Adam Markovitz

Sit tight through the end credits and you'll be treated to a few off-the-cuff outtakes of the guys doing things much funnier than anything in the film itself.

Even the best player can only go so far with a bum hand.

Underwhelming in the style of most off-brand CG, Alpha and Omega is livened by pretty Rocky Mountain backdrops and leadened by stock characters and the wolves' weirdly prissy behavior.

What Halloween II does have, though, is Zombie’s claustrophobic visual style; he half-drowns his actors in shadow, then tracks them through windows and around corners like a focused predator. If only we cared about the prey.

There's nothing particularly inventive in the plot or grade-school humor, but the movie skates by on the timeless, undemanding charm of watching a tie-wearing bear try to steal people's lunches.

Most of the movie's action-horror set pieces play like lame Gwar music video outtakes, and Cage's signature mix of irony and off-the-rails mugging only works when you can see the actor's face. In Ghost Rider form, his character is just a skeletal automaton with neither a tongue nor a cheek to put it in.

The jokes are flaccid, the acting is stiff, and the whole idea is such a boner, you have to wonder if the writer was missing another critical organ when he came up with it.

No movie -- whether aimed at adults or kids or canines themselves -- has the right to be as tiresome and unoriginal as this action-comedy mutt.

An indistinct romantic-dramedy-ish something or other about the rekindled romance of an actress (Rachel Bilson) and her childhood best friend (Tom Sturridge).

Basically a nifty VFX reel in search of a plot.

Good news: The shrill CG rodents, who last infested theaters in 2009's Squeakquel, are stranded on a jungle island with little hope of survival. Bad news: They've brought us along.

Lawrence's gender-bending jokes are played out, and his slapstick is wooden and slow.

You will still be astonished by how flat-out awful it is.

A ho-hum series of kills and lulls so predictable that it doesn't even look like much fun for the sharks; when they open wide, they might as well be yawning.

The exception is newcomer Jenn Proske, who spoofs Twilight star Kristen Stewart's flustered, hair-tugging angst with hilarious precision.