Lou Lumenick

There's still no good reason to suffer through a half-baked little movie that proves indies can be every bit as boringly formulaic and artistically bankrupt as their big-budget brethren.

This joyless, 10-megaton bomb fails in just about every imaginable way, as well as some you couldn’t possibly imagine.

Solid cast notwithstanding, 10th and Wolf is a generic, direct-to-video-grade gangster movie.

A slow-moving, ridiculous police thriller that would have been shipped straight to the remainder bin at Blockbuster if it starred anyone else.

While sporadically funny, the sophomoric My Name Is Bruce is no "Bubba Ho-Tep," the movie where Campbell unforgettably played Elvis Presley as a nursing home patient battling a mummy with the help of John F. Kennedy. But Campbell's fans can feel free to add a star or two.

A charmless, unscary, fatuous and largely incoherent fairy tale.

A very belated and very silly follow-up to "Death Wish."

Any way you slice it, A Tale of Two Pizzas is so ineptly written and directed that it's pretty soggy entertainment.

The choppily edited and thoroughly wooden Serena utterly fails to catch fire, even when everything literally goes up in flames. So despite its big stars, it’s getting only a token theatrical release.

First-time writer-director Mark Hanlon lands only glancing blows in this grim black comedy.

It's almost worth the price of admission to see Allen paying homage to "Singin' in the Rain" in the final sequence. Almost.

We began this dismal movie season with one lethally bad World War II romance -- "Pearl Harbor" -- and now we're wrapping up with another howling dog.

Devotes most of its energy to its costumes and makeup, which are fabulous. But that and a tabloid-worthy star just aren't enough to revisit this sordid tale as a kind of twisted comedy.

Gets sillier and sillier as it goes along.

Wastes some veteran performers in a slight, silly musical fantasy with two left feet.

A shrill farce that strains credibility even by the standards of black comedy.

A glitzy and shallow satire about shallow people.

Laughs are few and far between in the innuendo-laden script attributed to Dana Fox, who's also responsible for the reprehensible "The Wedding Date."

It's a testament to Goodwin's skill as an actress that we almost buy this.

Make no mistake, Father of Invention is the hilarious Spacey's show all the way.

Tom Arnold plays the fatherly head of a child-prostitution ring and John Malkovich a sympathetic social worker - two clever casting twists that constitute the main interest in the grueling Gardens of the Night.

The two youngsters are not polished performers, but that's actually part of the subtle charm.

Under Jordan Susman's inept direction, these twentysomething airheads, angry about the proliferation of Starbucks outlets and other societal ills, all resemble nubile models.

Someone describes his writing as "snarky, bitter, witless." The last part pretty well sums up this movie.

It's so incoherent that at first you wonder if the reels are being shown out of order.

A murky and morbid dirge of a gay romance.

The sometimes painfully sincere and slow-moving For Greater Glory clearly aspires to be inspirational, but history won't cooperate. The Cristeros triumphed not because of their faith, but because the United States exerted diplomatic pressure to protect its oil interests in Mexico.

A totally ridiculous and incoherent sci-fi adventure.

It's a reasonably funny religious satire that takes potshots at easy targets but is quite watchable due to the participation of two Oscar winners and two Oscar nominees.

Dazzles the eye, numbs the mind and may cause deafness in some cases. Did I mention to bring along some Excedrin?

The characters are so cartoonish, it's hard to care on any level -- except that it wastes such talented performers.

This excruciating adaptation of the innocuous '70s cartoon show makes the film version of "Josie and the Pussycats" look sophisticated by comparison.

Was Alma a masochist? Repressed? Neurotic? A pre-feminist? Don't look for insight here.

Her star billing notwithstanding, Jolie has perhaps the ninth-largest part in the movie (behind seven humans and a dog), playing Cage's ex-girlfriend.

About as edgy as a cup of Ovaltine, A Walk to Remember is an old-fashioned teen romance so sweet and free of irony that criticizing it feels like taking a baseball bat to a sack full of newborn kittens.

I’m a sucker for films with great surfing footage, let alone wacky ’70s hairstyles. But this overlong, cliché-infested Aussie period drama tested my patience.

