Lou Lumenick

A tediously self-absorbed variation on "The Big Chill" and "The Return of the Secaucus 7."

It's pretty sad if you're a comic and Al Pacino is the funniest thing in your movie.

A schmaltzy, smutty and mean-spirited quasi-satire.

Not especially scary or funny, this lame comedy-thriller wastes a decent cast in a plodding tale.

Pierre is at best competent as the star, director and writer of this good-natured compendium of ghetto movie clichés, which doesn't have an awful lot to offer in the way of laughs, pacing or originality.

Has its moments of interest, including two excruciating vocals by Arquette and Caan -- and a George Clinton score that contains a theme eerily similar to that of "American Beauty."

A good cast equipped with cute names is forced to muddle through terminal whimsy in this less-than-magical adaptation of Aimee Bender's adult fairy tale, sluggishly directed by Marilyn Agrelo, who more successfully helmed the delightful documentary "Mad Hot Ballroom."

Desperately unfunny and unexciting.

Arguably as effective as Ambien at inducing sleep, but possible side effects include uncontrollable laughter.

Rarely does a movie go so thoroughly wrong in so many ways.

A painfully earnest and totally unfunny magic-realist fable set on the Lower East Side that works in no way whatsoever.

An exceedingly dull and stillborn attempt to update the Brothers Grimm.

It's sad to see Quaid in sloppily directed (by Martin Guigui) dreck like Beneath the Darkness less than a decade after the performance of his career as a closeted married man in "Far From Heaven.''

Suffers from terminal hoof-in-mouth disease.

Elaborate vanity production.

Painfully stupid.

Relentlessly dopey and vulgar.

Mind-blowing and headache-inducing. But the kids loved it.

A cheerfully dopey snobs vs. slobs teen comedy.

Excruciatingly bad.

A loud, coarse and witless family comedy.

A real crock.

A slow-moving, dirt-dull narrative crammed with clunky expository dialogue and obscure Biblical references.

Shallow and blatantly manipulative variation on "Awakenings" in which every plot development is telegraphed.

Odd and not entirely uninteresting little docudrama.

Virtually unwatchable and laugh-free.

Antonio Banderas is unintentionally hilarious as Father Matt Gutierrez, a sort of Jesuit James Bond.

This is a cheap-looking lowbrow comedy that likely would have gone straight to home video.

With awkward acting, plotting and direction, this is no "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," "Jungle Fever" or "One Potato, Two Potato."

Wavers between extreme silliness and unbearable earnestness.

No, Bratz, an unwitting and witless critique of American consumerism run amok, does not star Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie.

Like many first films, Boricua's Bond is wildly uneven.

Even if it weren't three years too late to parody Moore (ineptly played by Kevin Farley), Moore's ridiculous tribute to Cuban health care in "Sicko" is far funnier than anything in this desperately laughless farce from David Zucker ("Scary Movie 3").

Tedious and tawdry.

A witless and vulgar sequel.

If M. Night Shyamalan sold his soul to the devil for the success of "The Sixth Sense," I think His Satanic Majesty has finally collected in full with The Last Airbender.

An assembly-line high-school comedy that flunks miserably in all three subjects.

Little more than a series of sketches, tied together by Joe's on-air interrogation by a nasty shock jock played by Dennis Miller.

The lamest in the recent run of comedies about uptight white people getting jiggy with it, would also be the most offensive -- if it weren't also the dullest.

After the monster is subdued, then there's a much less humorous, and more mindlessly violent second half.

It's not surprising to learn that the story -- which the press notes assert is loosely based on fact -- has been kicking around Hollywood for 15 years. It's that bad.

Skin-crawlingly awful.

The only hint of professionalism comes from Cheech Marin as Cannon's boss, who at times seems to be acting in a different movie.

Produced with the best of intentions by a California church and directed without distinction by first-timer Brian Baugh, To Save a Life would be bland and boring even as a half-hour after-school special.

Amply demonstrates how even a movie with wall-to-wall action can be a crashing bore.

It's so devoid of joy and energy it makes even "Jason X" - a recent attempt to prolong the rival "Friday the 13th" slasher franchise - look positively Shakesperean by comparison.

A crass, shrill and laughless disaster of a holiday comedy with a desperately mugging Ben Affleck that should be banned under the Geneva Convention.

A painfully sincere indie drama that isn't content to evoke only the misery of 9/11 -- it has to reference TWA Flight 800 for extra grief.

The dreary, direct-to-video quality of the script, acting and cinematography in this latest entry seemed to inspire more yawns than screams, and not a few titters.

