Elizabeth Weitzman

You certainly won’t learn anything of interest about the Princess of Wales in Oliver Hirschbiegel’s misguided new biopic. But Diana can be declared a success in one regard — its vacant inanity serves to remind us of the perpetual indignities forced upon this unlucky Lady.

Given a plot and dialogue that ring entirely false, we're left with a bunch of unpleasant characters who do unpleasant things for no apparent reason. Enjoy.

Charmless and derivative.

The results are awkward and atonal.

A mediocre little thriller that might have promised cheap fun on Blockbuster's direct-to-DVD shelf is instead destined to die a quick death on the big screen.

Whether he's the victim of poor directing or misguided ambition, Bass is almost entirely charisma-free.

Director Donald Petrie doesn’t have much to brag about here, but at least he gives us some nice scenery to look at.

The film never builds past its initial idea, the references to 9/11 feel cheap, the good actors are wasted, and the bad ones are distracting.

Takashi Miike is a master at making love-'em-or-loathe-'em spectacles, but even fans are likely to consider the final film of his Dead or Alive trilogy a minor entry in his oeuvre.

Baldly superficial, it probably should have been given a less demanding metaphor to live up to.

With his (Cage) over-the-top delivery and operatically intense facial expressions, there's no way anyone could accuse him of phoning this one in.

The good news is the script for Scooby-Doo 2 is marginally better and the eternally irritating Scrappy-Doo is nowhere to be seen.

Though Wilson tries hard, none of the actors - including Terrence Howard as the detective who unravels this story in flashback is able to overcome the script's considerable deficiencies.

Even The Rock, who can usually be counted on to enliven any scenario, seems bored by the laughably feeble script.

The blatantly misogynistic treatment of the female characters, who exist solely to service Rob and his best friend (Craig Roberts), would have felt retrograde in a movie made decades ago.

No one is able to make much of the disposable script, but Hamm is so limited by the period trappings that it seems as if he simply wandered onto the wrong set.

If you’re considering spending your hard-earned money on such bland fare, you should at least know what you’re getting: a rehash of every rom-com cliché imaginable.

Veering between black comedy and intense psychological drama, David Moreton's bizarre thriller never manages to get its bearings.

Looks great but tells us little about the subjects.

A cheerless sequel to an uninspired remake, Cheaper by the Dozen 2 is, at best, well timed to serve as a backup baby-sitter during the hectic days of winter break.

Bill Carey’s uneven first film, centered on an isolated Texas teen named Vallie Sue (AJ Michalka), has some offbeat charms. They are not, however, strong enough to carry such a heavy load of cliches.

Just not feeling the holiday spirit? Maybe a brainless, extra-bloody B-movie will provide the boost you're looking for.

While ATM does offer a few jolts, we're paired with bland characters and an underrealized premise.

Jessica Goldberg’s sluggish directorial debut feels like a leftover from the 1990s, when dank indie dramas littered film-festival lineups.

Valentine's Day is sugary, sappy and totally predictable. It's also what a whole lot of women are likely to want.

This pretty trifle is a movie about gorgeous women having an illicit affair -- period.

Those who need little more than a car chase, gunplay, pretty girls and a solid soundtrack will be entertained. And Ice Cube fans won't be disappointed. Everyone else may want to think twice before shelling out hard-earned dollars.

How ironic (depressing? predictable?) that the week after we celebrate the best in movies, we are force-fed its very worst. 21 & Over is filmmaking by formula, and evidence of Hollywood’s assumption that appealing to viewers’ basest instincts will always pay off.

An uncensored, often hilarious vision of spring break madness that is so perfectly positioned on the big screen, the only question you can ask its creators is, "What took you so long?"

Fashionistas who flock to Whitney Sudler-Smith's documentary should pay heed to the entire title: this isn't simply the biography of an American icon, but the chronicle of a misguided filmmaker.

Most people can only watch the same movie so many times. But Philipp Stölzl is clearly hopeful that when you’re done with “Taken” (and “Taken 2”), you’ll want more of the same. Should that be the case, this undistinguished but decent knockoff is ready to satisfy.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen a movie that feels as though it was made by someone who just discovered the collected works of Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie.

If all you want is a bullets-and-bombs B-movie, you'll get your money's worth: Somehow, Hayward makes 82 minutes feel like hours.

There's nothing here but a messy lump of coal.

If he earns no other accolades for his directorial debut - a distinct likelihood - Lee Daniels deserves some kind of award just for assembling the most bizarrely random cast of this young century.

There’s no explaining the presence of Guy Pearce in Pauline Chan’s sappy, atonal family drama. But it’s easy enough to understand why he looks so uncomfortable throughout.