A long, tedious and often unintentionally hilarious adaptation of Stephenie Meyer’s sci-fi follow-up.

There is fun to be had at Van Helsing, but it requires considerable suspension of disbelief at the apparently deliberately ridiculous plot necessary to bring the three monsters together.

Writer-director J.S. Cardone's low-budget mishmash offers precious little in the way of thrills and chills, much less coherent storytelling.

Some may find it titillating; more will find it offensive and deeply disturbing.

Multiple Sarcasms happens to be the title of the play within the movie, and it turns out to be by far the most interesting thing in the film. Not that many people will want to suffer through the first 90 minutes of this vanity production to get there.

Fortunately, Winters' legendary inventiveness as a comedian has not diminished with the years.

Aside from one tasteful nude scene, this well-meaning if bland romantic drama plays and looks a lot like a "special" episode of "Dawson's Creek."

Dreamcatcher is a lark probably best enjoyed by 12-year-olds -- or anyone still able to get in touch with their inner 12-year-old.

Time to pull the plug on this brain-dead franchise.

The kind of movie that is beyond criticism.

The script, attributed to Mark Schwahn, Marc Hyman and Jon Zack, is as confused as it is confusing, and the aimless direction by Brian Robbins doesn't help. It was apparently edited with a roulette wheel.

While Fienberg's direction is no great shakes, the film showcases its veteran cast.

Rip Torn's recent real-life misadven tures are slightly echoed in Happy Tears, a moderately diverting black comedy in which he plays (what else?) a crazy old coot, to perfection.

Hollywood's Thanksgiving turkey arrives today - 27 days early - in the gobbling guise of the heavily hyped, brain-dead comedy, I Spy.

The schmaltzy Diana is directed at a dirge-like pace by German director Oliver Hirschbiegel, whose film “Downfall’’ depicted the final days of Hitler and provided one of the Internet’s most enduring memes.

Un-magical, unfunny and un-romantic alleged comedy.

Lopez, appearing in her first rom-com since “Monster-in-Law” five years ago, is still a likable screen presence who throws herself into the movie’s slapstick sequences with unwarranted enthusiasm.

It's nicely photographed but slow-moving, dull and utterly predictable.

Looks great for a no-budget indie, but not a single moment rings true in this sluggish vanity project, which is sorely in need of Viagra.

The season's first genuine guilty pleasure.

Screenwriter Marc Lawrence, who worked on the original, throws in unbelievable plot twists merely as excuses for comic mayhem.

A hapless family film that's too scary for little kids and too boring for everyone else.

More "it stinks" than *NSYNC.

Just to give you a taste of the movie's sophisticated idea of wit, it also makes fun of gay men.

This mostly laugh-and scare-free turkey offers an utterly bored -- and boring -- Eddie Murphy taking a back seat to special effects, elaborate sets and a wispy story slapped together by David Berenbaum (the overrated "Elf").

If Carrie Bradshaw ever trades her Manolos for sneakers and starts blogging about raising children, I pray she wouldn't be as tiresome as the heroine of Katherine Dieckmann's insufferable comedy Motherhood.

A dispiriting rehash of dysfunctional family clichés that seems to last longer than Thanksgiving Day dinner.

Little more than 91 minutes of cheesy special effects in search of a remotely coherent story.

Basically a deadly dull rehash of "Resident Evil," which in turn was a third-generation clone of "Aliens."

Suspenselessly directed by Robby Henson, Thr3e commits the eighth deadly sin - boredom.

James Van Der Beek plays the same suspect over a 50-year period, sporting some of the worst old-age makeup in memory in the present-day sequences.

Dangerously low on laughs and sex, not to mention believability.

Isn't great, but it's an enjoyable if overly discreet and romanticized look at a long-vanished show-business world.

I was kind of rough on "Apocalypto," which in retrospect seems like a minor classic compared to 10,000 BC.

Less funny or romantic than your average colonoscopy, this cringe-inducing bore provides dubious employment for four Oscar winners, two nominees and a raft of TV performers.

May be the steamiest lesbian romp in recent memory.

Makes the most of its wintry settings and never insults the audience's intelligence -- no mean feat for a family film. It's a real crowd-pleaser.

