Frank Scheck

It can be definitively stated that Dirty Grandpa is utterly unfunny.

Director Shackleton stages the ultra-violent mayhem with reasonable proficiency but little flair or imagination. And the less said about the dialogue...the better.

An action comedy that nearly renders the term an oxymoron, Killers is devoid of suspense and laughs.

The ideal animated film for Ron Paul to watch with his grandchildren, the bizarre Silver Circle certainly deserves points for sheer eccentricity.

With neither the dramatic nor comedic aspects of the story line being remotely convincing, the best efforts of the talented cast go for naught.

The sole laughs are scored by Robert Davi, amusingly playing it straight as a Muslim terrorist who wants to hire Malone to make a suicide bomber recruitment film.

What seemed sharp and pointed onstage comes across pedantically in the film, which treats its subject with a clumsy heavy-handedness.

Faith of Our Fathers is undone by its wobbly tone, hokey script and amateurish execution.

Too often settles for raunchiness instead of wit.

Clearly aiming for high artistic ground, the film doesn't even satisfy on an arousal level, with the discreet nudity and endless yakking not exactly proving a turn-on.

You'll never play the titular parlor game again after watching Would You Rather, director David Guy Levy’s clever exercise in torture porn that manages to display as much restraint as genuine sickness.

By-the-numbers retread.

Managing to make the films of Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock look like dry, scholarly treatises by comparison, Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed more than lives up to its subtitle.

By the time the proceedings reach their "Paranormal Activity"-style violent conclusion, the viewer’s interest has long since waned.

The action sequences are strictly pro forma and -- despite the sleek killer's resemblance to the similarly lethal heroine of "La Femme Nikita" -- this dull effort lacks the excitement generated by any of its incarnations.

The resulting effort proves so exploitative that its end credits' dedication to the victims and first responders feels tawdry. 9/11 represents a cheapo disaster movie wrapping itself in the piety of one of the nation’s most tragic events.

This is a film so bad that not only was it not screened in advance for critics, it's publicists wouldn't even provide background information. It might as well have been entered into the Witness Protection Program.

The film earns a few laughs thanks to the energetic efforts of its hardworking cast, but they’re decidedly of the hit-or-miss variety.

Grillo uncharacteristically displays no charisma, although considering the material he's working with, it's not surprising that he looks like he simply gave up. Speaking of giving up, Willis, who provides a few sparks to the otherwise lamentable Death Wish remake, here reverts to his by now usual phoning it in.

Long on mood but short on just about everything else, this would-be thriller directed by David Jacobson is as boring as it is baffling.

The filmmakers are clearly most interested in re-creating the murders in a gruesome and repugnant fashion. It's a shame the film is so exploitative, because Howell and especially Turturro deliver chilling, all too convincing performances.

Cavemen has absolutely nothing fresh to say about its subject, and its tired genre conventions wouldn’t pass muster on a Fox sitcom.

For the most part, the proceedings are slow, solemn and tedious.

Replicas manages to be perversely entertaining for its fast-paced first half, if only because of the sheer absurdity of its storyline. But it eventually devolves into tedious thriller tropes.

The good news is that it will be a good 15 years before we're forced to encounter the character again in Spring. Maybe by then he'll be less of a downer.

This second feature based on a best-selling book by Jim Stovall is mainly repetitive in its themes and suffers from a melodramatic plotline and hamfisted execution.

Wit is in short supply, but director Miller at least keeps things moving briskly throughout the relatively brief running time.

Attention, Ben Kingsley (I mean, Sir Ben Kingsley): It's officially time to turn in your Oscar.

The film lazily directed by Warren P. Sonoda barely manages to squeeze a single laugh into its interminable 112-minute running time.

The latest entry in the "This film is so bad we're not screening it for critics" genre.

Ultimately this is utterly forgettable stuff, not even managing to fulfill its mandate of mindless summer fun.

As Finley, Hopkins displays his usual magnetism, even taking the opportunity to play one of his own musical compositions on piano.

Fails to live up to even the feeble potential of its premise.

Despite the dizzying array of talent involved both in front of and behind the camera, this godawful exercise is so painfully unfunny, so screamingly bad that it immediately qualifies as one of the worst films of all time.

The main performers do a reasonably good job of parodying the "Twilight" leads, with Proske particularly effective in subtly lampooning Kristen Stewart's moody mannerisms.

Neither impressive enough to prove inspiring or campy enough to be entertaining, Samson is as underwhelming as its title character if he went bald.

This witless found-footage comedy — doesn’t so much satirize its chosen genre as shamelessly rip it off.

Even by the low standards of the genre it represents, this female teen comedy represents a new nadir.

It ultimately devolves into yet another rote horror film that in this case lives up to its name by also being seriously underlit.

Director Andrzej Bartkowiak ("Romeo Must Die") works hard to supply the appropriate grittiness, but other than a few reasonably well-staged fight sequences, the proceedings are dull and visually uninspired. Justin Marks' solemn screenplay lacks any trace of wit.

Whatever gothic originality the first Human Centipede possessed is altogether lacking in this sorry follow-up.

Demented absurdist comedy that doesn’t just push the envelope in terms of offensive and disgusting content, it folds it neatly and uses it for toilet paper. Desperately striving for cult status that it will never achieve, Assholes could be described as forgettable. Except, sadly, it isn’t.

