It would have been torturous enough if the movie “Dinner for Schmucks” had remained truthful to its title and only forced us to sit through a single meal and maybe a couple of drinks. Instead, director Jay Roach (“Meet the Parents,” “Austin Powers” trilogy) extends the idiot-filled evening into a collection of unbearably tacky scenarios that might have worked better as an episode of “SpongeBob SquarePants.”

Sure, it’s obvious certain things need to lead up to a dinner with a bunch of sad-sack morons, but what Roach and screenwriting partners David Guion and Michael Handelman (“The Ex”) come up with makes the hilariously daft “Dumb and Dumber” feel like a thinking-man’s movie.

Cast in the least of these cartoonish roles is Paul Rudd. Rudd plays Tim, a bottom-feeding analyst in the corporate world who sees an opportunity to climb the totem pole when his company fires one of their top executives. When Tim makes an impression on his boss Lance (Bruce Greenwood) by introducing the company to a potential billionaire client, Tim is invited to attend a top secret dinner held every month for the company big wigs.

At these dinners, executives are asked to bring the strangest guest they can find so he or she can be insulted throughout the night. While the idea goes against Tim’s strict moral code, he decides he can’t pass up a chance at a promotion especially now that his girlfriend Julie (Stephanie Szostak) is at the brink of finally accepting his marriage proposal. When she finds out about the dinner, however, she isn’t pleased.

The schmuck himself comes in the form of Barry (Steve Carell), a normal-enough looking guy whose remarkable qualities come from his taxidermy work. Basically, Barry stuffs dead mice, dresses them in costumes, and places them into dioramas for display. Barry calls his creations “mousterpieces.” Although Tim finds his odd hobby disgusting, he also sees it as a way to impress the execs and invites Barry to his dinner for dummies in hopes of landing a corner office.

Barry, however, misunderstands dinner plans and shows up at Tim’s apartment a day early. This is where the botched comedy of manners begins as Barry manages to muddle up Tim’s life in less than 24 hours. He starts by inviting Tim’s psycho one-night-stand to his apartment and continues by talking Tim into thinking Julie is cheating on him with a ridiculous artist (Jemaine Clement of TV’s “Flight of the Conchords”). Who knew schmucks could be so influential?

Like Jim Carrey’s Lloyd Christmas and Jeff Daniel’s Harry Dunne in “Dumb and Dumber,” Barry lacks an awareness of his idiocy, but does so less convincingly. In “Dumbe,r” when Harry thinks Aspen is located in California, it’s funny. In “Schmucks,” when Barry drags out a joke about believing Tim invented the saying, “Everything happens for a reason,” it’s not. Even if someone could be that clueless, “Schmucks” begs us to have sympathy for these characters and learn something from the mean-spirited narrative.

At times unbearable to watch, “Dinner for Schmucks” is disguised as a movie with profound life lessons about friendship and acceptance. If you really get swindled into believing this comedy has heart, please raise your hand. There’s this dinner I’d like to invite you to.

Aptly named “Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore” in reference to the character played by actress Honor Blackman in 1964’s “Goldfinger,” the new talking-animal sequel doesn’t have nearly enough bark or bite for anyone to take notice. Despite the number of James Bond references director Brad Payton and screenwriters Ron J. Friedman and Steve Bencich try to inject into it, the spoof is still as annoying, useless, and lightweight as the pet dander you’d find fused to a couch cushion.

In “Kitty Galore,” a sequel to the first film in 2001, Bette Midler lends her voice to the title character, a hairless, villainous feline who has come up with a dastardly plan to turn all the dogs of the world against his or her owners by broadcasting a high-pitched sound that will cause all canines to go insane.

Enter the team of secret cat and dog spies who put aside their differences and join forces to stop Kitty before she takes over the world. This includes Diggs (James Marsden), a former hot-shot police dog who is released from the force for his risky behavior; Butch (Nick Nolte), a snippy old hound who recruits him; and Catherine (Christina Applegate), a stealthy cat with ninja skills. Even a pigeon named Seamus (Katt Williams) joins up as a feathered informant who might be able to lead them to the bad kitty.

