Elizabeth Weitzman

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.

While all four leads deserve better, it's especially galling to see Burstyn - still so lovely - wasting her time and talents on a film with so little wisdom to share.

The performances are expert, but can't make up for a flat script and direction. Unless you, like Claire, are a glutton for punishment, we suggest you choose nothing over something.

What's most notable about this aggressively cynical project is how much talent it wastes.

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.

Unfortunately, this strained comedy relies entirely on clichés and contrivances to tell the story of Sherman.

The Box is its own kind of awful, a disconnected mess that never finds its reason for being.

This Spanish sequel to a 2007 cult hit uses the way-overdone conceit of videotaped terror.

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.

While plenty of gross-out comedies have come and gone in the last two decades, Leslye Headland's Bachelorette may be the most vulgar of them all.

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

Grim, bloody and relentless, without even a spark of fun or intelligence, Evil is barely good enough for late-night cable.

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.

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

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

Dumber than the worst UPN sitcom.

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

The truth is, no review could really do justice to the monumental trashiness of this mess; it really has to be seen to be believed. Although if Lohan is lucky, no one will bother.

Just because Dimension considered Greg McLean's nasty exploitation flick worthy of their time and money doesn't mean it deserves yours.

Racist, misogynistic and breath­takingly cynical, Ernest Dickerson's clichéd crime drama Never Die Alone shamelessly exploits the degrada­tion of its irredeemable characters.

The cinematic equivalent of a gangsta rap song, State Property is little more than a marketing tool for Roc-A-Fella Records.

Every movie's gotta have a gimmick, and Crank's is that it has an excellent shot at ending 2006 as the worst film of the year.

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

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

With its amateurish performances and sloppy script, Hey, Happy! has the homemade feel of a cult movie, but very little of the charm.

Where's the comedy?

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

Don’t be fooled by the smoke and mirrors. There is nothing here that is great, or powerful. Worst of all, there’s nothing here that even feels like Oz.

This failed epic — really, an epic failure — would barely be noticed, were it not for former Oscar-winner Nicolas Cage taking on a “Sharknado”-quality remake of a Kirk Cameron movie.

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

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

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

Rare is the film so ineptly made that it barely deserves the dignity of a review. Which, on the one hand, makes this slapdash horror romance somewhat unusual. On the other, however, you’re wasting valuable time just reading about it.

Here’s hoping Bruce Willis bought something special with whatever cash he earned from this pointless, brutally ugly rehash of 1973’s “Westworld.”

"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.

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.

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

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?