The hilariously dirty insult comic Lisa Lampanelli shows up all too briefly as Engvall's shrewish wife.

This witlessly antic sex farce about a yuppie substance abuser coping with myriad personal issues during a stint in a rehab facility pretty much fails on every level, other than providing big-screen exposure for a passel of veteran older actors.

At least a fright-wigged Joe Mantegna, delivering an execrable cameo as a whacked-out doctor, has a good excuse for his presence; the writer-director is one of his former film students.

Directed and scripted in boring, incoherent fashion by Francesco Cinquemani, Andron brings new meaning to the word "derivative."

Ironically, the most original aspect of Maximum Impact is its title. Somehow, it has never been used for an action movie before, despite sounding like every one ever made. And after this, it may never be used again.

Silent Hill is not a place you want to go, and that applies for moviegoers as well as this videogame adaptation's characters.

A tediously unfunny comedy that is chiefly distinguished by the fact that it marks one of the last screen appearances by the late Dennis Farina who steals the film as a Tom Clancy-obsessed, would-be military thriller writer.

Judging by the number of Nagels listed in the film's credits, ClownTown would seem to be some sort of family project. A trip to Disneyland's Haunted Mansion would have been a better choice.

Director Patrick Lussier and co-screenwriter Todd Farmer were previously responsible for such enjoyable guilty pleasures as "My Bloody Valentine" and "Drive Angry." Unfortunately, their latest collaboration, Trick, is definitely no treat.

A painfully unfunny, would-be comedy.

It's completely undone by its terrible screenplay, inept direction, oppressive musical score and muddy visual palette.

The sketchy characterizations, laughable dialogue and less-than-stellar performances by the formidable cast, all of whom have done far better work in the past, provide further reasons why Darkness should never have seen the light of day.

Barely qualifies as late-night cable television fodder.

An L.A. Minute simply recycles clichés in an unconvincing matter that smacks more of sitcom tropes than the big screen.

This low-rent frat house comedy is at once far more vulgar and decidedly less anarchic than its obvious inspiration and should flunk out of theaters before this year's crop of freshman students even finish unpacking their bags.

Whatever suspense that might have been generated by the violently gory goings-on is dissipated by the sheer visual incomprehensibility.

Featuring endless scenes that defy credibility..Any Day truly succumbs to mawkishness in its final act.

An awkward mixture of melodrama and whimsical romantic comedy that should make the briefest of appearances in theaters before, like its main character, moving on to other planes. It might serve a valuable purpose if it at least prompts viewers to finally schedule those long delayed colonoscopies.

One of the most egregiously awful horror films in recent memory.

The sort of soft-core, erotic thriller that would benefit from a lot more trash and a lot more sex.

While the original was no classic, it had a few mild laughs and the plus-sized actor displayed a certain buffoonish charm. Such is not the case with this painfully unfunny, slapdash follow-up in which the title character is so relentlessly obnoxious that you'll be cheering for the villains.

More scares are induced by the creepy soundtrack composed by Slash and Nicholas O'Toole than by the perfunctory special effects.

The Rapture won’t come soon enough for the unfortunate souls forced to suffer through Left Behind.

A desperately strained comedy.

The not so fair and balanced film might have made its religious themes palatable if it worked reasonably well as a thriller. But director/screenwriter Lusko shows no flair for the genre, his muddled execution lacking any sense of pacing or suspense.

There certainly are moving moments in this inspiring if necessarily somewhat morbid travelogue... but they’re buried in the sloppiness and self-indulgence that too often marks this vanity project.

This latest installment of the horror movie spoof franchise is mainly notable for its Charlie Sheen/Lindsay Lohan cameos.

There have been films that treated Nazi doctors conducting evil experiments in concentration camps more sympathetically.

A low-rent, post-apocalyptic sci-fi tale that doesn't succeed as either homage or parody of such obvious inspirations as the Mad Max series, Future World proves as original as its title

Unfortunately, the R rating will prohibit the target audience -- namely teenage boys who find penis jokes endlessly hilarious - from seeing this relentlessly unfunny and vulgar effort until it shows up on video and cable.

Barely managing to fill its brief running time despite its surfeit of smuttily vulgar gags, 3 Geezers! proves a less than subtle argument for euthanasia.

The Walking Deceased is strictly DOA.

Writer-directors Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer basically reprise the tired formula from their earlier efforts, which is to throw in as many pop culture references as possible to cover up the lack of any real wit.

Jewtopia feels like a failed sitcom pilot that might have been created by Jackie Mason.

Starring a miscast Hilary Duff in the title role, The Haunting of Sharon Tate deserves the instant obscurity for which it is certainly destined.

Featuring unlikeable characters, preposterously contrived plotting, ham-fisted dialogue and strained attempts at poeticism, Among Ravens is a misfire on every level.

The lame gags, ineptly staged, don't produce anything in the way of genuine laughs, though there is the occasional funny line.

Featuring a non-stop barrage of gross-out effects depicting the substances that its title would indicate, this low-brow horror film is mainly suitable for audiences desperately pining for yet another "Toxic Avenger" sequel.

In its tiresome attempts to send up its star's image and not take itself too seriously, the film becomes exceedingly laborious.

Grizzly II: Revenge is so bad, it's just bad.

Ultimately best suited for the confines of late-night cable.

To say that Melania is a hagiography would be an insult to hagiographies. This is a film that fawns so lavishly over its subject that you feel downright unpatriotic not gushing over it.