Though Nair leaves us guessing as to Changez’s motivations, she also uses a pretty heavy hand in laying out the movie’s themes. The changes between the novel and the screenplay are equally unsubtle, especially in regards to the ill-conceived romance.

Leoni and Kinnear are charming, and Koepp keeps the mood appropriately light. But really, this would be just another disposable comedy if it weren't for our unassuming star.

While The Grudge 2 feels like a second-generation copy - a little faded, with less impact than the first - there are still plenty of moments that will linger in your nightmares.

A muddle of good intentions and bad direction, this amateurish road movie follows a young Brit across Europe as he reconnects with his Jewish roots.

It's hard to say which is worse: The fact that 20th Century Fox believes this sour, sexist fantasy reflects anyone's actual experience or that Hollywood is so woefully behind the cultural curve.

All we get is the Oedipal nightmare of a mom, the flaky teddy-bear fanatic, the sexual vampire, and on and on.

Given that its predecessor hit bottom in the glorification of thug thrills, State Property 2 had nowhere to go but up. Yet, it doesn't.

Cage, adopting an accent that could best be defined as Just British Enough to Sound Serious, adds some welcome weirdness to this otherwise generic production. He doesn’t fit in at all, but then again, who’d want him to?

Shallow and frustratingly misguided drama.

For parents looking to get their preschoolers out of the house, The Hero of Color City will be good enough.

The cast gamely tries to keep up, with the scene-stealing O'Dowd making the strongest impression. Still, it all feels so lazy and familiar that adults may find themselves hoping Black will start to challenge himself again - and the more swiftly the better.

If I were to guess how Hollywood envisions the inside of a teenage boy's brain, it would look exactly like Zack Snyder'sSucker Punch."

Some may wonder why Jennifer Aniston keeps taking projects about single women unlucky in love. But the bigger question in Love Happens is why, with her pick of scripts, she chose one so utterly uninspired.

A passable, but entirely uninspired "Spy Kids" wanna-be.

There have been so many movies about aspiring superheroes in recent years, they practically constitute their own genre. Though hardly ground-breaking, this whimsical Australian entry is just endearing enough to stand out from the pack.

So who was the movie really made for? Mostly, it seems, for Cyrus herself, who needed to take the first, hesitant step in another direction.

For all the talent involved, the overall effect is surprisingly flat. Foxx appears disconnected, Byrne is wasted and a painfully hammy Diaz seems to be in another movie altogether.

This sci-fi spoof is desperately bidding for cult-classic status. It falls far short of that goal, but with so many jokes flying wildly around, it does hit its targets every once in a while.

Frankly, you may prefer the company of cinematic serial killers (Freddy vs. Jason) after you meet the pair at the center of this story.

Surprisingly sweet and smart... LaBeouf does an excellent job, and the talented Beeney is one to watch.

It's a pleasure to watch a thinking-man's actor like Sinise adapt so easily to this challenge; he even keeps his dignity when forced to participate in the inevitable martial arts-inflected showdown.

A witless rom-com that is only marginally watchable.

Having mined England and Ireland dry, filmmakers are now turning to Wales for their quirkiness quota.

How do films this stale and generic continue to get made, let alone with topflight talent? Cedric has been stealing scenes from bigger names for nearly a decade; he deserves better than a few amusingly-improvised minutes at the end of his own movie. And so do we.

Don't misunderstand: the proceedings are pretty silly, and the scares were a lot fresher back in 1979, when we first saw "The Amityville Horror." But Cornwell and his cast take things just seriously enough to keep us at least intermittently on edge.

Less a movie than a very expensive display of Afro wigs and macrame wall hangings.

A lazy attempt to snare some preadolescent allowance money, Sleepover earns little more than a few bored yawns.

Somehow, though, director Huck Botko and writer Jeff Tetreault have turned their dopey tribute to testosterone into a surprisingly amusing rom-com.

Though John Stockwell's action comedy is shamelessly derivative, his enthusiastic cast propels it much further than it should go.

On the plus side, the Irish landscape is gorgeous, and Scott and John Lithgow are amusing in small roles. But Goode barely makes an effort, so Adams' frantic exertions feel especially disheartening

Has amusing moments, but falls apart as quickly as a cheap knockoff.

Green's aggressively whimsical autobiography, which he narrates entirely in rhyme, will challenge all but the most open-minded audiences.

Oddly enough, though, only the finale is predictable in a movie that appears to have been edited in an early-model blender. Not a single scene connects smoothly with the next.

Occasionally funny but ultimately desperate comedy.

Even if you overlook the lousy lighting, awkward editing, and uneven acting, there's so much talking -- and so little story -- that your mind is likely to wander.

