The opening credits for The A-Team go on for an inordinately long time—at least 10 minutes. We are introduced to the various members of the team—their names stamped across the screen in a bold font—in a flurry of action and dialogue that is meant to prepare us for the joy ride that is to follow. Except for one thing: The opening action is lame and the jokes are lamer. By the end of those credits, I wasn’t thinking, “Hell yeah, strap me in!” I was thinking, “Is it over yet?”

The A-Team is smugly convinced that it’s a wild ride—“the perfect blend of action and laughs” as one of the commercials touts—but it’s really just another busy, generic mess. I wasn’t a fan of the 70s cult TV show on which this film is based, so I’m not really able to compare.  But I can’t imagine any of the characters in this A-Team becoming beloved or iconic. If anything, the film actually diminishes the star power of some of its leads.

A miscast Liam Neeson seems adrift as the tough-as-nails Hannibal, who...

The Prince of Persia is not nearly as cheesy as Jake Gyllenhaal’s dopey haircut would lead you to believe.

Okay, he may look like some unholy cross between Fabio and Pocahontas, but the movie is mindlessly fun, befitting a film based on a video game.

The plot—oh, is this really even necessary?—involves a special sand filled dagger that can turn back time. Jake’s Prince Dastan has been framed for murdering his adopted father—the king—and he must secure the dagger and clear his name, a beautiful princess in tow, natch.

There’s Ben Kingsley sneering Iago-style as Jake’s uncle, the brother of the king; Alfred Molina hamming it up amusingly as a greedy sheik; and the lovely Gemma Arterton as the aforementioned princess, a woman so stunning, she makes grown men gasp.

Mostly it involves a super buff Jakey, clearly having much more fun than gloomy Russell Crowe down the multiplex hall inRobin Hood, jumping from buildings (apparently parkour is a big part of the video game) and getting into sword fights and rolling...

In my imagination, director Ridley Scott watched the classic Errol Flynn Robin Hood as a boy and sat there with his arms folded, considering a tantrum.

“That is wrong! wrong! wrong!” little Ridley fulminated, his beanie askew. “The dialect is wrong, the politics are wrong, and men did not wear tights!”

At that moment, he vowed to one day make a serious, grown-up, historically accurate version of Robin Hood.

And damned if that’s not exactly what he did.

To say that Scott managed to zap all the fun out of the endearing folkloric hero would be a bit extreme.

You just can’t go wrong Little John, Maid Marion, and Friar Tuck. But he comes pretty darn close.

For starters, he cast Russell Crowe as Robin Hood. Crowe definitely has that leader of men thing down, but he is not light on his feet, his eyes are more suited for smoldering than twinkling, and—how can I put this gently?—he’s too damn old to play Robin. Especially when you consider that this movie is prequel of...

When it comes to the sequel of a beloved summer box office hit, perhaps the most we can hope for is this: That a reasonable person might argue that the second one is better than the first.

No, I don’t personally think Iron Man 2 is better than Iron Man. But it’s not an outlandish perspective. And that’s saying a lot.

Of course, the success of Iron Man begins and ends with Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark, the billionaire playboy/inventor who dons the titanium suit and becomes a one-man militia. Once again, Downey Jr. brings his own brand of antic charm to the role. He’s a cut-up, a renegade, a narcissist. But he has a brooding neediness, too, that makes him a worthy romantic hero.

The person who’s doing the swooning in this case is Gwyneth Paltrow’s Pepper Potts, although she’s a little less dewy-eyed and a little more take-charge this time around (Stark has appointed her CEO of Stark Industries.)

Paltrow has taken a break from acting to raise her children, and I’d forgotten what a good leading lady...