Laughably inept on every technical level and representing the sort of badness that falls far short of being campy fun, Contract to Kill is strictly DOA.

This low-rent, convoluted tale about a young woman returning home to solve the mystery of her mother’s violent death is amateurish to the extreme.

Utterly lacking nuance and any sense of proportion, the irresponsible film depicts Democrats not as possessing misguided political ideas but rather as "depraved crooks" and "hateful people."

Offering nary a single funny moment in its seemingly endless 84 minutes, the film...provides evidence that cinematic sketch comedy is clearly a lost art. The inevitable outtakes seen during the end credits seem to indicate that the actors, at least, were having fun. Too bad none of it managed to find its way onto the screen.

Laughs are virtually non-existent.

Even without the cloud of the recent disturbing developments, United Passions is a cringeworthy, self-aggrandizing affair that mainly benefits from its unintentional camp value.

For all of its incendiary arguments, Death of a Nation is ultimately tedious and repetitive. No one expects, of course, that D'Souza would make a thoughtful, balanced or historically accurate documentary. But is it unreasonable to hope that he make one that doesn't bore the pants off us?

Amateurishly shot, written and acted, the film lacks any redeeming values to compensate for its horrific aesthetic.

The latest example of J-horror to reach our shores, Takeshi Furusawa's Ghost Train demonstrates that the increasingly tired genre may be in need of a serious overhaul.

Although clearly a labor of love for its creator, this coming-of-age tale about a life-changing summer for a young man dreaming of becoming an artist lacks the dramatic momentum to propel audience interest.

The film is narrated by Kathleen Turner in her inimitable husky style, with the actress receiving a final credit as one of the volunteers at ground zero.

So muted and internal in its focus that its entire running time feels like a preamble to a drama that never quite begins.

Most notable for its evocative photography of the bleak Oklahoma landscapes and for the memorable turns by its two leads, who bring a haunting, world-weary gravitas to their performances that feels utterly authentic.

The film, which received its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival, no doubt will become a mainstay of university film courses.

A faux black-and-white silent film that will gain immeasurably from its road show presentations, Louis is more of a novelty than a satisfying cinematic experience.

Dead Awake, now receiving a limited theatrical release, is the sort of B-movie effort that so screams "direct to video" that it's a wonder they don't hand you DVDs as you enter the theater.

More stylishly filmed than many others of its ilk, but at the end of the day, is just an ordinary slasher film.

Benasra's documentary purports to be a sociological examination of the intimate relationship between women and their shoes. But God Save My Shoes also displays a creepily fetishistic feel.

The bottom line: Mirthless and unmoving drama about a depressed stand-up comedian finding a new life as a kindergarten teacher.

Other than providing yet another meta-theatrical examination of the ever-blurring line between reality and artifice, Janeane From Des Moines emerges as a pointless affair.

The Prosecution of an American President demonstrates that you can be deeply sympathetic to a film's arguments and still come away feeling unconvinced.

If the dreary Mystical Laws was designed by its creating organization as some sort of recruitment tool, then they clearly have a lot to learn from the Scientologists.

Aggressively quirky but lacking any real wit - unless you consider a lengthy monologue about the taste of semen to be side-splittingly funny - the film based on David Gilbert's satirical novel is a non-starter.

Designed as a family film adventure promoting positive values, it’s a sort of teenage "Raiders of the Lost Ark" that will provide mild diversion for very young audiences.

Its highly informative recounting of this little-known tragic tale provides a vivid reminder of the ephemerality of civilizations.

While its blending of philosophy and B-movie conventions will produce more bemused chuckles than converts, the film certainly earns points for sheer audacity.

This endlessly derivative, nearly unwatchable effort from debuting Italian director Christian Filipella is amateurish on every level.

You know a movie’s in trouble when it’s most dramatic element is the breaking of a piñata.

Although ragged in its presentation and frustratingly unfocused in its storytelling, Babe’s and Ricky’s Inn is an endearing cinematic valentine that pays well-deserved tribute to a vanished musical institution.

Attempting to be a meditation on the nature of creative passion and the emotionally liberating effects of physical labor, Triumph of the Wall is as much of an exercise in frustration for the viewer as for its hapless protagonist.

Featuring a plethora of unsavory characters, undeveloped subplots and a confusingly jagged narrative, this extremely low-budget effort is mainly notable for its willingness to get down and dirty.

Doesn’t exactly dig very deep, but its often fascinating archival footage and stories of royal lineage dating back to the days of Queen Victoria (who bore no less than nine children) surely will delight devoted Anglophiles.

A Strange Brand of Happy is being billed as a “faith-friendly romantic comedy,” but its overall ineptness has the inadvertent impact of making you lose faith in romantic comedies altogether.

It offers scant insight to go along with its simplistic homilies about the power of faith and the reassuring presence of God.

None of the characters,--whether human, fantastical, or anthropomorphically animal—prove remotely engaging. And the cheap animation, the sort of low-grade CGI endemic to endless direct-to-video efforts, proves visually unappealing.

The film is more impressionistic than informative, lacking the necessary dramatic structure to make it truly compelling.

A quietly effective thriller with a few clever narrative tricks up its sleeve.

The proceedings are largely engrossing and the performances are mostly excellent, with especially strong turns by the female leads.