Director Kevin Bray, whose clichéd style betrays his music-video roots, devotes far too much time to the mechanics of the illogical plot.

A campy, low-budget Romero homage that's badly in need of editing.

Annoying.

That Eulogy has any laughs is largely a testament to the understated Romano -- he and Deschanel are the only ones in the cast who aren't straining to be funny.

Deadly dull.

The geniuses behind the new film just don’t understand the difference between genuine subversiveness and pointless vulgarity.

Your heart will have you cheering Gordy on -- even as your brain complains that there are plot holes you could drive a truck bomb through.

Thanks to (Douglas), Diamonds is quite affecting -- even if it's not a particularly good movie.

The effects are cheesy, the photography is murky, the sets look like leftovers from a Las Vegas stage spectacular -- and the flick appears to have been edited with a roulette wheel.

Overlong, blandly soporific.

While Greenwood and Posey turn on enough charm to make this a fairly painless experience, Zack Bernbaum’s And Now a Word From Our Sponsor is a mild, toothless satire — a “Being There’’ where there’s barely any there there.

A couple of years ago, a disaster like Shadow boxer - with the hapless Cuba Gooding Jr. scraping below the bottom of the barrel - would have gone straight to video or been buried on an obscure cable channel at 3 a.m.

The Chaperone squanders nice locations and an expert comic performance by Yeardley Smith (the voice of Lisa Simpson) as the teacher trying to supervise the trip.

A pathetic stoner comedy.

By the time David gets someone to unleash the gas, I was wishing he could simply erase all memories of the sorry “Divergent’’ franchise.

Never rises much above yawn-worthy.

That someone as smart as Duchovny would get bogged down in such predictable treacle is a mystery worthy of investigation by Scully and Mulder.

Isn't as relentlessly vulgar or cartoonish as "The Ladies Man" - nor is it a whole lot more realistic.

Black loses control of Virginia as it lurches from political satire to unintended black comedy to mom-and-son melodrama. But the performances and the movie's sheer crazy audacity make it watchable.

A soul-deadening mash-up of "Kill Bill," "Showgirls" and dozens of other better flicks that's not the least bit exciting or sexy, Zack Snyder's Sucker Punch is what happens when a studio gives carte blanche to a filmmaker who has absolutely nothing original or even coherent to say.

The tin-earned dialogue and haphazard plotting are more reminiscent of Tarantino's frequent collaborator Robert Rodriguez.

This may be the most politically confusing movie about that conflict since "For Whom the Bell Tolls" -- I couldn't for the life of me figure out where Escriva stood.

It's the worst of both worlds as Disney cash cow Miley Cyrus makes the most dubious "dramatic" debut of any singer since Britney Spears.

The worst Hollywood musical so far this century, it’s another misstep for Sony Pictures, which also sponsored the abortive ‘‘The Interview.’’

Shoddily made, boring and, most shockingly, without a single decent scare.

In execution, this clever idea is far less funny than the original, "Killers From Space," which was directed by W. Lee Wilder, the vastly less talented brother of the great Billy.

The performances are solid, but as a screenwriter, Guttenberg can't make the situation seem like more than a theatrical construct in a contemporary setting.

A creepy, depressing and leering "comedy" that's a virtual collection of "What were they thinking?" moments.

Directors Potelle and Rankin lack the skill to integrate the sometimes drastic shifts between comedy and drama - and the serious portions ultimately get short shrift, apparently at the behest of Miramax's marketing executives.

So bad it's awful.

Strong contender for the weirdest movie released this year.

A mind-numbing piece of would-be provocation from the button-pushing Harmony Korine, Trash Humpers gets no stars from me -- not because it's offensive and disgusting like his earlier "Gummo" and "Julien Donkey-Boy," but because it's about as enervating a way to waste 78 minutes as I've ever experienced.

Basically, this is Smith and his real-life son, Jaden (both affecting ridiculous mid-Atlantic accents) talking the audience to death for something like 90 minutes before the closing credits.

The Caller qualifies as something of a Holocaust movie, with flashbacks to World War II France. Guess who the two boys we see grow up to be?