On the whole, this is an awfully long slog through very arid terrain, in which generic soldiers track, fight and try to escape from generic villains (you'd be surprised at how uninteresting mutant flesh-eaters can be). I can't speak for the hills, but I spent most of the movie just trying to keep my eyes open.

Allen and Short seem to be having so much fun that their enthusiasm is entirely contagious. Let the season begin.

Oddly enough, given his limited role, the movie seems to have been made around Nelly; when he's not onscreen, everything falls apart.

Check out the trailer before you commit to this one; if it's for you, you'll know instantly. And if it's not, you'll know that, too.

As earnest as its artless young characters, Tom Rice's intermittently affecting debut walks a well-trod path without finding anything very new.

Scenario is ripe for subversive humor, but Ralston never even questions the superiority of the genetically privileged.

With lots of cool gadgets, plenty of silliness and a clever concept guaranteed to appeal to preteens, this should be an unflagging, high-octane romp.

If only the movie could live up to its own potential. Instead, we're stuck with blandly unappealing costumed characters meandering through a boring quest to find some lost balloons.

The characters speak in Dialogue rather than English, the actors are so busy emoting they forget to act and the story feels like a first-draft college project.

Holwerda’s film never bothers to conceal its fawning view of Dawkins and Krauss — or challenge their dogma. And there’s no need for empty celebrity cameos from fans like Cameron Diaz (“Knowledge is power,” she reveals).

If you're really hoping for a perfect holiday, steer clear of this stale fruitcake of a comedy.

Sloppy, self-satisfied and surprisingly heartfelt.

Adam Rifkin's dank, relentless drama puts you savagely through the wringer without bothering to enlighten or entertain.

Though Jaglom intends for us to be charmed by show folk, the amateurish performances and perennially misjudged direction wind up portraying them instead as boundlessly needy narcissists.

The story has more holes than a shot-up metal door, the acting feels bored at best, and the intermittent action, while passable, hardly makes up for the downtime.

Dramatically miscalculated satire.

We could have lived without another ’90s-influenced exercise in gritty wonderment. But thanks to a perfectly-matched lead, Shia LaBeouf, the movie makes enough impact to justify its existence.

Striking naturalism and blatant dishonesty blend awkwardly in this bleak drama.

The ideal movie for people too lazy to read a Harlequin romance, this by-the-numbers love story doesn't offer a single surprise.

The tone veers wildly, from wacky indie to melodramatic soap opera. Like the other men in her life, Ireland adores Jolene without entirely understanding her.

The performances are dreadful, the direction shoddy and the final twist so idiotic, your mind can’t help but drift toward all the better scripts just waiting, sadly and silently, for the chance wasted here.

Even diehard fans will get more out of watching a four-minute music video than they'll find in this mixed-up mess.

The worst kind of horror movie: trash that takes itself seriously.

Houston does his best with an unlikable character, and the young actors are appealing enough to keep us watching. The movie itself, however, is a mess.

Think you'd be happy watching Berry do little more than look beautiful? Perfect Stranger gives you plenty of opportunity to find out.

It's Franco's straight-faced turn that grounds this proudly lowbrow caper from his "Pineapple Express" collaborators, David Gordon Green and Danny McBride.

Zombie's sense of fun gets buried under the growing pile of bodies, and eventually, we're left with little more than a frenzy of sadism.

It starts pushing buttons immediately and never lets up. This proves to be both its strongest asset and, unfortunately, its biggest flaw.

"War" is depressingly mean-spirited.

This exhausting romance feels more like a long-lost episode of "Three's Company" in which Jack Tripper decides he is actually gay.

The nearly unrecognizable Chiklis almost single-handedly saves the day.

There are moments of amusing melodrama, but for the most part, the action is too preposterous to take seriously, and too serious to be very much fun.

Rarely has there been a movie as misguided as Hounddog, which self-righteously indulges in exploitation while loudly decrying it.

Envy is such an ugly emotion, perhaps it deserves an ugly movie. Barry Levinson's Envy fills the bill - a mean-spirited black comedy saturated with dog-poo jokes and only intermittent yowls of mirth.

Cryer makes a likable sad-sack and Will Sasso provides balance as his narcissistic best friend. But both guys deserve better. As do we.

The smooth professionalism of so many outstanding participants can’t help but elevate a very ordinary film a little bit higher. Despite the best efforts of both McCarthy and O’Dowd, though, there’s never a moment where it truly takes flight.

In this group, only Hemsworth stands out.

The real culprit is first-time director Marcel Langenegger, who seems to have studied for his debut by watching nothing but Cinemax. The score hints at ominous activities that never happen, a rain machine provides the only atmosphere and the actors have to suffer through the silliest sex scenes in recent memory.