Whatever doubts the viewer may share about the true circumstances of this tragic event are quickly erased by the ineptness with which the story is dramatized.

This fascinating tale is told with uncommon depth and nuance.

Although the situation seems to have thankfully been resolved several years ago due to the pressure applied by governments and international organizations, Desert Riders nonetheless serves as a bracing cautionary tale.

Despite some evocative moments...the film is too elliptical and fragmented to have the desired impact. It ultimately leaves the viewer, much like its hero, in a state of dazed confusion.

School Dance is the sort of oppressively offensive comedy that makes you aware of your brain cells dying as you watch it.

Strong performances by Lily Rabe and LisaGay Hamilton aren’t quite enough to redeem Redemption Trail.

While its provocative themes certainly bear exploring in our sex-obsessed societal landscape, The Olivia Experiment is too superficial and cliche-ridden to make them resonate, and its attempts at humor fall thuddingly flat.

John Wellington Ennis’ scattershot documentary has many relevant points to make, but the problem is that they’re not made very well and almost all of them have been made before.

A fly-on-the-wall portrait that provides a vivid reminder that children around the world don't have it nearly as lucky as those in America, with the daunting, UNICEF-provided statistics delivered at the end hopefully inciting a spur to action.

Henry & Me is a heartwarming tale that should prove irresistible to young baseball fans.

Stones in the Sun occasionally suffers from didactic excess but nonetheless offers an intriguing look at this underexposed community.

A Little Game is a sweetly well-intentioned effort that displays a personal stamp even while occasionally descending into mawkishness.

Despite the storyline's inherent drama, the meandering Freetown, much like the characters it depicts, takes far too long to get to its destination.

Proceeding at a glacial pace, the film bearing no small resemblance to the far superior "Girl, Interrupted."

This is not to say that there isn't plenty of obvious truth and common sense in many of the film's assertions. But then again, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

Despite its effort to double as a sincerely impassioned message about female empowerment, My Way mainly comes across as a relentlessly self-serving promotional vehicle.

The film is most successful when it concentrates on its subject’s personal life. His candor in discussing his sexuality and other subjects is endlessly refreshing in this era when politicians are mostly defined by their timidity.

Featuring enough clanging sword fights, severed limbs, slit throats and bare-bones dialogue to satisfy genre fans while pretty much failing to provide something of interest to anyone else, Sword of Vengeance has the feel of an 11th century-set video game.

The film never quite registers with the desired emotional impact, having the feel of an ambiguous short story rather than a fully-fleshed out drama. But the evocative imagery and subtly piercing performances provide a vivid portrait of lives of quiet desperation.

While it might have made for a mildly diverting stage thriller — the hugely successful Deathtrap, for instance, was built on similarly absurd contrivances — the endlessly talky 3 Holes and a Smoking Gun founders onscreen.

Don't watch the new documentary The Lost Key if you want to have good sex. Well, to be accurate, don't watch The Lost Key while you're actually having sex. A strict taboo on televisions in the bedroom is one of the tenets laid down in this film whose tagline promises "The Universal Secret of Jewish Sexuality Revealed."

Pod has a hallucinatory quality that makes up in ferocity what it lacks on cogent storytelling.

Schilling the director proves even less adept than Schilling the screenwriter, bathing the melodramatic proceedings in an overbearing musical score more appropriate for a daytime soap.

Making the most of its limited budget, Blood Punch is an audacious, gruesomely violent and darkly funny thriller that enjoys messing with its viewers' minds.

Meyer, whose credits include co-directing and co-editing the classic Grey Gardens, largely employs a fly-on-the-wall approach here that sometimes makes for less than compelling viewing. Nonetheless, the film earns points for the importance of its message.

Director Bafaro shows little aptitude for the driving sequences which are stunningly dull in their repetitiveness and lack of visual flair. Shot largely from the driver's perspective and rarely bothering to show both vehicles in the same frame, Wrecker feels like an endless ride to nowhere.

Even for those younger viewers who won't succumb to nostalgic reveries, Taken by Storm is a fascinating music doc that showcases the artist behind those memorable images.

Despite its inspiring real-life tale and its laudable message, Godspeed is too flimsily constructed and crudely amateurish to have much of an impact.

A bit too rambling and diffuse to be fully educational, We Weren't Just Bicycle Thieves nonetheless serves as a valuable introduction to its subject.

This example of the rape-revenge film genre (who knew?) serves up its raw meat for its target audience with reasonable efficiency, although the surplus of ultraviolent fantasy sequences quickly proves wearisome.

The characters are defined in the sketchiest of terms, with Julia herself emerging as little more than a cipher. But as ciphers go, she's an arresting one, with Williams using her large, expressive eyes to powerful effect.

Lacking much in the way of narrative and not quite succeeding as a character study — Irene remains an opaque character throughout, and we learn little of her backstory — Homemakers nonetheless exerts a certain fascination with its spirited atmosphere and often quirky humor.

The Boy From Geita is a harrowing depiction of ignorance and superstition run amuck.

Unfortunately, Sex, Death and Bowling is as ungainly and overstuffed as its title, filled with enough dysfunctional family drama and quirky indie comedy tropes to fuel an entire film festival.

The film seems more appropriate for a testimonial dinner than theater screens, with virtually no voices heard from outside Larsen's colleagues and acolytes.

It may be Hot Sugar's Cold World, but that doesn't mean we have to live in it.

