A hodgepodge of horny-old-man clichés writ large, staged as a gleeful affirmation of its male lead’s ego and entitlement.
The film settles into a time-honored groove of so many forgettable juvenile comedies before it.
Whereas a single, stinging one-liner would have sufficed Tourneur or Lang, Miller’s overcompensating flood of pulpy dialogue only renders his characters flat and sans empathy.
The tawdriness of the 2010 film has been tempered substantially in Machete Kills.
It’s hard to exhibit anything other than pity toward Escape from Planet Earth.
If a hand up through the throat doesn’t quite do it for you, perhaps you’ll be better served by one inching out through an eyelid.
The film is so plain-faced and literal-minded in its juvenile pandering that it’s hard to dismiss it as a mere cash-in.
If an axe is nailed to the wall of a third-grade classroom in the first act, it must draw blood by the third.
Rodriguez loves grindhouse cinema, but you’d never know it from Machete, which seems more interested in mockery than homage.
Despite its title, Little Fockers barely features children. Other things it’s lacking include laughs, coherence, and a reason to exist.
A beautiful, fitfully successful film with another compelling Casey Affleck performance.
Robert Rodriguez’s films are so busy chuckling at their own supposed audacity that there’s no need for viewers to join in the revelry.
Casey Affleck executes an uncondescending, chilling turn as the methodical, coal-hearted Lou Ford.
An eyesore on the big screen, Valentine’s Day is now close to one on your TV. Go read The Sound and the Fury instead.
This period psychological thriller features two scenes of startling violence, but they’re far more unpleasant than shocking.
The film is about as personal and memorable as a seasonal card your significant other snatches up from a Duane Reade at the last minute.
As a writer, Mike Myers still hasn’t figured out how to make characters who aren’t just funny variations of himself.
You’d think that a horror story concerned with the unreliability of sight might at least try to generate scares via the use of visual trickery.
Dane Cook is not funny. Not at all. Not ever.
The film strains not for classical pop mythology but, instead, frivolous FX-laden adventure.