Yet another screwed-up mess that will give audiences another excuse to shun the multiplexes this weekend.

There are some decent actors and great costumes in this overly solemn compendium of rock clichés.

Ends up a nightmare of a star vehicle.

If ever a movie could be charged with imperiling the morals of a minor, it's probably Sleepover, a sleazy, PG-rated sex comedy that's apparently aimed at 8- to 10-year-old girls.

Shlocky, sloppy and crass adolescent comedy.

Coming down too hard on this load of schmaltz — as I said when reviewing my first Sparks adaptation back in 2002 — feels like taking a baseball bat to a sack full of newborn kittens.

Rent "Enchanted" with Adams, and watch Goode as Colin Firth's boyfriend in his other current movie, "A Single Man."

A toothless, dated Seventh Avenue satire with shaky script, direction and acting - is the movie equivalent of something you'd find on the deep-markdown rack at Daffy's.

A witless, stale and half-hearted rehash of cliches borrowed from the likes of "The Wedding Planner," "The Wedding Singer" and "Four Weddings and a Funeral," this pathetic, alleged comedy certainly wasn't improved by clueless direction by Clare Kilner.

Excruciatingly acted and ineptly directed by Bob Odenkirk, The Brothers Solomon is faux Farrelly brothers that should have gone straight to video.

The latest catastrophe from the Weinstein Co.

It's bone tired.

A campy erotic thriller that’s seriously short of, well, passion.

The first “Independence Day’’ was a lot of fun, with a great lines and cutting-edge special effects. It was much imitated, so the sequel plays like a faded, eighth-generation copy with a cast that’s shooting blanks when it comes to humor.

Painfully unfunny spoof.

Beyond-lame satire.

So unremittingly awful that labeling it a dog probably constitutes cruelty to canines.

An incomprehensible Bob Dylan vanity project that is not only nearly impossible to sit through, but embarrasses a long list of stars who lined up to work for scale opposite the legendary musician.

This cliché-filled labor of love is staffed with some fine performers - Jennifer Holliday sings at a juke joint and Frances Sternhagen plays an older version of Emily's sister.

Ryan, the bodacious Seven of Nine on "Star Trek Voyager," is the only excuse to suffer through writer-director Harry Ralston's feeble comedy.

Should have been stopped at customs -- as family entertainment, it constitutes child abuse.

Will Ferrell's terminally stupid, sloppy, campy and cheesy -- and thoroughly unexciting and unfunny -- experiment in "family entertainment."

A sluggish and prototypically earnest little indie on the not exactly fresh theme of a woman undergoing a midlife crisis.

Price of Glory isn't an embarrassment on the order of the last major boxing movie, "Play It to the Bone," but it's not especially worth intercepting on its way to the video racks.

Low-end schlock that will likely land with a dull thud in the video remainder bin before the frost is on the pumpkin.

Soggy, strictly by-the-numbers crime thriller.

Never decides whether it wants to be a black comedy, drama, melodrama or some combination of the three. The acting and direction are all over the map in this consistently depressing, if occasionally interesting, slice of life.

Repo Men is a rare film where Toronto plays itself. It's also the first I've ever seen where a typewriter is used as a lethal weapon.

The MPAA's rating explanation for this PG-13-rated snoozer misleadingly claims it contains "intense sequences of terror/violence"; it would be more accurate to state that Boogeyman contains "virtually every horror-movie cliché of the past 30 years."

If this movie were a teenager, you'd put it on Ritalin right away.

What starts as a fairly lighthearted satire ends in a tiresome, ultra-violent shootout -- and the film pretty much throws away the possibilities of Cruz's gender-bending role.

Laughless, pointless and downright creepy, Say Uncle is a would-be black comedy.

Mildly interesting.

A mild cross between "The Big Chill" and "Sex and the City," this English-language German oddity is a romantic comedy passing through on its way to video.

So bad it's almost (but not quite) good, Dan Ireland's Jolene is an unusually elaborate and excruciatingly long vanity production based on a short story by E.L. Doctorow ("Ragtime").