Before you spend good money to see the purported comedy, Blended, watch the trailer. The entire movie is packed into those 152 seconds.

It's too bad the film never makes good on its early promise, but clearly, the rolling fireballs and flying bullets are the priority.

Has its moments, it's also regrettably ordinary.

We will simply be grateful she (Lawrence) is here, and thus able to turn generic junk into mildly interesting junk.

Both LeBlanc and Larter glide through the synthetic setup like pros, but they have no connection because their characters barely resemble human beings.

Boredom is the very basis of this sequel, at least at the beginning.

The whole movie hinges on the allegedly miraculous romance between Beverly and Peter, but Goldsman’s leads are distractingly mismatched and lack even a spark of chemistry.

Too superficial to shock or surprise.

Those who go looking for tragic relevance in Scott Rosenbaum's debut indie won't find much to grasp onto.

Though they lack chemistry as a team, it's gratifying to see both Perry and Burns stretching in ways they haven't before.

If you like your gore hardcore, you'll want to head straight for "Halloween II." But if you're happy to ease around a slightly smaller track, look no further.

No worse than the second. Still, it pales in comparison to the first, which starred Dolph Lundgren. And that, right there, should tell you everything you need to know.

Miller clearly wanted to make an impression, and that he does. Maybe it's better to be remembered for one of the worst movies of the year than forgotten for a mediocre one.

How does a comedy troupe even get from the frat-humor antics of "Beerfest" to the middle-class suburbanality of Babymakers? Well, everybody gets old eventually. Growing up, on the other hand, is optional.

This warmed-over slop feels as if it's been congealing for twice that long.

The unhappy dead populate Geoffrey Sax's third-rate thriller White Noise like a pre-Christmas crowd at a suburban mall. This is a shame, since they are neither scary nor sad, and less likely to haunt an audience than simply bore them to death.

Just another trip down a very dusty road.

What "The Exorcist" might look like if Madonna rewrote it, this silly fright flick finds college student Casey (Odette Yustman) haunted by a Kabbalistic demon.

Cheesy horror flick that feels like straight-to-video material.

Here's what's missing from Casey La Scala's film: Likable characters, a comprehensible script and any semblance of a good time.

At the very least, it does provide an easy excuse to sit in a heated room eating popcorn.

If you’re looking for a Valentine’s Day date, this version is probably a better choice than the uncomfortably swoony original would have been. You might be bored, but at least you won’t be embarrassed.

Surely Patton Oswalt could have leveraged all those accolades from last year's "Young Adult" into a better project than this instantly forgettable comedy.

If even one audience member leaves more concerned with the evils of poachers than the pleasures of Pokemon, Disney's more than done its job.

What holds the movie together -- albeit tenuously -- is the surprisingly sweet-natured pairing of Jesse and Chester.

It's hard to say what's most disappointing about She Hate Me, Spike Lee's absurdly - and arrogantly overlong comedic drama. But there are plenty of options to choose from.

The movie is hindered by its weak script, but there's also a bigger problem to overcome: If we want to laugh at superficial celebrities, we already have plenty to choose from in real life.

It's always admirable when a director decides to make a risky film. On the other hand, it's not quite as commendable to also make a boring one.

Jonathan, who was so great in "Roll Bounce," deserves better. It'd be overly generous, however, to say the same about anyone else involved.

Only a memorably commanding Ruehl transcends the limitations of her two-dimensional character.

There are a few gross-out laughs, but Without a Paddle's gang-written script doesn't know what it wants to be.

We never get a sensible explanation for Linda's bizarre double life, or uncover any reason - any reason at all - why Bullock would pick this lazy, patchwork script out of all the ones she surely receives every year.

If you're in an especially generous mood, you'll give in to a few laughs. By the end, though, you just may find yourself pining for the good old days of Pauly Shore.

Fels like an awkward student film.

If Firehouse Dog was on cable, where it belongs, it would make a passable diversion from homework or chores. But a kid would have to be pretty desperate to leave the house - and waste allowance money - for this modest distraction.

Exploitation shamelessly posing as empowerment, Neema Barnette's self-congratulatory drama about women in prison promises to reveal shocking truths.

If all you want is sensory overload, hop in. Driven will get you there.

Despite strong performances, this drawn-out "Day" feels like a cross between the claustrophobic play it once was, and the R-rated "After-School Special" it wants to be.

Stays firmly, depressingly, inside the lines.

Dylan's stoner comedy barely manages to string together a story, but lucky for him, his two stars radiate charisma even when they're hidden behind clouds of smoke.

