Charlie St. Cloud (review)

Poor Zac Efron: he’s at that awkward Movie Star stage. He’s got It: that indefinable onscreen charisma. But Hollywood doesn’t have a lot of options for him while he’s stuck in the postadolescent, not-quite-grownup phase.

Dinner for Schmucks (review)

It’s not so much *Dinner for Schmucks* as it is *Waiting for Dinner for Schmucks.* You know, like *Waiting for Godot,* only in reverse. Because the schmucks start showing up right as the damn movie starts, and they never go away.

Ramona and Beezus (review)

Oh, America. Keep your little girls away from *Ramona and Beezus.* For your little girls might get ideas into their heads. You know, dangerous ideas about using their imaginations. And about not giving in to bullies or the pressure to be predictable and conventional. And about the value and fun of being their own funky, original selves.

Salt (review)

*Salt* works. As in breathless-nonstop–action-intensity works. Oh, sure, it’s nutty-as-a-fruitcake insane at the same time, but being this hugely entertaining goes a long way toward making you not want to laugh at it.

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (review)

Lo and behold and WTF, here’s adorkable Jay Baruchel getting molested by dancing mops as the literal replication of a 70-year-old cartoon forces its way into a movie where it clashes tonally, interrupts the plot, and just plain makes no sense.