A great-looking but stupefyingly incoherent supernatural thriller adapted from a popular video game that ransacks the entire catalog of horror film tropes for more than two mind-numbing hours.

There’s no doubt at all that the schlocky The Lazarus Effect should have been euthanized and shipped directly to video rather than haunting movie theaters, however briefly.

A bland, dull and only occasionally funny waste of time that will very soon be gathering dust in the remainder bins.

Have you ever seen a movie without a single believable moment? Perfect Stranger, a convoluted and altogether risible thriller with Halle Berry and Bruce Willis, manages this difficult feat.

Your Highness refuses to take itself seriously, which is both boring and sort of charming to a limited extent.

A dull, dumb and derivative horror film.

Nearly totally laugh-, chemistry- and coherence-free, this fiasco from the director of "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle'' has a script whose sensible parts would fit on a napkin with enough room left over for the Gettysburg Address.

There isn't a remotely believable moment in the script here, and Kramer's leaden direction only helps strand a capable cast headed by Heather Graham in an hour and a half of virtual laugh-free tedium.

A glossy, shallow thriller where not a single scene rings true.

One bad movie -- in the original sense of the word.

Should appeal more to those who like to watch stuff blow up than understand exactly why the carnage is transpiring.

Fanning gives a sensitive and fairly impressive performance. But like her over-the-top movie family, Hounddog is still trailer trash of the worst kind.

Fonda is a hoot and a half.

You rarely see movies as dramatically uneven as The Weekend, which has a dreadful, one-star first half - followed by an interesting, three-star conclusion.

Directed without wit or energy.

Quickly devolves into a nonprescription alternative to Ambien.

An instant candidate for worst movie of the year.

So unremittingly vulgar and inept it makes "The Best Man" and "Runaway Bride" look like masterpieces by comparison.

Isn't particularly funny, romantic or well-acted. It drags on endlessly.

Repeatedly shoots for laughs -- but ends up mostly firing blanks.

Only Bryan Cranston, as Teller’s downsized dad, emerges with his dignity fully intact from Get a Job, whose scattershot direction is credited to Dylan Kidd (“Roger Dodger”).

So nasty, hysterical and long-winded -- and unintentionally makes capital punishment foes look so twisted -- you wish someone had administered a lethal injection to this dreck in its planning stages.

Basically a much schmaltzier fantasy version of “Love Story.’’

Tries to be a gay version of "Sex and the City," which was pretty gay to begin with.

You'd be better off renting "Eddie and the Cruisers" (1983) than slogging through this latest, far more dire recycling of the same rock clichés.

A cheesy, often unintentionally funny, direct-to-video-caliber knockoff of "Aliens" that couldn't be more shallow.

If the once red-hot Vin Diesel's overhyped career wasn't finished off by last summer's mega flop "The Chronicles of Riddick," the alleged family comedy The Pacifier ought to do the trick.

Hearing snoring from behind me at a screening the other day, I looked around and noticed four people had dozed off during the prettily photographed, boring vanity project that is Oh My God?

Unintended laughs far, far outnumber intended thrills.

Featuring eyeball-rolling performances by Vivica A. Fox, Patti LaBelle, Clifton Davis and the singularly named Leon, Cover would be a candidate for the year's most unintentionally funny movie so far - if it weren't also the most homophobic.

A 21st-century equivalent of the early James Bond flicks.

Aaliyah rules as the undead Queen of the Damned, even if she has scarcely half an hour of screen time in this campy Anne Rice vampire tale.

Those endless end credits reveal that McKittrick previously worked at Steak & Ale, Roadhouse Grill and Friday's. He may well need to return to his line of work after a debut as dismal as this one.

Poor Keaton, a capable actor who was absent from the screen for several years, is hamstrung by the material even more than in last year's dismal "First Daughter."

The acting is serviceable at best, the direction unfocused - and the special effects and makeup cheesy-looking. This is surely the most dreary-looking film ever shot by the great Vittorio Storaro ("Apocalypse Now").

The Coen brothers might have done something inspired with this, but director Kanievska... turns out a more modestly entertaining little low-budget movie.

With thinly drawn characters, uneven performances and tin-eared dialogue, Stonewall plays at best like a musical without the songs.