Just how long will it be before Matthew McConaughey finally fulfills his destiny by dropping out of Hollywood and opening a chain of nudist colonies? His heart clearly isn't in acting right now, so when it was time to make Fool's Gold, he asked his abs to do the job for him.

Despite the movie’s flaws, Cicin-Sain does show considerable confidence for a first-time writer and director.

The production values are impressively slick and a few performances are polished, but it's not much more than "The Big Chill" on a little budget.

There have been times when the right team has been able to transcend the gooey schmaltz of Sparks’ stories. This effort, however, sinks like a rock thrown into a sun-dappled lake shaded by magnolia trees sparkling under a sky of shooting stars.

All the subtlety of an Olive Garden commercial.

Sticking closely to formula, Disney delivers a sweet script and charming storybook backgrounds, with serviceable, if sappy, songs from Carly Simon.

A few genuinely tense scenes are not enough to overcome a thin script, weak direction and an unceasingly high-strung score.

Wahlberg and Ejiofor muster enough charisma to keep us watching, and Jason Mantzoukas cuts through the generic feel with some much-appreciated weirdness as the Artisan.

Along with Moore, all of them deserve some kind of credit for committing to a movie barely six souls will ever even see.

Are two Demis better than one? How you answer will determine the level of patience you'll need to sit through this bizarre pet project.

A vanity project so preposterous it deserves to become an instant camp hit.

The story doesn't make any real sense, and the production values are home movie-cheap. But the cast seems to be having fun.

The atonal script is credited to first-timer Michael Brown, but there’s still no explaining Shapeero’s lump-of-coal debut.

Stahl should have had a career similar to Sam Rockwell's, blending thoughtful indies with fun popcorn flicks. Instead, he's spinning his wheels in junk like this. Calamitous indeed.

A comedy with two left feet, Immigration Tango does have enthusiasm on its side. But it trips up under the awkward efforts of all involved.

Good or bad, it's either a must-see in your house, or not even on the radar screen.

While the cast members, Dick and Prinze in particular, have fun with Robert Moreland's sassy script, the exaggerated, unappealing animation seems to belong to another movie altogether.

The best way to watch Chronically Metropolitan is to think of it as a parody of a particularly pretentious brand of indie romance. Unfortunately, though, director Xavier Manrique and writer Nicholas Schutt (“Blood & Oil”) play it so solemnly straight for their feature debut that it seems unlikely they’re aiming for satire.

So do the minutes. They stretch on as one tiresomely quirky sadist after another appears. Cusack is typically likable and De Niro is amusing in his brief scenes. But unlike Jack, you’re too smart to make big sacrifices for so little return.

Well-meaning but frustratingly unfocused documentary.

A movie without a moment of truth to be found.

Broderick is uptight; DeVito is obnoxious; and, somewhere, Nathan Lane is thanking his lucky stars he didn't get roped into this dreck.

Yep, Hess wrote and directed "Dynamite," and here's proof we shouldn't have rewarded him. The hollow "Broncos" is even more cruelly disdainful, designed primarily to scorn the pathetic lives within.

As for our leading man, he’s clearly just messing with us now. Who else would make a revenge thriller called Rage and then sleepwalk his way through it?

Simplistic plotting, pedestrian visuals and poorly-handled melodrama do lend the project a cheap, made-for-TV feel, which is underscored by the fact that Danes and Marsden don’t seem obliged to turn in their best work.

While Suvari is especially miscast as a sophisticate, only Richard E. Grant, as a worldly Brit, seems to understand the text.

Clearly, interest has waned - both because children grow up and because they move on. It might be time for the folks behind this particular fad to do the same.

The kind of middling thriller you might stop to watch if you came across it on cable, director Roger Christian’s “Alien” knockoff is presumably only in theaters because Christian Slater’s contract demanded it.

The entire cast is solid, but most notable are Greer and Silverman, who make the most of unexpectedly serious roles.

There probably is an interesting story in Van’s rags-to-riches tale. But all we get in this extended publicity stunt is clichéd filmmaking, stilted performances and a self-aggrandizing hero.

Johnny Depp has done so much for us. Let us now return the favor and pretend Mortdecai, a disastrously misjudged career low, never existed.

The affable Ice Cube is all that makes this forced, unfunny film watchable, and, frankly, it's hard watching him waste his efforts on a movie so woefully cynical.

Here's what Crossroads does not have: Cohesive direction from Tamra Davis, intelligent dialogue, a comprehensible plot.

The first midlife crisis movie apparently made with 8-year-olds in mind, Walt Becker's Wild Hogs brings several talents together for a single, clear purpose: to pay off their mortgages.