Other than undeniably looking good, Harding is unable to bring much depth to his role that, if the film had been shot closer to the period in which it was set, could have been knocked out of the park by a young Pacino or De Niro.

Its intriguing premise devolving into familiar genre conventions, 400 Days also suffers from clichéd characters and strained dialogue.

You need more than a little faith to endure Carl Lauten's stylistically ambitious but hackneyed faith-based film that infuses its treacly love story with heavy doses of CGI animation and even heavier doses of Christian moralizing.

Despite its promising set-up, Hostile Border lacks narrative tension, with the screenplay by co-director Kaitlin McLaughlin never quite coming into dramatic focus. The characterizations feel sketchy, and the paucity of dialogue proves more frustrating than atmospheric.

While the performers are appealing, 3rd Street Blackout is a too determinedly quirky affair to fully mine the comic potential of its clever premise. Much like its setting, the film could have used more energy.

Queen Mimi registers as little more than a minor curiosity.

The film's strength lies in its honest and realistic portrayal of mental illness and the toll it exacts on those in its sufferer's orbit.

Puts a human face on the issue of income inequality.

Although it's hard to avoid the feeling of invading their privacy at times, the viewer becomes thoroughly invested in the fate of the film's subjects.

There's nary a single B-action movie cliché missed.

The dynamic ski chases are the most exciting, not to mention novel, element of this medieval epic, although there's plenty of fighting with swords, axes, crossbows, and bows and arrows as well.

Addressing its serious themes with subtle and insightful humor, Divine Access is a quiet gem.

Uneasily blending familiar horror tropes with forced attempts at slapstick humor, Crush the Skull doesn't fully succeed in either genre, although it does provide occasional laughs along the way.

Traded features nary an original element but nonetheless registers as a solid if minor oater.

Qasim Basir's indie drama Destined proves both uncommonly ambitious and frustratingly derivative.

It's all about as dreary as the constant rainfall featured as part of the Portland, Ore., setting, and the director, when he's not leeringly photographing his leading lady's naked body in the shower, vainly tries to up the scare ante by periodically raising the soundtrack volume to intolerable levels.

Derivative to such a degree that it seems almost a parody of its genre that has lost significant box-office steam, Maximum Ride is so ineptly executed that it might as well feature its own Mystery Science Theater 3000 soundtrack.

Sketchy with biographical information, An Art That Nature Makes is sometimes frustrating in its lack of context and wandering focus. But the filmmaker serves her subject well with her excellent presentation of many examples of Purcell's work from throughout her long career.

While lacking the technical polish necessary to lift it into a more elevated cinematic dimension, Philip T. Johnson's directorial debut earns points for its thematic ambitions and cheeky wit.

This overlong and amateurish effort only serves to demonstrate that noble intentions and sincerity aren't enough to make for compelling drama.

Tell Me How I Die doesn't even have the smarts to be snappily paced. By the time the seemingly endless film reaches its conclusion, the title will seem like wish fulfillment.

A bizarre mixture of black comedy and horror/suspense, Happy Birthday is a juvenile effort that at least has the decency to make its American and Mexican characters look equally bad.

The action sequences and gun battles are staged with enough flair to satisfy genre fans who haven't gotten their fill with the recent Magnificent Seven remake.

It features heartbreaking and horrific images that sear indelibly into your brain.

Although it contains many fascinating elements, Never Surrender: The Ed Ramsey Story emerges as a hagiographic and frustratingly self-indulgent exercise.

the film mainly advocates for the creation of the Behavioral Health Corps (BHC) as a division of the Defense Department that would consolidate mental health services throughout all military branches. The case it makes for its necessity feels impossible to refute.

This timely film makes for highly compelling viewing and demands to be seen.

Although clearly intended to be brimming with symbolical meanings, Lost and Beautiful — which at least is visually striking, thanks to being shot on expired 16mm film stock — never finds sufficient cinematic poetry in its dreamlike storytelling infused with neo-realistic elements.

Director Conor Allyn’s idea of enhancing a fight scene is employing such stale devices as freeze frames and split screens.

Disjointed and confusing, the film fails to live up to the promise of its spooky setting. There’s a good horror film to be made from this story, but The Axe Murders of Villisca isn’t it.

It’s all about as clichéd and predictable as it sounds, although the proceedings are mildly enjoyable in an old-fashioned, Andy Hardy sort of way.

Alternately registering as an homage and rip-off of the countless slasher pics that have preceded it, Pitchfork is a strictly disposable affair.

The overpowering air of familiarity to this rip-off pretending to be homage makes it redundant.

The real crime, rather, is how utterly boring it all is.

A lame would-be comedy that wouldn’t be any funnier even if you were smoking the most powerful weed on the planet while watching it, Doobious Sources is a total bummer, man.

Despite the strong efforts of everyone involved, Havenhurst proves all too unimaginative in its formulaic recycling of genre tropes.

Danger Close provides a vivid portrait of combat and its emotional and physical aftermath. But despite its harrowing footage and moving elements, the film may feel all too familiar to viewers who have become numb in the face of seemingly countless other similar efforts.

While its intriguing setup sounds like it could make for a provocative and original thriller, The Dark Below never lives up to its promise, although it earns points for originality.

Although imparting an important message about the devastating effects of global warming, The Penguin Counters is too rambling and diffuse to have significant impact while lacking the accessible qualities that would make it appeal to younger audiences.