Director Uwe Boll and the actors provide scant reason to care in this crude '70s throwback.

If you stay awake, you'll certainly feel more than a little ground down after watching perhaps 15 minutes of skateboard footage padded out with nearly 90 minutes of strenuously unfunny toilet humor - all cheaply filmed on a budget that looks as if it would scarcely cover the catering bill for "Gigli."

So consistently silly and overwrought that it flirts with the elusive so-bad-it's-entertaining category.

Ineptly directed by Raja Gosnell -- the genius behind the "Scooby-Doo" features, "Big Momma's House," and "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" -- this cheesy-looking flick has lousy animation, worse special effects and the most headache-inducing, blurry 3-D since "Clash of the Titans."

A mildly funny, stereotype-stuffed comedy.

Seriously flawed - and choppily edited in the worst Harvey Scissorhands style - but there are enough good moments to anticipate a second film from writer-director Katrina Holden Bronson, whose parents were Charles Bronson and Jill Ireland.

Endlessly lame.

The material in this spy spoof is, pardon the pun, awfully frayed.

Probably would have yielded a more interesting documentary than this sugary feature.

Even by the modest standards of the genre, the ending is jaw-droppingly ridiculous.

Zookeeper barely avoids a zero-star rating because of James.

A messy -- but uproarious, timely and provocative -- farce.

The only truly lethal weapons in the criminally unfunny action comedy Let’s Be Cops are the lame script, putrid direction and pair of sitcom stars mugging nonstop in frantic pursuit of laughs that have fled over the state line.

An impressive supporting cast can't save this painfully unfunny, ham-fisted mockumentary poking fun at reality TV shows.

A soggy cannoli of a domestic dramedy.

Excruciatingly maudlin.

When you awake, it may all seem like a bad dream - but why is your wallet missing $11? Scary.

Epic waste of celluloid.

A refreshingly unpretentious little thriller.

I haven't laughed harder at anything this year, but I would have a hard time recommending this gender-bending gut-buster to anyone who doesn't have a high threshold for crude sexual humor and stereotypes.

Rates an "E" for effort -- and a "B" for boring.

Excruciatingly unfunny.

Watchable even when what's going on makes no sense whatsoever.

A root canal seems a more pleasurable way to pass two hours than this interminable vanity knockoff of "Traffic" about troubled Angelenos.

It’s often hard to figure out who’s winning, much less care about it. One thing is certain: Nobody is going to be demanding a rematch.

Calling Boys and Girls the year's worst movie makes it sound more entertaining than it actually is.

This mess was directed with no skill whatsoever by Jesse Dylan, whose father, Bob, once urged us all to get stoned.

A repugnant little indie black comedy, poorly acted in hideous-looking digital video, guaranteed to send audiences fleeing for the nearest shower.

Desperately unfunny.

Excruciatingly lame and laughless romantic comedy.

The pretentious and unrelievedly glum first feature from music-video and advertising director Nenad Cicin-Sain, The Time Being looks sharp, but it’s about as dramatically satisfying as watching paint dry.

A slapdash, sporadically funny cross between the infamous “Ishtar’’ and the mercifully forgotten “American Dreamz.’’

Even with appearances by such dependable performers as Toni Collette, Stellan Skarsgård, Christopher Plummer and Jean Reno, the interminable Hector and the Search for Happiness will most likely inspire audiences to search for the exit door.

An appallingly unfunny and unromantic romantic comedy.

As for Gooding, he's sadly gone to the dogs -- Snow Dogs has got to be his most humiliating role since "Lightning Jack."

Pulse bears more than a slight resemblance to a 1994 American horror called "Ghost in the Machine." They didn't screen that stinker in advance for critics, either.

This is less a documentary than a wholly uncritical celebration.

No "Schindler's List," to put it mildly.

You Again could be taught at film schools as an example of how not to make a movie. And how not to humiliate veteran actors.

Androgynous Clea DuVall's performance shines through a foggily told, vaguely acted coming-of-age tale.

Penn makes us take the leap required by Kristine Johnson and Jessie Nelson's screenplay -- you end up deeply caring about Sam and Lucy.

