The Tomatometer rating – based on the published opinions of hundreds of film and television critics – is a trusted measurement of movie and TV programming quality for millions of moviegoers. It represents the percentage of professional critic reviews that are positive for a given film or television show.
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The Tomatometer is 60% or higher.
The Tomatometer is 59% or lower.
Movies and TV shows are Certified Fresh with a steady Tomatometer of 75% or higher after a set amount of reviews (80 for wide-release movies, 40 for limited-release movies, 20 for TV shows), including 5 reviews from Top Critics.
Percentage of users who rate a movie or TV show positively.
Lacking tension in its setting and empathy for its characters, 88 Minutes is a woeful excuse of a thriller thanks to the inept direction by Jon Avnet, who has forgotten to inject emotion and thrills in what can only be described as a bloated crime movie.
Interestingly, the more overblown and insincere a performance Pacino delivers in a film, the more self-important and bouffant his hair gets. Here, it's so towering it takes up 90 per cent of the screen.
It verges on so-bad-it's-good territory, but just isn't entertaining enough. Lacking in tension and pace, poorly edited and starring wholly unsympathetic characters, this is just dull, drab and boring.
The kindest thing one can say is that director Jon Avnet and screenwriter Gary Scott Thompson bought a flatpack version of a thriller and then couldn't follow the instructions. Manuals can be confusing.
While 88 Minutes is no 3:10 To Yuma, this beat-the-clock escape artist fare that's light on logic and heavy on the shoe leather, sustains sufficient breathlessly nerve-jangling lockdown for the duration, despite a couple of weirdly situated plot holes.
When they were counting down the 88 minutes, I just kept saying to myself, "oh man, this movie still has 72 minutes left?" "Oh man, this movie has 17 minutes left?" I just couldn't wait to get out of the theatre.