There once was a Knight and a Day

There was a great shot in the preview

That guaranteed it would get my view

Though nobody's going

And reviews aren't glowing

I thought it was pretty good – it's true!

One doesn't often describe action movies as "cute," but Knight and Day turns out to be maybe the most adorable blockbuster ever. With one caveat... if you've got Tom Cruise issues, you'll hate this like Hudson Hawk.

Because even tho a bunch of stuff blows up real good, Knight and Day succeeds almost entirely on how much you like/dislike Cruise and Cameron. Despite his cults, couches and CGI doves, I still count myself as Team Tom, particularly when he's Les Grossman. And he's in full-on movie star mode here, all cocksure come-ons and badass poses. Cameron Diaz also plays basically an idealized version of herself, smiling thru a series of supercute costume changes – sometimes with a gun.

The plot basically amounts to one long chase scene, with the movie's MacGuffin being a perpetual fusion battery or some such thing. Peter Saarsgard's the rival spy who may or may not be the bad guy, depending on whether you think Cruise's character has gone insanely rogue or just wackily bullet-happy. None of it really matters – the fun of the flick is watching the leads play off each other, and they're clearly having a better time than they did in Vanilla Sky.

Part of what makes the movie works is James Mangold's offbeat direction – his resume (Walk the Line, Girl Interrupted) doesn't exactly scream "high-octane summer adventure" and watching him experiment with the format is entertaining in its own right. Some of the set pieces have a classic action movie soundtrack, while others are backed by light Italian classical tunes or jazzy spins on Harold Faltermeyer's Axel F. And the scenes themselves unfold almost languidly, giving the entire endeavor a slightly dreamy feel.

Here's the thing: if you break the movie down into its basic elements, there's not a ton of "there" there. But if you like the leads and are willing to go with it, the sum is definitely greater than the whole of its parts. So go ahead and embrace the excesses of big-time mainstream Hollywood moviemaking – despite the fact that America seems uninterested, I think it's worth a watch.

There once were 3 Stories of Toys

In the decade it's been since part two

The characters (and audience) grew

This tale of maturing

Is really quite stirring

Pixar's earned a great big "thank you."

I'll add my voice to the choir praising Pixar's first threequel – unlike other high-profile followups, this one more than lives up to the hype.

People praise kids' movies for "appealing to adults." Unfortunately, what that often ends up meaning is a bunch of snide jokes or easy parodies in the Shrek sequels – where Pixar excels is in making masterpieces that legitimately entertain the entire family. Because rather than offering up cheap pop-culture pot-shots, Pixar's delivered an unrivaled streak of spectacularly wonderful films that present evergreen themes under a shiny coat of CGI.

I won't recap the plot or share spoilers, but there's a moment in this movie where the overall theme of letting go becomes so sharply poignant that it elevates Toy Story 3 out of the "animation" category entirely. It's a lock for the Best Animated Picture win whenever the Oscars are next year, but based on the 2010 slate so far, it could be in contention for the real hardware. It's that good.

There once was some Sex and a City

This saga of stylish New Yorkers

Produced one film that was a corker

It made tons of money

And was pretty funny

But the sequel is more of a forker

Forker, as in "stick a fork in this franchise, it's done." Sex and the City 2 isn't the worst movie you've ever seen; frankly, it's not even as bad as the critics would have you believe. But it is almost completely irrelevant, and that's what kills it.

Over six seasons of the actual series, the stories of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda were pretty well wrapped up, but the first film did a surprisingly skillful job of creating a next chapter that felt organic and important. The sequel is not that. Having brought their characters' story arcs to a fairly natural close, what else can you do to showcase their fabulous clothes? Send 'em on vacation, I guess.

Just that idea isn't necessarily a movie-killer, but where they go and how they do it comes close. Aside from the, um, let's say uncharitable viewpoint of the Middle East that the movie espouses, the real problem is that they're in Abu Dhabi at all. While the lead actresses get top billing, the City of Manhattan's a living, breathing co-star. Putting them at a seven-star resort, while allowing the filmmakers to live out their Bollywood fantasies, does take some of the teeth out of the proceedings.

There's a faint framing story about Carrie feeling a little too settled in her marriage, but the stakes never feel very high. The other husbands and boyfriends make token appearances, but there's no drama there either. Overall, the whole thing feels incredibly slight – bright and colorful with some fun to be found, but nothing that makes any impact once the credits roll. Which takes an incredibly long time, btw – this romp clocks in at almost two-and-a-half hours. The first film was similarly a bit bloated, but as they were trying to shove in complete stories for four characters, it was allowable. Here, when a lot of the movie boils down to "Balenciagas vs. Burquas" jokes, it seems somewhat indulgent.

Speaking of indulgence, there are two musical numbers too many. They're kind of indicative of the overall problem – it's one thing to see these women striving to succeed in the urban jungle of New York, but it's another thing to watch them wallow in decadence and opulence just for the hell of it. The sequel's tagline is "Carry On," but I fear that this movie may prevent that. It hasn't been well-received by critics or fans, and frankly hasn't made much money. And in any City, from Manhattan to Hollywood or even Abu Dhabi, that just might be the kiss of death.

Which is too bad, really – what began as the defining voice of a generation of women might go out on a note as ethereal as a champagne bubble.