A cut-rate ripoff of "Aeon Flux" with Milla Jovovich as a butt-kicking futuristic heroine in a midriff-baring bodysuit, is ultrastupid, ultra-incoherent, ultrasilly - and way, way ultraboring.

A skin-crawlingly unfunny riff on Woody Allen's "Bananas."

Boring and desperately unfunny.

Even dumber than Perry's "Three to Tango," this latest sitcommy exercise is sporadically funny in spite of itself -- and not quite as dreadful as you would suspect.

A pathetically unfunny comedy that should have been shipped straight to video, if not recycled as guitar picks.

If you mashed-up the worst parts of the infamous "Howard the Duck,'' "Gigli,'' "Ishtar'' and every other awful movie I've seen since I started reviewing professionally in 1981, it wouldn't begin to approach the sheer soul-sucking badness of the cringe-inducing Movie 43.

Misconceived, bloated and incredibly ugly fantasy epic.

Features less than 10 minutes of music in its mercifully brief 83-minute running time.

Stick a fork in Nia Vardalos. I've been to funerals that were a lot more fun than I Hate Valentine's Day, her second alleged romantic comedy in less than a month.

There is plenty of blame to go around for this laughless mess.

Stars Carmine Famiglietti, Joseph Summa and Gino Cafarelli apparently also wrote Chooch and directed it under a trio of aliases. They shoulda applied to the witness-protection program instead.

A good cast can't save The Lodger, the utterly wrongheaded fourth movie version of a 1910 novel inspired by Jack the Ripper.

Putting it as kindly as possible, this pitiful romantic comedy directed by Scott Marshall (dad Garry did "Pretty Woman'') peaks with its animated opening credits.

Sony dumped this sleazy, inept and worthless piece of torture porn into theaters yesterday.

Dennis Rodman isn't half bad as a blond, multiply pierced Interpol agent.

You cease to care as they fall back on a catalogue of clichéd shocks, tired camera angles and an ever-mounting gore quotient.

A low-rent, slow-witted horror flick notable chiefly for its hilariously unsuccessful attempt to pass off Luxembourg City as New York City.

Sort of "West Side Story" set in 1958 Brooklyn -- minus the music or competent storytelling -- is clearly not dealing from anything close to a full deck.

The only pro involved in this amateurish labor of love is veteran character actor Arthur Nascarella, cast as Jack's florist father.

A dumb, by-the-numbers children's movie.

Brain-dead variant of "Risky Business."

Based on a video game, far exceeds expectations -- in negative ways that inspire thoughts of less than zero stars.

The latest vanity production by writer-director-star Eric Schaeffer, who still seems to think he's another Woody Allen -- despite a growing body of work that proves otherwise.

With the abysmal A Little Bit of Heaven, Kate Hudson's possibly unprecedented losing streak remains unbroken: She hasn't made a good movie since Almost Famous, 12 long years ago. Even Nicolas Cage can't say that.

Tacky-looking, incoherent, badly acted and hopelessly directed disaster is easily the dullest adventure film of 2000.

Arguably the most insipid movie released so far this century.

Except for Brolin as an unlikely born-again Jew, nobody fares well under Mulroney's ham-fisted direction.

So awful it qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.

Stinko movies often unwittingly critique themselves -- and the brain-dead romantic comedy Down to You (which Miramax understandably didn't screen in advance for critics) is no exception.

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

None of this is remotely funny.

A genuine oddity that's more watchable than it sounds.

Goes from being tediously terrible to downright gigglesome.

Spectacularly awful.

A low-end scam by Lions Gate Films -- whose recent "The Wash" was a masterpiece by comparison.

Certainly the most painfully unfunny of the countless bad movies that have licensed the name of the long-defunct humor magazine.

It's a totally inept and unfunny parody of the TV show "Cops."

To say that Vulgar is not for all tastes might be the understatement of the year. For starters, this black comedy has a male rape scene that makes the one in "Deliverance" seem mild by comparison.

An inept, brutally unfunny collection of sketches.

A cheesily amusing prequel to the 1993 film which starred Al Pacino as a Puerto Rican drug kingpin in Spanish Harlem, in one of his most entertaining performances. This time around, Jay Hernandez delivers a serviceable impression of a much younger version of Pacino.

Writer-director Patrick Hasson whips up a surprising amount of fun.

The latest, and let's hope the last, in the raft of uninspired, quickie Bush-bashing documentaries churned out by producer Robert Greenwald