The movie even has the nerve to start with a montage of moments from his better films, a bad idea that sets off an escalating tumble downhill.

Turns out, subtitles don't make soft-core any classier.

Is it an exaggeration to call The Women the worst movie of the year? Well, yeah, probably. But it may be the most disappointing, given all the effort that went into it.

After an hour of red herrings, in which Jill investigates creepy corridors or opens rattling closet doors with no results, the only real danger is that we'll become bored to death. For real thrills, rent the original, turn down the lights and scare yourself silly.

Perhaps, if this movie fails, studios will finally accept that we all deserve better. Biel knows it already, and Butler keeps up in their scenes together.

Odenkirk is an expert at the unexpected laugh. (This must be the first prison movie in which a cafeteria put-down involves the painter Lucian Freud.)

If we're allowed just a couple of truly singular discoveries in twelve months, it's a good year; when one of them is a film as exhilarating as Spike Jonze's feature debut, it's a banner year.

It's hard to know who is the intended audience for this misguided mess.

If you want to direct a movie that's already been done, it's a good idea to pick one you can improve on.

Fortunately, the sheer amount of talent involved makes for a cheerfully forgettable experience, rather than a memorably miserable one.

An excellent actor too often stuck in unworthy roles, Nick Stahl deserves much better than Andrew Jenkins' derivative, self-conscious heist flick.

There are a couple of nominal insights here, but honestly, you'll find more intellectual edification (or whatever else you're looking for) flipping through Richards' photo shoot in the current "Playboy."

Well, it was bound to happen: The Wayans brothers have made a movie that's even more two-dimensional than a cartoon.

While Duff is fairly flavorless, Muniz proves that four seasons of "Malcolm" have made him a pro at navigating surreal silliness. Even when the script fails him, his well-honed instincts save the day.

As for that title, neither character is Italian, but each thinks the other is - a weak device designed purely to inspire a slew of stereotypes.

The plot makes absolutely no sense.

Where's the comedy?

The only real reason to see this movie is to show unwavering loyalty to Cena. And even so, he'll never know if you wait to watch it on cable for free.

There's a lot of scary stuff in Wes Craven Presents: Dracula 2000. There are eyeball-sucking leeches, decapitations, punctured necks... and appalling acting.

A murky swamp of a movie, Terry Gilliam's defiantly surreal Tideland finds every good idea drowning in an excess of indulgence.

If August has turned the children in your life into Bored Girl and Fidget Boy, you could find worse ways to keep them entertained.

Unfortunately, while director Steve Boyum is a successful stunt man and off-road biker, his skills do not extend to the relatively passive arena of filmmaking. Somehow, he even makes much of the action static.

There are no twists or even surprises, except the final realization that director Alan White is taking his culturally clueless, ineptly shot B-movie totally seriously. Judging from the uniformly underwhelming performances, he’s the only one.

This desperate effort by ­professional frat boy Tucker Max may be the most dismal movie of the decade.

Michael (Hansen) fakes his death and announces it online, solely so he can see who shows up at his funeral. His plans only grow more dimwitted from there.

It almost seems unfair to mention that Carla Gugino shows up as a cop 80 minutes into these overlong proceedings; by then, viewers who walk out would never even have known that she was involved.

So laughably preposterous that it's thoroughly entertaining.

Adapted from a years-old stage play, The Salon, Mark Brown's stilted, sista-centric answer to "Barbershop," definitely shows its roots. And despite a few highlights, the overall effect is not pretty.

Conceived by U2's Bono, it's not quite as bad as it might have been. After all, its own star, Mel Gibson, has famously called this tale of destitute misfits "as boring as a dog's a——."

An almost comically unsuitable title. There's absolutely nothing singular or special about this slapdash sci-fi film featuring martial-arts megastar Jet Li.

The humor is infantile at best (projectile vomiting and bathroom jokes) and meanspirited at worst (midgets and gays, look out).

Misguided at best and repellent at worst, the movie has, ironically enough, a single asset: Lohan's performance as a rebellious, uncontrollable teen.

Rev. Robin Williams goes from mildly comic to downright creepy.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with faith-based entertainment. The problem comes when, as with any heavily slanted perspective, the faith takes precedence over the entertainment.

Little more than a blatant marketing tool. But it's breezy and brief enough to keep young fans - and even their parents - modestly entertained.

The real challenge is for viewers, who must tolerate overacting, idiotic scatological jokes and juvenile innuendo. The only way it might be endurable is if you’re wasted, too.

A few scenes are stylish enough to amuse, but they all add up to nothing - leaving you ten bucks short and feeling like a sucker.

A warmed-over ripoff, rather than the gritty urban drama it so desperately wants to be.

