Directed by Roar Uthaug
by Rosalie Kicks, Old Sport

Tomb Raider should be fun. Instead, it is two minutes shy of a two-hour long eye roll, filled with shoddy effects, a Lifetime-esque story line about dads, and a sprinkling of cheesy zingers. From the moment the projector casts that first frame on the screen, you will be posing the same question that is later professed by The Raider's papa: "What in the blazes are you doing here?"