Extremely cool-looking in the manner of "Sin City,'' but clumsily staged, slackly acted and mind-numbingly dull, Israeli director Guy Moshe's English-language fantasy is set in a future when guns, and apparently coherent conversations, have been outlawed.

Actually, Bruce, what stinks is the script — which is woefully lacking the kind of one-liners and memorable bad guys that helped make working-class hero McClane so iconic he’s still around after 25 years. Even the action sequences are pretty much by the numbers this time.

Even an appearance by Alec Baldwin as Moretz's eventual - if highly unlikely - savior isn't enough to keep Hick from leaving a bad taste.

Love and Honor may be politically clueless, but Hemsworth and the student journalist he hooks up with (fellow Aussie Teresa Palmer of “Warm Bodies’’) do make an undeniably attractive couple.

The latter is played by Parker Posey, who looks baffled throughout. As well she should.

If I Were You has more than its share of laughs, but director Joan Carr-Wiggin needed to cut half an hour to make this fly without interest flagging. She had the exact same problem with her last movie, “A Previous Engagement.’’

Racist, stupid and boasting cheesy effects.

A shallow, stilted romantic thriller.

Sitcomish, stereotypical and sporadically funny romantic comedy.

May be predictable and silly, but it's never dull.

A labored romantic farce whose only asset is Carlos Leon, best known as the father of Madonna's daughter Lourdes.

“I’d rather gouge my eyes out with hot spoons!’’ De Niro exclaims at one point. I’m not sure exactly what he was talking about, but I’d like to think it referred to the prospect of being forced to watch The Big Wedding.

An ugly, unfunny, headache-inducing fairy-tale spoof.

Slow-moving, yawn-inducing remake.

So feeble it fails even as train-wreck exploitation. I’d be unkind, but not entirely inaccurate, to label Coppola’s sophomoric, er, sophomore effort as a director an offer you can refuse.

This is the sort of comedy that requires you not only to suspend disbelief, but your sanity as well.

Fitfully amusing.

The "Prinze" of terrible movies is back - in what might charitably be called "Rear Window" for morons.

Crudely animated, badly dubbed, incomprehensible, boring -- and headache-inducing -- attempt to wring a few more yen and dollars out of a thoroughly spent franchise.

Strands a good cast in a sea of stereotypes and clichés.

Most of this movie is beyond lame. It almost makes "A Cinderella Story" -- the ever-mugging Duff's surprise hit of last summer -- look like a real movie by comparison.

The sort of movie that seems to exist for no good reason except to keep the studio's pipeline filled with filmed product.

Actually more entertaining than its 1994 predecessor.

Garfield is a downright cat-astrophe.

A vulgar, grating alleged "family" comedy.

A movie so pathetically lame that hopefully even Spears most ardent young fans will give this stinker a big thumbs down.

Might have been more successful if Darabont and his pal had attempted a Preston Sturges-like farce. Instead, it's played totally without any kind of edge - a fantasy that makes "The Lord of the Rings" look realistic by comparison.

You could do far worse in the current marketplace.

Catwoman is pretty well summed up by Hedare: “This is a disaster. It’s a total bloody disaster.”

Watchable in a train-wreck kind of way, but you'll probably want to take a shower afterwards.

A schmaltz-laden soap opera from Saskatchewan.

A total disaster.

Ineptly directed by Simon West, the scare-free When a Stranger Calls is the worst of the seminal horror movies from the late '70s and early '80s that have been getting the remake treatment lately.

Being John Malkovich, which contains not a frame of extraneous footage, is more than a must-see movie: It's a must-see-more-than-once event.

While there are some scattered laughs, the flimsy and nonsensical script - combined with the sledgehammer direction by Brian Robbins, make the similarly themed "Big Momma's House" look like Noel Coward.

Co-star Christina Applegate, who's much more at home in this down and dirty milieu, wipes the floor (in one scene, literally, in a ludicrous cat fight) with the erstwhile Oscar winner.

A brightly colored but terminally dull cartoon.

A game and often quite funny attempt with an expert cast.

A baffling mixed platter of gritty realism and magic realism with a hard-to-swallow premise.