The Scent of Rain and Lightning is a well-acted, intelligent thriller that ultimately rewards the viewer's patience even if it too often sacrifices narrative clarity in favor of atmosphere.

Director Alex Merkin does reasonably well with an obviously low budget, and the screenplay by Jesse Mittelstadt thankfully doesn't take itself too seriously. That's not to say it's good, mind you, with the film's last line, delivered by Richards, definitely not destined to go down in screen history.

This affectionate portrait includes extensive interviews with Wertmuller, who remains vital in her late 80s, as well as performance footage of her singing her original compositions.

The film has its sporadic pleasures, mostly provided by Bella, who effectively conveys Destiny’s enjoyment of her over-the-top murderous and sexy antics, and Michael Madsen, as Lisa’s supportive stepdad.

Goss, who by any standard is the real star of the film, displays charismatic intensity and impressive physicality.

Almost Sunrise makes for powerful viewing.

Often lapsing into attempts at broad comedy that don’t quite come off, the tonally wobbly The Conway Curve is most notable for the appealing lead performance by Veronica Wylie.

Diffuse and rambling, the documentary offers plenty of fascinating historical tidbits but lacks the breadth and depth to do justice to its complicated narrative.

The film ultimately becomes bogged down by its meandering dialogue, generic characterizations and such mild attempts at suspense as one of the quintet worrying about a brother in New York City.

Intending to shed insight on the philosophies that led them to their victories Winning too often feels like an intertwined series of inspirational television newsmagazine segments.

Failing to provide any backstory or psychological motivation for the killer’s actions, the film essentially devolves into torture porn.

The film is frustratingly disjointed and hard to follow at times as it inundates viewers with a torrent of information. Nonetheless, it proves compulsively fascinating.

Ultimately, of course, Wakefield himself is beside the point. The controversy over vaccinations will rage on and this cinematic portrait will merely be a footnote. But it proves a compelling one, however you may feel about the burning issue.

It’s the sort of self-regarding, preachy documentary that should be sold in health food stores, not shown in theaters.

Although its central issue is sadly familiar (but hopefully won’t be for much longer), No Dress Code Required offers a heartwarming affirmation that decency sometimes prevails.

Featuring a terrific performance by Ryan Barton-Grimley in the lead role, Repatriation is a modest indie film worth seeking out.

Maslow and Pepe's attractiveness and charm go a long way toward making the proceedings palatable. While we're never actually invested in the fate of their characters' relationship, they make the 90-minute running time go by fairly painlessly.

The narrative frequently wanders into unfulfilling tangents, several of the characters are barely developed and we never get a sure sense of where the story is supposed to be going.

Its running time is a mere 78 minutes, but the pic feels like it takes much longer getting to nowhere particularly interesting.

Veterans Englund and Shaye admirably give it their all, but their best efforts are not enough to elevate the subpar material directed in mechanical fashion by Zariwny.

There’s also just enough well-earned sentiment thrown in to provide a nice counterpoint to the farcical humor.

Thankfully devoid of the fantasy elements endemic to so many cinematic versions of YA novels, Kepler's Dream proves a modest but diverting family film charmer.

It's hard to entirely resist the film's cheerful self-awareness of its limitations or the committedly loony performances by the performers who seem to be having a good time.

The formulaic writing and stilted direction conspire to bring the movie, and these talents, down time and time again.

You all too vividly feel the strenuous efforts of everyone involved, from the actors struggling to bring life to their one-note characters while hitting all their marks to the cinematographer keeping his camera aimed exactly where it's supposed to be.

A mishmash of action movie and buddy-cop clichés rendered in incompetent fashion, this wink-wink homage to 1991's Showdown in Little Tokyo makes its inspiration seem like a classic.

Despite its flaws, the film proves very moving at times. The characterizations which start out excessively quirky eventually become subtler and more nuanced.

The Misguided has its amusing moments but ultimately seems as aimless as the figures at its center.

The mishmash of styles smacks of a "let's throw in everything but the kitchen sink" approach that becomes increasingly tiresome the longer it goes on and feels more like a horror anthology than a cohesive story. Nonetheless, there's no denying that the film could well please hardcore genre aficionados for whom more is always better.

True to its title, Los Angeles Overnight makes excellent use of its extensive L.A. locations, thankfully foregoing the familiar landmarks that have become cinematic clichés. It's a shame, then, that the film doesn't succeed in its ambition to infuse noir tropes with originality.

The dialogue is frequently fun and snappy, and the colorful supporting characters help to sustain our interest.

Class Rank combines satire with teen romance in sweetly innocuous, but not particularly memorable, fashion.

Lacking suspense and at times bordering on unintentional silliness in its characterizations, the film is a misfire that sorely disappoints as it comes from the director of such acclaimed efforts as The Syrian Bride and The Lemon Tree.

Nana proves another valuable addition to the Holocaust documentary canon, exploring Maryla's important legacy in devoting much of her later years to educating people about the horrors she experienced and witnessed.

That the film works at all is due to the performances of Smollett-Bell, who is natural and appealing, and Pierce, who infuses his low-key portrayal with his usual deep soulfulness. But their fine efforts are not enough to lift the mediocre One Last Thing above its basic cable-level veneer.

