Edward Guthmann

Pokemon is over.

Numbing.

Knows its audience and doesn't stint on the flatulence jokes, poop jokes, leg-humping dogs and moments of homo-panic.

What we have here isn't a disaster, exactly, but a very handsomely produced let-down.

It's an interesting technique -- the blurring of reality and "movies" -- but Korine's objective is so narrow and mean, and his viewpoint so colored by smug, adolescent condescension, that Gummo comes off like a mean-spirited prank.

Cheesy.

Never comes alive.

A schlocky thriller that might appeal to less discriminating members of the mall crowd.

Worse than dull. It's parasitic.

A glossy piece of trash.

This is a sloppy hash of a movie, poorly directed and plotted in a way that looks as if it were improvised on the spot.

Big, opulent and frequently wretched, Pinocchio is so bad that its American distributor, Miramax, opened it on Christmas Day with scant advertising and no advance press screening.