As far as talking-animal movies go, “Kitty Galore” could be worse. Remember the fluffy special agent gerbils in the terrible animated movie “G-Force” last year? At least “Kitty” is able to use a combination of real and CGI pets instead of relying completely on computers to create their heroes. Some of the dogs are huggable enough to capture a kindergartener’s attention, but without any real humor and charm coming from any of these fuzzy characters, it’s difficult to defend a movie that simply refuses to be even a bit original.

Instead, Peyton’s only concern is in how many 007 jokes and references he can squeeze into the short 75-minute runtime (even Roger Moore cheapens his link to Bond to be part of this). After those fail, Peyton goes for the obvious, witless gags: cat nip, dogs sniffing butts, fur balls. There’s even an uncreative parody of “Silence of the Lambs” that turns up for no real reason except to maybe jolt parents from dozing off by giving them something they’d recognize.

As easily forgettable as the original, “Kitty Galore” will trigger some reaction from the youngest moviegoers (probably in the form of “look at the doggy, mommy!”), but even a caboodle full of cute kittens isn’t reason enough to drag the entire family out for a weekend matinee.

It would be impossible to dismiss Michael Winterbottom’s “The Killer Inside Me” wholeheartedly because of the solid albeit sometimes babbly performance by lead actor Casey Affleck or the stylish film noir environment created by Dutch cinematographer Marcel Zyskind (“A Might Heart”), but what little substance and emotional pull the controversial picture has is quickly lost even before Winterbottom’s intentions are fully revealed.

In “The Killer Inside Me,” Affleck, who earned an Oscar nomination for playing another killer in 2007’s “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” stars as Lou Ford, a well-respected sheriff in the 1950s who is suspected in a string of killings in a small West Texas town. The murders begin with Joyce Lakeland (Jessica Alba), a known prostitute who Lou is having a sadomasochistic affair with after demanding she leave town.

Thorough flashbacks, we find that Lou’s mental problems stem from scarring events he experienced as a young boy. When he meets Joyce, who is open to violent sexual encounters, things start boiling over. Left waiting in the wings is Lou’s wife Amy (Kate Hudson), who is clueless to her husband’s indiscretions and psychopathic tendencies.

Intertwined in the sex, secrets, and sadism is a weak narrative about blackmail and corruption. Nothing, however, is as remotely interesting as trying to pin down what director Winterbottom is actually doing when he turns these curious fetishes into scenes of ultra-violent rage. If these scenarios are supposed to make viewers feel uncomfortable, they succeed. If they’re supposed to answer questions about Lou’s vicious character, they don’t.

What we’re left with is a thriller without much suspense and characterizations that fall by the wayside in favor of brutality that offers little to the script at hand. A film should never be penalized for being “too violent” especially if it enhances elements of the story. “The Killer Inside Me,” however, simply flaunts its ability to disturb, which makes it seem desperate to evoke some kind of sensation more than anything.

While you might know the name Coco Chanel for the groundbreaking fashion she created starting in the early 20th century, there’s never been a story that has been bold enough to enter darker and more elusive territory about the iconic designer like “Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky,” a film adaptation of the 2002 fictional novel “Coco & Igor” by Chris Greenhalgh.

Set in Paris in 1913, Coco (Anna Mouglalis) is quickly mesmerized when she attends Russian composer Igor Stravinsky’s ballet “Rite of Spring,” a piece deemed far too radical for audiences used to traditional performances like “Swan Lake.” Affected by his music that evening, Coco sees the same confidence in Igor that led her to become most sought after fashion designers at that time.

It would take seven years before Chanel and Stravinsky would cross paths again. Coco, who was mourning the death of her lover Boy Capel, invites Igor (Mads Mikkelsen), his ill wife Catherine (Elena Morozova), and their children to stay with her at her country villa where Igor can have the peace and quite he needs to work. Displaced by the Russian Revolution, Igor and his family have fallen on hard times. It doesn’t take long before Igor and his new financer to begin their alleged (depends on what biography you read) sexual relationship during the Stravinsky family’s stay.

As the affair continues between Coco and Igor, a physically and emotionally weathered Catherine is left to watch it unfold right before her eyes. Featuring Coco in a much more scandalous light than in recent films like last year’s “Coco Before Chanel,” Mouglalis brings an underlying sense of mischief not examined before in Coco’s character. Along with the affair, her authoritative personality is brought to the forefront through scenes where Coco is shown working stringently as a designer to ensure her brand’s perfection.