If Meghan's misadventures were funny, or creatively told, or even just mildly entertaining, perhaps Brill ("Little Nicky") could get away with such lazy filmmaking. Instead he wastes all of his resources, including two top-flight comic actors, shamelessly.

Tries everything possible to win you over -- satire, gross-out comedy, even earnest romance. But as any high-schooler can tell you, the harder you try, the bigger you fall.

Burns doesn't even bother to disguise his New York accent, any more than he does his boredom.

If there's a lesson to be found in this shameless vanity project, it's that money can buy anything. Even a movie.

If one of your non-filmmaker friends watched "Office Space" a few too many times, this is probably the movie he'd make.

A few barely conceived scenes allow Carl Reiner, Tom Arnold and Jay Mohr to show up for a quick paycheck. What’s that title again?

John Leguizamo can do so much better than this weak rom-com, in which men are morons and women are either neurotic or nasty.

The result is a throwaway story hidden beneath a messy jumble of weird camera angles, worthless editing tricks and an ill-placed, obnoxious score.

Hudson has, if nothing else, traded up: last winter she was stuck in "Fool's Gold."

Don't let the title fool you. The one thing they have in common is how decidedly unerotic they are.

Enthusiastic performances help, but without a logical script or confident direction, the fizz very quickly goes flat.

There's a fascinating and terrifying story to be told about Elizabeth Bathory, the dramatically depraved 17th century sadist known as the Blood Countess.....This ain't it.

Franchise morphs into generic slasher series without Jigsaw.

The only truly ugly side to this self-consciously grimy movie is the streak of Neanderthal humor. Operatic overacting is funny. Racist and homophobic jokes? Not so much.

Both visually and emotionally ugly from start to finish, this empty crime thriller doesn't have a moment that's genuinely worth watching.

Seemingly made while writer-director-star Cevin Soling was heavily under the influence, this generally witless ode to illegal substances is apparently meant to be viewed that way, as well.

You don't have to rise very high to get above the level of these gags.

There are moments in Jack and Jill that are genuinely funny - and, just like countless family reunions, there are moments when you can't wait for it to end.

You'll have a few laughs, for sure. Just don't expect to enjoy yourself as much as everybody on screen.

Painfully dull thriller.

The film is smugly hypocritical at every turn, loudly preaching the evils of sick voyeurism while encouraging its audience to cheer every gruesome death. It's not only morally bankrupt but, between the ludicrous script and Z-level acting, scrapes the bottom of the entertainment barrel, too.

If ever a thriller were to inspire a collective "eh," it's got to be The Roommate. It's not a good movie, by any means, but it's also not bad enough to have fun hating on.

The plot is as riddled with holes as Matilda's victims, making her sudden appearances more distracting than distressing.

Does Hollywood have so little to offer women that well-regarded actresses feel obliged to accept demeaning indies like this flatly unfunny, morally vacant comedy?

The martial arts are well represented, the gentler arts -- like, for example, acting -- are not.

To be fair, Sandler deserves some credit for bringing us the first mainstream movie about Chanukah. Too bad it's completely idioticah.

There is no reason a film with an agenda can’t also be engaging or thought-provoking. But what we have here is not so much a movie as a blunt Sunday sermon.

You know how sometimes you have to listen to the boring problems of acquaintances you don't really like? And all the while, you're silently wondering if you remembered to pay your rent? Well, writer/director Alan Hruska has very kindly recreated that experience for us all.

Even if he's slumming, Renner gets it best: his dry delivery fully acknowledges the movie's ridiculousness. If you're planning on entering this fractured fairy tale, you'll want to follow his lead.

While Shepard and Tuck earn a few laughs spoofing the celebrity/enabler relationship, the high points come from the game cameos: Ashton Kutcher, Jon Favreau, and Bradley Cooper are drolly entertaining as A-listers who make it perfectly clear that they're doing their buddy a big favor by appearing in his movie.

The story itself is fairly straightforward, but lands with a thud.

This synthetic comedy is instantly grating.

Awkwardly plotted drama about a runaway child in Central Park.

Kids will love it.

Where the first film was a seminal forerunner of early stalker classics like "Halloween," this version feels as stale as old gingerbread.

"If you don't want something," Twelve informs us, "you've got nothing." Well, I wanted to watch a good movie. But Joel Schumacher's shallow teen drama gave me nothing, instead.

An inferior retread of Marshall's equally contrived "Valentine's Day," only dressed up with coats and confetti.

Where Boll's movies were once amusingly atrocious, Postal is so aggressively tasteless and knowingly idiotic, there's just no fun to be had.

