 minutes. At almost 90 minutes, it's a testament to the downside of digital filming: There's no expense to contain half-baked ideas.

Throughout the film I kept wondering what kind of pizza followed that scene. TWELVE DAYS feels like a lot of theater friends knocked themselves out projecting to the back rows.

I was hoping there would be triumphs along the way. Instead, the forced humor, mug-pulling and over-animated antics are exhausting to watch.

Overprivileged White family with bickering siblings and a dying mom: there is little that is new with this. A remake of SENSE & SENSIBILITY can't be far behind.

Susan Sarandon brings nothing new, which is expected and still disappointing. Even surrounded by a shockingly top-drawer cast, Sarandon manages to keep this from punching its way out of its genre.

As expected, Sam Neill, Kate Winslet and Lindsay Duncan deliver top-flight performances without leaving newer actors in the dust. They are generous co-stars.

Glad I saw this once, but I doubt I'll revisit it as I've done with other "fatality of the week" films. The upside: this film addresses the right of a terminally ill person to chart their course with dignity.

Anyone hoping for a prequel to ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST will be disappointed by this iteration of AMERICAN HORROR STORY -- right down to Finn Whitrock and Sarah Paulson.

This has qualities of being adapted from a graphic novel.

The opening scenes should have been a bloodbath, but Whitrock doesn't have a splash on his maniacally-grinning self.

The gleaming classic cars look hired, the impeccable sets are dreamy and unrealistic, the costumes-hair-makeup are Technicolor wow.

It all adds up to another eye-popping bore.

Above and beyond other prime time soaps, THE HEIGHTS features characters and situations that are unique and engaging. There are also a few situations that seem familiar and highly feasible, but they're well-crafted and not cop-outs.

There is also a great deal of economy to THE HEIGHTS. Well paced and carefully assembled, this never feels like writers are "padding" episodes to fill the time. On the contrary: it feels like they could have used a dozen more episodes to fully explore the characters they've created and the lives they are living.

It also feels like the characters actually live, even when they're not onscreen. This was pointed out to me with superior serials such as SIX FEET UNDER, THE CODE, PRISONER'S WIVES, RIPPER STREET: the characters have lives.

The two leads are magnetic, but there's no chemistry between them.

Geraldine Viswanathan needed to be dialed down. She rolls her big eyes a lot, and is constantly doing little victory dances with her arms in the air.

Aussie/NZ hunk Dacre Montgomery is matinee-idol dreamy, down to the mustache, goatee and wavy thick dark hair.

The two of them are in different modes: he evokes a smooth, accessible mood; she pulls rubber chickens out of her bra. I'm sure they'd both be fabulous with a better co-star.

A trio of girlfriends could have been trend-setting, except that instead of creating a new mix of individuals, they excude "three mouthy girls" from almost any romantic comedy. What a missed opportunity.

What bothered me most were odd details, such as collecting abandoned velvet-upholstered furniture from the sidewalk. If something like that is curbside, it's probably bedbug infested.

Then there's the vast gallery space. I did a google: Retail space in the Big Apple goes for $75-$2000/square foot, and business build-outs happen in a hurry, because TIME = MONEY.

I just couldn't buy it.

My ultimate measure is whether I'd see it again. Nope.

I was drawn to this film because I'm a huge fan of Jessie Buckley, David Thewlis and Toni Collette. I can even handle cerebral film projects if there are enough breadcrumbs to help me through.

Director Charlie Kaufman hasn't been so kind this time around and I'm not going to pretend I'm super-cool and that I "found something" buried in this cacophony of loaded scenes.

I read several glowing reviews, hoping to find clues to what I just watched. The word OBTUSE was used in every review, along with UNSOLVABLE RIDDLE and PERPLEXING LABYRINTH.

Sure wish I'd read those reviews in advance, I might have skipped the film or contemplated viewing it while stoned. Instead, I spent two tedious hours cataloging words, glances and actions that MIGHT be meaningful later... but generally were not.

Theron is a skilled actor and it's almost tragic to see her shoehorned into the ultra-fembot-killing-machine. There's nothing groundbreaking or new here.

A mouthy newcomer earning her chops is a good twist, but not new. Will there ever be a fledgling sidekick who isn't a smartass, who doesn't talk back, and who honestly seems to grasp the gravity of the situation?

In the end, they have to become "one of the guys."

Oh, and Baklava doesn't have pomegranate in it. Oops!

After watching the trailer, LIBERAL ME was fraught with questions. The documentarians wisely anticipated them and provided answers right away -- but not directly: a lot of participants had the same questions as I.

I went through an entire gamut of emotion watching this: mental challenges and torture. BOYS STATE rather easily won me over for its observation, balance and unbelieveable coherence amid the chaos of chronicling 1100 teen males playing politics for one week in Texas. I don't know how many subjects were followed before whittling down to the featured voices in this documentary, but they hit the jackpot.

Plenty of whooping and push-ups, the testosterone overdose is unavoidable - even down to one candidate proclaiming "Our masculinity will not be compromised." The lack of females was infuriating -- Boys Town absolutely felt like a training ground where males do not consider female voices or concerns.

There are subjects who are already informed, dignified and striving for social improvement; which I found heartening. There are also those who have picked up tactics of crowd motivation, manipulation and the mechanics of smear, and that's chilling.

Girls have a similar program conducted separately. That was my main issue. Run by the American Legion, the organization of mostly right-wing veterans hasn't seen fit to integrate the two. In BOYS STATE, teenage males are spouting misinformation about abortion and they aren't countered because of the overwhelmingly conservative leaning of the Texas teens - including one who admits he is pro-choice, but closeted about it.

There are speeches; but if there are debates, they aren't shown. I'm guessing there are not, because of the 12th hour lies that were told.

BOYS STATE is an astonishing look into one particular event and its participants. Although I was curious about the Left/Right leanings of past election winners, the makers of this doc kept it lean, pertinent and well-paced.

Past Boys State participants include Samuel Alito and Cory Booker. Watching this almost felt like seeing a future Obama or Beto O'Rourke who hopes for unity and consensus, and a future Karl Rove or Mitch McConnell who eagerly sacrifices principle for victory.