Nathan Lee

Harold is the type of one-note dead zone ideally suited for a bathroom break while sitting home on a Saturday night, alone and semidrunk, in front of the television. At feature length it's enough to make you tear your hair out.

Does little more than congratulate its audience on recognizing the source of its riffs. "High School Musical" -- ha ha ha!

Infantile, irreverent and boorish to the max, Postal explodes with bad attitude and lousy filmmaking.

Skips back and forth in time, trying to piece together who did what, when and why. The only question really worth asking here: Who cares?

Subjective or not, the movie is a bore and an eyesore.

One of the most undermotivated plots in many a moon, the zero-wit, zero-gravity misadventures of Nat, I.Q. and Scooter are embarked on merely because they're bored on their garbage dump.

Looks like a comedy, acts like a comedy and sounds like a comedy, but it isn't funny. This is a problem in a movie that aims for laughs.

The American version of Kiyoshi Kurosawa's "Pulse" mimics the plot fundamentals, but lacks any traces of Mr. Kurosawa’s creepy minimalism and conceptual rigor.

This sort of thing was indulgent enough the first time around; transplanted to the mumblecore milieu, it's intolerable.

An unrelentingly tedious documentary.

The third installment lacks the novelty of the first, the panache of the second and the twisted sense of humor that gives the series its participatory sense of fun.

From a producer of "Crash" comes Haven, an even phonier exercise in manufactured conflict, facile irony and preposterous contrivance.

Moves from clever mock documentary to groan-inducing conceptualism. Mr. Fox may well have put his finger on certain shared impulses between these repellent bacchanalia, but his manner of drawing them out is heavy-handed.

There are, as you may have guessed, 12 rounds of this arbitrary nonsense. Annoying as the conceit may be, it neatly functions as a means to gauge how much is left to endure.