Charles Taylor

There's nothing worse than a bad farce -- except for this Cuban missile crisis comedy that wastes talent like Sigourney Weaver, John Turturro and Alan Cumming.

I walked out of Scary Movie feeling as if I'd been whacked around with a two-by-four for an hour and a half.

I understand how hard it is for parents to find movies to take their kids to, but the thought of them or their children getting stuck at this stinker galls me. Summer vacation feels short enough as it is.

Sandler deserves to be damned to the pits of hell for this witless masturbatory comedy.

Who cares about old guys and young girls? This handsome romantic slop finds other problems.

It's a terrible movie, stuck in plot idiocies and big, noisy set pieces like a tire mired in mud.

There's a vacancy in The Million Dollar Hotel, and it's between Wim Wenders' ears.

It's an A-list movie for the most brain-dead elements of the action-movie crowd.

The film flails incoherently from set to set, trying to be kicky and madcap and pop, but with no sense of the show's casual acceptance of the absurd.

One of those movies that makes you feel as if the national IQ was dropping while you're watching it. It's the return of all the homiletic clichés about an America that never existed.

All Only the Strong Survive has to offer are scraps, and it's a sad thing to sit through a movie billed as a tribute to a group of terrific performers and to come away with nothing more than scraps.

Not even court-ordered rehab could save this stumbling drunk of a picture.

Unwatchable.

The point, I think, is the sheer callous inappropriateness of comedy existing within the physical reality of the camps -- even the imagined reality of a movie.

This clunky TV remake is stiffer than an iron curtain.

There isn't a frame of The Musketeer that's believable even as a Hollywood re-creation of a fantasy world. It's conventionally picturesque, except in the nighttime and interior scenes, which are dark to the point of glaucoma.

There may be filmmakers whose own vision is vast enough to take on Thackeray's, but Mira Nair isn't one of them. Her new film of Vanity Fair is a disaster. Scene by scene and moment to moment, it's a woeful misreading of the book.

A stupid, brutal and nonsensical picture.

The disgrace of Steal This Movie isn't just that it fails to do justice to its subject, but that, as a movie, it's barely competent.

I think you'd have to be comatose or mentally incompetent not to find Enough ludicrous.

If you've ever sat in a jet waiting on the runway, feeling it lumbering along in place and then bucking and shaking when it's cleared for take-off, you know what it's like to sit through Air Force One.

Penn's portrayal strikes me as equally insensitive. It's the nightmare performance of 2001.

Speed 2 is such an inept piece of direction that it's anybody's guess whether De Bont understands how to convey where two characters are in spatial relation to each other or in relation to the action.

Hannibal, which is very likely the worst film of this year and quite possibly the next, achieves what no movie I can recall ever even attempting: It somehow manages to be both repugnant and boring.