Through minimal dialogue, beautiful cinematography, bigger-than-life characters, and a captivating score by Oscar winner Gabriel Yared (“The English Patient”), the illicit love story in “Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky” – whether it actually happened or not – is a fresh take on two of the century’s most influential artists that will distinguish it from other biographies that opt for a more subdued narrative.

It might be a studio’s biggest nightmare when a megastar like Tom Cruise drops out of your potential summer blockbuster, but when you’re able to secure someone with just as much celebrity power as Oscar winner Angelina Jolie, having to go back and rework the script to read “she” instead of “he” is a welcomed endeavor. (Yes, we realize there is probably much more to it than simply replacing pronouns, but it is well-received news nonetheless).

While screenwriter Kurt Wimmer (“Law Abiding Citizen,” “Street Kings”) was able to adjust his script according to gender for the film “Salt,” he doesn’t take the opportunity during the rewriting phase to fill in any of the plot holes or enhance some of the foolish dialogue. Despite its shortcomings, however, “Salt” is entertaining, unpredictable and a much-needed albeit moderate kick to the less-than-stellar mainstream summer action flick lineup. Even on that thinly-built frame of hers, Jolie can still carry a movie on her own.

When CIA officer Evelyn Salt (Jolie) is pegged as an undercover spy by a Russian defector, her escape from custody leads to lively foot chases, illogical assassination plots, and some terribly choreographed fight scenes. On her trail are her friend and colleague Ted Winter (Live Schreiber), who assumes she is innocent, and counter-intelligence officer Peabody (the always reliable Chiwetel Ejiofor), who does not.

The ambiguity of Evelyn’s character is what keeps the pace of the film at frenzied levels. It’s also what makes it so fun despite its number of implausible scenes. Still, it is nice to have a hero who isn’t tweaking on testosterone or afraid to break a nail. When Jolie is leaping off highways and onto the tops of semi-trucks it’s kind of hard not to pay attention.

Directed by Phillip Noyce, who is best known for a couple of those Harrison Ford-as-Jack Ryan flicks back in the 90s (his best work are his more dramatic films like “The Quiet American” and “Rabbit-Proof Fence”), “Salt” might feel like another Jason Bourne offering at times. But with Jolie taking the lead there is a distinctive dynamic that comes with featuring a female Hollywood sex symbol that can kick as much butt as the boys.

As far as ridiculous thrillers go, it’s highly unlikely the summer is going to produce anything with more flavor than “Salt.” But even if films like “The Expendables” or “Machete” do end up proving to be more enjoyable, there definitely won’t be a scene in either movie where Sylvester Stallone or Danny Trejo do what Jolie does and outmaneuvers their adversaries with a pair of panties.

Based on the crime novel by late Swedish journalist Stieg Larsson, “The Girl Who Played with Fire” is the second installment of his popular Millennium trilogy. The series, which centers on a young, gothic computer hacker named Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace), started with the disturbing and highly-compelling “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” and will end with “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.” With a different director and screenwriter than “Tattoo,” “Fire,” unfortunately, falters.

In “Fire,” Lisbeth goes on the run when she is suspected of a triple murder. One of the victims is a journalist who works with Lisbeth’s friend Mikael (Michael Nyqvist). He is executed when he is on the verge of releasing a magazine article on sex trafficking that implicates a number of criminals involved in the ring.

Unable to stand on its own, it really is mandatory to see “Tattoo” before aimlessly walking into the second movie. Without the fascinating background, it’s impossible to get a sense of the characters and their motivations. While “Fire” does reveal some history about where Lisbeth’s anger and vengeful nature stems from, the depth of these once unshakeable personalities is less intriguing in round two.

A character like Lisbeth deserves so much more from a script built around her edginess and independence. Whether we’ll see that from Rapace and screenwriters in the final installment or in the future American remake of “Tattoo” by director David Fincher (“The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”) is still unclear, but what we do know is “Tattoo” set the bar high and it’s going to take a whole lot more than the cliché plot and twists in “Fire” to find its footing once again.

A lighthearted, deadpan and overall stagnant Serbian romantic comedy, “Here and There” wagers all its effectiveness on whether or not its lead character Robert (David Thornton) will transform from a sneering killjoy into someone who can squeeze out an occasional smile without fracturing a hip.