A lousy script, unfocused direction, incoherent editing, shockingly terrible special effects — and, probably, panicked studio executives — have left its four talented stars muddling through a dull superhero origin story with zero payoff.

The acting is, at best, serviceable; the sound track is too often unintelligible; the direction is often over the top; and the script relies heavily on stereotypes.

So utterly devoid of suspense, energy or credibility it should have been shipped straight to the remainder bin at Blockbuster.

Sexual and toilet humor plumb new depths in Keenen Ivory Wayans' Little Man, which will stink up theaters like several gross of dirty diapers.

Thirty years after "Annie Hall," the beloved actress is scraping below the bottom of the barrel with this desperately unfunny farce, in which she mugs and pratfalls in the worst performance of her entire career.

The film plays out pretty much exactly as you would expect - which won't bother some people one iota.

This is the sort of low-grade dreck that usually goes straight to video -- with a lousy script, inept direction, pathetic acting, poorly dubbed dialogue and murky cinematography, complete with visible boom mikes.

Amy Sedaris, channeling her inner Frances McDormand as a hyper admissions coach, gets most of the laughs.

A collection of product plugs masquerading as a movie en route to home video.

A witless and vulgar romantic comedy wrapped inside a mock documentary.

Thoroughly inept in just about every aspect.

It's loaded with -- scenery-chewing melodrama, cornball pidgin dialogue and syrupy music.

Hokey, inept tear-jerker.

Sandler's latest ode to projectile vomiting, passing gas, gay jokes and physical insults to the groin is basically a feeble cross between "The Revenge of the Nerds" and "The Bad News Bears."

Repackage clichés and stereotypes with attractive young performers in a simple-minded script that panders to the teen audience.

Tasteless but sporadically uproarious black comedy.

James Franco, all is forgiven. His woebegotten “Oz: The Great and Powerful’’ is practically a masterpiece compared to this eyeball-gougingly ugly, charm-free animated musical sequel.

De Niro mostly looks miserable and very tired (a document glimpsed on-screen hilariously claims his character was born in 1970) and prattles on endlessly about forgetting the past.

Even by the extremely low standards of the genre, When in Rome gets failing marks for chemistry, credibility and even coherence.

"I am surrounded by oceans of boredom," the campy Abraham complains at one point. It's a sentiment audiences are bound to share.

Gandolfini, who skillfully fleshes out what's written as a one-joke character, comes close to pilfering The Mexican from the stars. Under the circumstances, that's not a huge accomplishment.

The often difficult-to-follow plot is sort of "Traffic" for nitwits.

A jaw-droppingly terrible animated musical that mismatches George Lucas’ inane story about a pair of fairy princesses to an oddball selection of the “Star Wars’’ creator’s favorite pop tunes.

Vanity productions don't come much worse than One Third, an amateurish, dialogue-free curiosity courtesy of Yongman Kim, the founder of the Greenwich Village institution Kim's Video.

Ultra-glossy weepie turns out to be something of a guilty pleasure.

Some handsome location shooting in New Orleans doesn’t make up for the Oscar winners’ relentless hamming and a plot that twists way beyond credibility.

Interesting but never compelling.

Brain-dead film.

Cisneros is an appealing actor, but he and Falling Awake get buried under a welter of clichés.

Should you get Carter? Sure - but make it the Michael Caine classic Warner Bros. is releasing on video next week.

Sporadically funny, dumbed-down version.

Exceedingly lame.

A relentlessly dull film that's shot on eyeball-gougingly ugly digital video.

Do your kids a favor - and take them to see something more worthwhile than the relentlessly vulgar and stupid See Spot Run.

There's no excuse for a thriller as lame, leaden and unthrilling as Godsend, which manages to take a potentially interesting subject - human cloning - and use it to put audiences to sleep.

Boasts special effects that are really spectacular - too bad it lacks flesh-and-blood characters.

It really couldn't have been easy for Jason Lee ("Almost Famous") to keep a straight face while saying, "I'm not in this for the money.''

William H. Macy lends a little class as a snail, but Smith nails it in the closing-credit outtakes: "Don't expect Robin Williams-caliber work."

Excruciatingly unfunny.