Heading Home: The Tale of Team Israel emerges as a messy hybrid that has some interesting and amusing moments but ultimately feels as inauthentic as the team it chronicles.

No doubt the film has noble intentions, but its absurdly over-the-top, practically fetishistic approach undermines its very aims.

The screenplay co-written by Clark and Thomas Moffett attempts to derive much humor from Atticus' relentless debauchery, but it all feels pro forma and repetitive.

While Hope Springs Eternal lacks the depth and pathos of such similarly themed films as Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, it delivers its relevant message with a refreshing breeziness.

Displaying an amateurishness that undercuts even its more promising elements, Hell Mountain is the sort of instantly forgettable cheapie effort that has become all too prevalent in movie theaters and VOD listings. This one is for hard-core horror movie completists only.

The filmmaking and performances are so amateurish that any possibility of even the guiltiest of pleasures are quickly erased.

There's nothing inherently wrong with agitprop cinema, of which this is a prime example. But passion and righteousness are not enough to make a satisfying film. Cohesion and rational arguments are necessary as well.

Diane falters toward the end, with the story's denouement not quite living up to the provocative set-up. But it nonetheless exerts a fascinating pull that makes you very interested to see what its talented filmmaker comes up with next.

The director ratchets up the tension slowly but assuredly, making excellent use of the atmospheric locations including London and Cairo and assuredly evoking the early '70s time frame.

So understated in both its dramatic and comedic aspects that it fails to make any real impression whatsoever, Dr. Brinks & Dr. Brinks demonstrates little reason for being.

What does emerge is a vivid portrait of a brilliant and multi-faceted man of ideas who charmed his enemies as well as his friends.

It's so distinctive, in fact, that that it's hard to tell exactly whether it's sublime or terrible, but either way, it's one of a kind.

For all its effective camerawork and editing, the film can't fully convey the experience of seeing its subject in person. But it certainly provides more than enough motivation for making every effort to do so.

Hospitality is the sort of film that looks like a thriller, feels like a thriller and essentially plays out like a thriller. The only thing it forgets to do is provide any actual thrills.

A solid ensemble, including many acting veterans, manages to make the film, on which Bobby Farrelly served as one of the executive producers, a diverting holiday comedy.

Strictly for the most obsessive fans of the series, The Gilligan Manifesto mainly demonstrates the pitfalls of intellectuals having too much time on their hands.

Being Rose suffers from its plot contrivances and cliched characters, but it means well and that counts for a lot. It's hard not to get caught up in Rose's fate, especially with Shepherd infusing her portrayal of the spunky character with subtle grace notes. Brolin is equally good, movingly conveying the loneliness and pathos underlying Max's good humor.

Although the procession of talking heads inevitably gives the film a static quality, the visual tedium is alleviated by the filmmaker's handsome cinematography and the picturesque locations in which many of the interviews were shot.

This indie drama simply lacks the necessary cinematic tension. Despite fine performances from its lead performers, the film never fully comes to life.

Director Fei Xing stages the violent mayhem in exuberantly giddy fashion, although it all has the feeling of a group of randomly assembled film clips rather than a coherent narrative.

Simmering and subdued, this '90s-set teen drama with supernatural elements features an intriguing premise but doesn't quite seem to know what to do with it. Such restraint is admirable in a genre not known for it, but it results in the film feeling more tepid than it should have been.

Virtually nothing of real interest happens in the first half, with the excitement only kicking in around the 45-minute mark. Fortunately, what follows is scary and involving enough to make the lengthy build-up seem worth the wait.

Writer-director Bilandic fails to infuse the painfully thin proceedings with any narrative momentum or comic flair, resulting in an oppressive weirdness for weirdness' sake.

The doc doesn't really delve deeply enough into its important subject, but it does have the advantage of being the first out of the gate.

It periodically exhibits flabbiness throughout its overlong running time and sometimes has the contrived air of a promotional video. But it nonetheless serves as a powerful portrait of its subjects who overcame severe adversity and continue to make music.

An Affair to Die For is an erotic thriller with pretensions to the sort of clever whodunnit theatrics of Agatha Christie. But "Murder on the Orient Express" seems like child's play compared to this film's screenplay by Elliot San that is too clever by half.

This unearthed cinematic nugget provides further evidence, not that any was necessary, of the legendary performer's magnetism and musical virtuosity.

One Million American Dreams makes a valuable contribution to the argument that the city's forgotten people surely deserve better.

The Unicorn walks a fine line between sensitive observation and voyeurism, frequently tipping over into the latter. It's certainly an uncomfortable film to watch, but the viewer's discomfort doesn't begin to compare to that felt by the troubled people onscreen.

A potentially taut thriller is marred by frequently laughable dialogue in Matthew Montgomery's debut feature.

It's an intelligent, well-done pic whose restraint can be commended. But it also operates at such a slow burn that it comes close to fizzling out completely.

Unfortunately, while Long Lost has its moments, it ultimately fails to capitalize on its intriguing premise.

While the film doesn't break any new ground either in terms of substance or style, it packs a quiet punch.

Those who grew up reading Scary Stores to Tell in the Dark will no doubt be thrilled by this cinematic tribute. And those who didn't may find themselves compelled to read the books to find out for themselves what all the fuss is about.

The plot machinations of Stuart Flack's screenplay can be seen from a mile away, but that doesn't make this familiar tale of a vengeful, obsessed woman any less satisfying.