While the empty smirks come in small spurts, Thornton fails to make Robert a sympathetic character or mold him into the thriving man first-time feature director/writer Darko Lungulov would have liked him to become.

In “Here and There,” Robert, a cynical New York City musician short on cash, decides to travel to Russia to earn some money by marrying a Serb (Jelena Mrdja) and bringing her back to her boyfriend Branko (Branislav Trifunovic) in the U.S.

Things, of course, do not work out as planned when Branko can’t come up with the $5,000 he owes Robert. Consequently, Robert is trapped in Serbia where he is staying with Branko’s mother Olga (Mirjana Karanovic) until the immigration paperwork is completed.

Although Robert and Olga’s relationship starts off a bit rocky (she irritates him by washing his clothes without asking for permission) their shared loneliness gives them both reason to seek out happiness with one another. It’s a relationship reminiscent of the one between the culturally-diverse characters Richard Jenkins and Hiam Abbass portray in 2007’s “The Visitor,” but without the warmth and genuine moments of companionship.

It is evident Lungulov would like “Here and There” to be a sort of love letter to Belgrade, but the quirkiness doesn’t come across as charming nor does Robert’s appreciation for life seem all that revolutionary. He might clean up nicely (with the exception of that feral, feathered mane) and does give his best impression of a love-struck teenager, but his apathetic attitude during his most life-affirming moments casts an unappealing shadow on the entire narrative.

While most wine connoisseurs might think twice about drinking a glass of Cabernet made by a musician who is famous for singing the lyrics to such songs as “Stinkfist,” “Ticks and Leeches,” and “Hooker with a Penis,” Tool frontman Maynard James Keenan is doing everything he can to dispel his rock star persona in preference of his new winemaking passion. In the documentary “Blood into Wine,” filmmakers Christopher Pomerenke and Ryan Page follow Keenan through the winemaking process in Arizona where he owns a winery and vineyard.

“Blood into Wine” isn’t a story about some rich, entitled celebrity with so much time on his hands that he decided to bottle some wine one day and peddle it for profit. Realizing he is in the twilight of his full-time performance career, Keenan is now dedicating himself to a new venture that will make him equally as happy as when he is on stage.

“I don’t necessarily want to scream my whole life,” Maynard says during the film to describe one of the reasons making wine will soon define him as a person.

Through funny, inspiring, educational and sometimes emotional interviews with historians, wine makers, music fans, Hollywood stars, and Maynard himself, Pomerenke and Page have taken the complexity of the winemaking industry and eliminated the stereotypical snobbery associated with the process.

“Blood into Wine” is a solid and well-researched documentary for both lovers of wine and Keenan. We’re not certain what a diverse party like that would actually look like, but if it is anywhere as entertaining as “Blood into Wine” take down our RSVP now before someone makes a toast.

Filmmaker Christopher Nolan is known for the complex worlds he creates, but nothing can prepare you for the trippy and surreal adventure he guides us through with “Inception,” the seventh feature film from the London-born director whose narratives sometimes feel like the cinematic equivalent of mathematical proof theories.

Unlike filmmaker David Lynch (“Blue Velvet”) who can become nonsensical at times, Nolan provides us with all the answers. While there is some wiggle room for interpretation, Nolan’s approach is more forthright. Still, if his other films like “Memento” and “The Prestige” required a couple of viewings before everything really added up, it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone if mainstream moviegoers walk out of his latest intricate offering with looks of bewilderment. It might be as frustrating as it is awe-inspiring, but there’s no doubt once you stitch the pieces together it’s remarkable.

In “Inception,” dreams and reality become limitless in the hands of Nolan who introduces some lofty ideas into this espionage mind thriller. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as Dom Cobb, a man whose job it is to enter the dreams of individuals and steal their ideas and secrets. When a wealthy industrialist Saito (Ken Watanabe) confronts Cobb and asks him to enter the dreams of a business competitor (Cillian Murphy) and plant an idea in his mind (a technique known as inception) Cobb takes the challenge, although his right-hand man Arthur (Joseph Grdon-Levitt) is sure it can’t be done.