Glatzer's self-consciously quirky indie is misguided on every level.

The one crime a B-movie should never commit is boring its audience. By even these low standards, Shark Night 3D is dead in the water.

A good-natured, gleefully juvenile comedy in the tradition of such classic snowbound fare as 1984's "Hot Dog: The Movie."

Benigni clearly intends to make some impassioned statements about the futility of war, the power of romance, the enduring strength of optimism. However, the once-appealing innocence of his exuberant persona has become curdled over time.

This ill-advised romance from director Andrew Fleming is the sort of indie lark that nearly drowns in its own whimsy. Wade in at your own risk.

She's (Heigl) disastrously miscast as a character beloved by fans of novelist Janet Evanovich.

With all the brooding, stylized closeups of blood, crosses and cigarettes, the overall effect is fashion-mag chic -- not, as intended, intellectual thriller.

With an appealing lead in Cameron, and a nicely brisk pace, there's a decent, midlevel Apocalypse movie here. But be aware that you will have to peel away several pages of the Bible to get to it.

The concept itself is bafflingly empty. We’re never given any reason to respect Teddy or his work — which is built on tired, self-help clichés — so we hardly believe in his rapturous fans.

Phil Alden Robinson’s overheated dramedy feels disconnected from reality in every emotional way.

Having written, co- directed and played the lead in this awkward, ego-driven memoir, Hayata has turned a genuinely compelling life story into an embarrassing vanity production.

Heavily influenced by Guy Ritchie, director Mo gets most of his comic mileage from a Hasidic Jew and an angry dwarf -- which should tell you everything you need to know.

Made in 1998, the picture sags beneath the leaden weight of its pre-millennial theme.

A classic case of good intentions and bad filmmaking.

As generic and forgettable as its title, this half-hearted attempt at a teen comedy feels like a term paper you might buy online: poorly written and cribbed from a million other sources.

The best that can be said about the big-screen Bratz is that they are not nearly as appalling as their toy-shelf twins.

If freshman film students were assigned to make a movie on race relations, this contrived attempt is probably what they'd come up with.

Ellis' stamp is immediately apparent, from the absurdly vapid characters to the undercurrent of barely repressed anger.

This year's installment is as disappointing as a Halloween bag filled with nothing but raisins.

The writing, directing and acting are all so sketchy, it's a mystery that Kattan didn't just try out this material the way he should have -- in a three-minute sketch.

Something of a mess.

Travolta, who delivers an impressively enthusiastic performance, seems to have no idea that he's stuck in one of the year's worst movies. The perpetually pained expression on Williams' face, however, suggests he knows otherwise.

You know what you’re going to get, and that is, indeed, what Sandler delivers. It’s juvenile, it’s obvious and it’s crass. But with Sandler at the helm, at least it’s as easy to like as it is to forget.

Profoundly mediocre supernatural thriller.

As for Jackson, he strolls through the nonsensical story so casually, one suspects his mind is on other things — like what he’ll do with his paycheck. He has probably already moved on. We’ll happily do the same.

If you only want a sequence of slashings, impalements and head-squishings, you'll get your money's worth. But if you like a little movie with your mayhem, you're out of luck.

Phelan makes nice use of the New York locations, but all the trees in Central Park can't make up for a clichéd script and characters who speak entirely in platitudes.

Lacking the requisite post-"Scream" irony, the film is simply a package of gougings, stabbings, drillings and guttings, all tied up with a "twist" ending that anyone with a still-functioning brain could figure out in a matter of minutes.

While there's no fun in mediocrity, ludicrousness is another matter. Boll is the best at what he does, and what he does is make truly terrible films.

A frenetic spoof of 1961's disastrous Bay of Pigs invasion, Company Man is likely to be forgotten quickly by audiences.

Commits the cardinal sin of moviemaking: It leaves you bored.

As appealing as acid-washed jeans, Kickin' It Old Skool exists solely to provide employment for aggressively abrasive comic actor Jamie Kennedy.

Despite the filmmakers' desperate attempts to scandalize us, the only real shock is that a movie this disastrous ever managed to get made.

Do not, in fact, go at all. Because aside from the actual nutcracker, most of the crucial elements are missing from Andrei Konchalovsky's bizarre miscalculation. Magic and joy top the list.

"Vampires" doesn't suck, exactly, but the laziness and lack of imagination kinda bites.

Normally, I'd recommend a movie like this only to diehard fans. But even they may want to wait until it hits cable.

Unfortunately, Vardalos has no one else to blame for a shockingly amateurish effort that goes from bad (her oddly insincere performance) to worse (consistently sloppy camera work) to make-it-stop (it would be an insult to television to call the script sitcomish).