The latest indie effort from writer-director Jérôme Cohen-Olivar (The Midnight Orchestra, Kandisha) modestly succeeds in its modest genre goals, particularly benefiting from its exotic locations. But don't look for anything particularly original in The 16th Episode (originally titled Little Horror Movie), which mainly traffics in overly familiar tropes.

Miki Wecel's film will prove fascinating not only to animation and Vincent Van Gogh buffs, but to anyone interested in how the creative sausage is made.

The charmingly offbeat effort features the sort of sly, deadpan humor that quietly sneaks up on you, as well as valuable lessons about the need to get out of one's comfort zone.

Itsy Bitsy works well enough on its own terms, providing some genuine jolts and benefiting from the excellent performances.

Brenner, who also produced, is an absolute delight, demonstrating sharp comic delivery and looking like she's firmly enjoying her character's ability to outwit everyone around her.

Aside from its novel premise, however, Madam Yankelova's Fine Literature Club proves a darkly witty effort that weaves insightful observations about female sexuality and aging into its provocative mix.

Despite its very brief running time, the film feels plodding, never quite managing to land either the intended dark humor or scares to which it aspires. You can admire its ambitions but lament the missed opportunities.

The resulting biographical drama squanders its compelling central storyline with a lengthy subplot involving crooked cops. Even if the incident is true, it lends an unnecessarily melodramatic tinge to what could have stood on its own as a powerful inspirational story.

While one of the first rules of writing is to write what you know, Sabet's romantic comedy demonstrates that not everything that actually happens to you can be mined for comedic gold. The picture starts out promisingly enough, but eventually sinks under the weight of its implausibilities.

Unfortunately, Every Time I Die doesn't quite have the cinematic polish to live up to its considerable aspirations, resulting in a frustratingly opaque viewing experience.

This is a documentary that will best be appreciated not by fans of The Little Prince but rather by linguists and ethnographers.

While The Last Photograph ultimately feels too narratively slight to justify even its brief 85-minute running time, the intriguing film demonstrates that the actor should follow in his legendary father's directorial footsteps more often.

Modine makes it work anyway thanks to his charm and charisma. His enjoyably playful performance helps prevent Miss Virginia from feeling entirely like an issue-of-the-week television movie.

Although stylishly made and featuring a compelling lead performance by Trevor Long (Netflix's Ozark), Seeds never takes root.

A moving and powerful portrait of trauma and recovery, Cracked Up will likely prove as therapeutic for many viewers as it clearly is for Hammond himself.

The documentary, largely alternating between scenes of the poets engaging in freewheeling conversations and performing their works, comes to feel talky and claustrophobic at times (cinematographer Peter Eliot Buntaine keeps his camera uncomfortably close). But it gains urgency as it goes along.

The film's relentless artiness ultimately proves more off-putting than involving, distancing us from what should be a harrowing tale.

To paraphrase an old joke, this raucous alta kocker comedy, about a long-married Jewish couple experiencing a day from hell, isn't really very good. And the running time is so short! But the film is impossible to entirely dislike nonetheless.

Blumhouse has certainly proved very successful with its inventive, low-budget approach to horror, but now that the company is spewing out movies like an assembly line, more and more duds are starting to appear. Everything about this effort, including its hackneyed, overfamiliar title, smacks of laziness and a cynical indifference to its lack of originality.

It can't be denied that Gift occasionally borders on being too New Agey for its own good, and, let's face it, its entire ethos can be boiled down to the simple phrase "Pay it forward." But don't be surprised if you're compelled to perform an unexpected act of generosity soon after seeing it.

Infused with enough deadening scientific jargon to lull a graduate student to sleep, the film, which feels much longer than its brief 80-minute running time, never succeeds in effectively dramatizing its outlandish premise.

The film, directed by Danny Gold, offers an alternately moving and amusing exercise in infectious nostalgia that should prove appealing even to viewers who weren't in the 1949 graduating class of DeWitt Clinton High School.

Playing Kane, a flamboyant crime boss who lives up to his name by using a walking stick, Flanery chews the scenery with gusto, as if auditioning for the next Quentin Tarantino movie. He's the most enjoyable element in what otherwise proves a flimsy vehicle for its producer/star Natalie Burn.

Delivers enough tense atmospherics to make it worth checking out for sci-fi fans.

Revolving around the recollections of Barrie Wentzell, who served as the magazine's chief photographer from 1965 to 1975, and several of his colleagues, Melody Makers will make music lovers desperately wish for a time machine to return to those halcyon days.

There's nothing at all original about Locusts, from its rather too symbolic title to its all-too-contrived plot. But director Davis, working in collaboration with producer-director Angus Watts, has crafted an uncommonly stylistic example of its genre, infused with mordant humor and, true to its locale, plenty of exotic dead animals lying in the road.

Unfortunately, the film's execution doesn't quite live up to its promising set-up. Feeling attenuated despite its brief 84-minute running time, it too often seems like an unnecessarily stretched-out version of the short film it was originally conceived as. Not that it doesn't offer some compelling moments along the way.

There has been no shortage of first-hand accounts of this horrific period in history, nor of films relating to the topic. With its haunting story of one young life irretrievably shattered and another tragically lost, Broken Dreams proves one of the most powerful.

Like his (Farrands) previous effort, this film takes a real-life tragedy and manages to treat it in horribly tawdry and tediously uninteresting fashion.