Also entering the dreamscape with Dom and Arthur is Ariadne (Ellen Page), an intelligent college student who is brought onto the team as the architect of the dreamy scenarios they will enter. Ariadne is also the only one on the team who knows that despite Cobb’s masterful talent, their work can all be destroyed if he allows the memories of his dead wife (Marion Cotillard) to affect him while he is navigating around in someone’s subconscious.

It would be pointless to explain any more about “Inception” other than these basic points. It’s a film to be experienced not clarified. It’s unfortunate there will probably be plenty of people that will dismiss the narrative as too confusing to fully enjoy, but the originality of “Inception” carries it through to the end even when some of its more emotional aspects end up being a bit underwhelming.

Situated somewhere in the wilderness of the Missouri Ozark Mountains, local girl Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) teaches her younger brother and sister how to cook deer stew and hunt for squirrel. She shows them how to live off the land, how to be thankful for the little they have, and how to survive.

In any other film, the backwoods setting and Midwestern drawl might have some directors and writers taking the easy route and relying on stereotypes to portray their characters. Filmmaker Debra Granik (“Down to the Bone”) has other plans in her film “Winter’s Bone,” winner of the 2010 Sundance Grand Jury Prize. Instead, Granik takes this little known region and brings it to life through a steady and minimal tale of strength and determination. It’s this year’s “Frozen River.”

Fairly unknown actress Lawrence plays Ree, a young girl who spends her days tending to her siblings and mentally-frail mother. When news comes that her meth-addicted father has put their house and land up for his bond and has skipped out on court, Ree is forced to search for him before the authorities can take away the only things keeping the family together.

But even in a small community like theirs, not many people want to get involved in other people’s affairs. Doors may swing open for Ree as she questions her neighbors about her father’s whereabouts, but they close just as quickly.

Beautifully shot with the vast and bleak landscapes of the Ozarks in every frame, “Winter’s Bone” is an authentic and deeply moving experience propelled by the amazing performances of Lawrence and John Hawkes, who plays Ree’s detached uncle. It’s really Lawrence, however, who etches a name for herself in the industry with her heroic role.

Starring: Nicholas Cage, Jay Baruchel, Alfred Molina
Directed by: John Turteltaub (“National Treasure: Book of Secrets”)
Written by: Lawrence Konner (“Flicka”), Mark Rosenthal (“Flicka”), Matt Lopez (“Bedtime Stories”)

In an attempt to tap into the well-established “Harry Potter” market, Disney has unearthed a 200-year-old story most recently manifested in their 1940 classic film “Fantasia” and created a film that will likely make people pine for the cartoon’s timeless simplicity. Producer Jerry Bruckheimer and company have taken the famous mopping scene from “Fantasia” and expanded and re-imagined the story to create a film that taps into the world of magic and sorcery. Although it provides some entertainment through special effects, ”The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” is a mostly unbalanced film that fails to conjure up anything substantial in the way of story, plot, or memorable moments.

“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” opens with a quick trip back into history recapping the story of Merlin and his three apprentices. One of Merlin’s apprentices, Maxim Horvath (Alfred Molina) turns against Merlin and joins forces with the evil sorceress Morgana before eventually being captured in a nesting doll-type object called a grimhold. As Merlin is dying, he gives another one of his apprentices, Balthazar Blake (Nicolas Cage) a ring with a dragon on it that will one day determine who will succeed Merlin.

The audience then skips to the year 2000, where young Dave Stutler (played in kid form by Dave Cherry) stumbles into what appears to be an antique store where he finds the enigmatic Balthazar. Balthazar quickly notices something about Dave that prompts him to grab the dragon ring, which perfectly grips and attaches to Dave’s finger. While wandering around the store, Dave accidentally releases the evil Horvath, leading to an extended battle which leaves Horvath and Balthazar trapped inside a vase. Dave throws away the grimhold and is met by his teacher, who finds only Dave and an empty antique store.

In a final jump to present-day New York City, the audience finds Dave (Jay Baruchel), the now 20-year-old self-proclaimed physics nerd, offering help to Becky (Teresa Palmer), his elementary school crush, in their physics class. Meanwhile, Horvath and Balthazar reappear from the vase, now just an artifact in an old couple’s home. Horvath immediately visits Dave in search of the grimhold. Balthazar is able to appear to save Dave in the nick of time, and recruits Dave to help him find the grimhold. Dave and Balthazar then engage in a series of battles with Horvath, while Balthazar uses every opportunity to train Dave to be the sorcerer he is destined to become – the only one who can defeat Morgana, should she be released.

