There’s so much discernible IP baked into Shawn Levy’s film to make its calls for artistic ingenuity feel hypocritical at best.
This buckaroo of a disc does not blow it on the image and sound front at least.
If it turned out to be Spielberg’s final film, it would make for a fitting final curtain call for his brand of escapism.
The aesthetic dexterity and psychological depth of Ang Lee’s Hulk is corrupted by Marvel’s reboot of the superhero franchise.
Did Zak Penn’s The Grand, an improvisational comedy set in the world of poker, cast itself?
Prepared to be stunned, because Brett Ratner does not completely sully your beloved mutants-versus-the-world franchise.
Note to E. Elias Merhige: Dude, lighten up!
Comic Book Guys can now rejoice: Now you can cream your pants in the privacy of your own home. I mean, your mom’s house.
Substituting titillating triumph for tragedy, this adaptation of Marvel Comics’s knife-wielding knockout comes across as hopelessly blunted.
Serial killer film flops are a dime a dozen, and Suspect Zero is worth slightly less than a penny.
Now that Dubya’s in control, a post-9/11 Hollywood is raring to tickle the president’s cave fetish.