Reviews provided by RottenTomatoes
Its heavily mined narrative throws all sorts of ridiculous twists into the mix in order to put Croft through her punishing paces.
Dallas Morning News:
The dialogue is hackneyed and heavy-handed, with cheesy puns that might have been lifted from an old-time college fraternity skit.
San Jose Mercury News:
Jolie gives Lara an upper class British accent, but it's so denatured that she sounds like one of those British techno-pop goddesses on a Valium drip.
So deep was the concern that Jolie fully realize the role of Lara Croft: Tomb Raider that the story got lost in the jungle.
[Jolie's] glittering, libidinous impudence gives this packaged piece of corporate schlock a strange integrity -- perhaps even a soul.
Tomb Raider's preoccupation with time is puzzling, given the movie's leisurely pace.
[A] movie based on a video game that's unafraid to look absurd but lacks the self-conviction needed to come off as camp.
See summer films such as Tomb Raider, Swordfish and Pearl Harbor over and over again, as young people are wont to do, and your mind is liable to atrophy from lack of use.
Character shadings take a back seat to confusing exposition and feeble mysticism.
It's yet another movie where you frequently have no idea what's going on or why.
The movie never summons the slightest pretense that there is anything at stake for the audience.
Globe and Mail:
The movie credits five separate persons for the story and screenplay, a quintet of scribes who might better consider a career shift into acting -- they've clearly done a splendid job of impersonating monkeys at a typewriter.
Highly anticipated adaptation of the popular computer game is uneven, sometimes awkward, but Angelina Jolie makes the title character a virtual icon of female competence and coolth.
Of all this summer's mindless blockbusters, this is arguably the most fun.
Here is a movie so monumentally silly, yet so wondrous to look at, that only a churl could find fault.
A movie for young boys and slightly older boys. For the rest of us, it's so inept it doesn't even provide an opportunity to ogle Angelina Jolie properly.
San Francisco Chronicle:
The herald of a cold, heartless, soul-dead cinema for a numbed audience with no interest in human emotion, just a craving to have its synapses jolted.
A jerky, fragmented tale that jumps from one exotic location to the next without any explanation or flow.
If only the story that surrounds this watchable heroine were as well-stacked.
So pandering and pebble-brained you'd guess it had been test-screened on barnyard animals.
For a modestly budgeted project -- this movie's well-done and watchable, even occasionally elegant.
Loud, banal, empty, frenzied, plasticized, flavorless, drab, violent in a bloodless way and sexy in a sexless way.