The film suffers from uninspiring performances from most of its leads. Jay Baruchel fails to display the charm he showed in “She’s Out of My League” and turns in an unconvincing performance as a newly post-teenage physics nerd. Nicolas Cage sleepwalks through his role as the wise, but slightly neurotic Balthazar and adds virtually nothing but a name to plaster on a movie poster to help bring in bigger box office numbers. Alfred Molina gives the best performance of the leads in his role as the evil Horvath. It is a performance that is evil enough to make him a convincing villain, however, fans of Molina’s will surely recognize this is not his best work.

One of the major downfalls of this film is its over-reliance on special effects. While the first couple of battles provide amusing effects as the Sorcerers throw plasma balls and move objects with the wave of a hand, the concept begins to repeat itself and wear thin. The entire movie presents a repeating cat and mouse game between Horvath and the duo of Balthazar and Dave and by the third time we see characters hurling transforming objects at one another, the effects have lost their luster.

The large majority of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice takes place in a physics lab and focuses on Balthazar’s efforts to train Dave and turn him into a true sorcerer. This leaves almost no room to grow for any of the relationships beyond that of Dave and Balthazar. The relationship between Dave and Becky isn’t given enough time to develop, lacks believability and fails to evoke any sort of emotional response from the viewer.

Perhaps the most criminal of cinematic offenses comes in the movie’s final act, which is the end battle that the entire film leads towards. In a this final sequence Dave suddenly does things that he wasn’t capable of five minutes prior, other characters perform acts that are either not completely shown on screen or are not explained. The sequence becomes so convoluted that it reiterates the banality and lack of substance of the film and once again leaves the viewer’s enjoyment at the mercy of the special effects.

Serving as a Sunday afternoon time passer at best, “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” isn’t entertaining enough to cover up its plethora of plot holes, lack of character development and dull story line.

While the cuteness factor is at an all-time high in the new animated feature film “Despicable Me,” the elimination of any real conflict between characters is bothersome. Sure, a collection of likeable toons can offer a gleeful experience especially to those of a certain age, but important as it is to have someone to cheer for, it’s also kind of fun to have someone to root against. In “Despicable Me,” everyone is either just so gosh darn adorable or wacky, you might as well be watching an episode of the “Teletubbies.”

The happy-go-luckiness begins with the yellow, scene-stealing, Twinkie-shaped characters known as the minions, who will probably grace every lunchbox and backpack once the new school year starts up next month. The minions, who take on the same type of role as the claw-loving, squeeze-toy aliens in the “Toy Story” franchise, work for the darkly sophisticated Gru (Steve Carell), a supervillain who cuts in line at the coffee shop and hogs the road while driving his oversized, jet-powered vehicle.

When Gru finds out another supervillain known as Vector (Jason Segel) is outworking him by successfully executing high-profile crimes (his latest is stealing the Great Pyramid of Giza), Gru decides he will not settle for being second best. His plan: to steal the moon, a plan that first requires him to get his hands on a shrink ray gun retained by Vector so he can simply pluck a miniature moon right from the sky.

To do so, Gru adopts a trio of orphans – Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), Edith (Dana Gaier), and Agnus (Elsie Fisher) – to infiltrate Vector’s lair by peddling cookies at his front door. In return, the girls, who make up a major portion of the good-natured spirit of the animation, show Gru that being a supervillain doesn’t mean he can’t also be a loving dad.

And so goes Gru’s transformation from a coldhearted evildoer to compassionate father figure. It’s part of the basic and mostly cliché script by “Horton Hears a Who!” screenwriters Ken Daurio and Cinco Paul. Aside from Carell’s awkwardly inconsistent voice work as Gru, most of the character’s problems come during his transition from baddie to daddy. “Despicable Me” digs for some sentimentality, but ultimately comes up short.

Left to fill space: the minions, who are bound to be a crowd favorite by the end of the summer. They scuttle, chatter incoherently, and earn their laughs mostly when getting bopped in the head or knocked to the ground. “Despicable Me” deserves a chuckle or two here and there, but the safety net it seems to be working over gets in the way of producing any authentic animated dramedy not found on Nickelodeon.