Pete Vonder Haar

Yoga Hosers is lazy, unfunny, and self-indulgent.

70 odd minutes of medical tragedy and cops matching wits with criminals devolves into incongruously balletic gunplay accentuated with CGI blood effects so terrible Sam Peckinpah is doing cocaine in his grave. It’s a weirdly calamitous tonal shift, erasing the scant goodwill we’d felt to this point and putting Three down for the count once and for all.

Vaxxed is, in the words of Sheriff Bart, the last act of a desperate man. It’s Andrew Wakefield’s Hail Mary, thrown — I hope — as his time in the public arena finally runs out.

Convergence ends up squandering too much of its setup time and rushing to a largely unsatisfying conclusion instead of actually coming together in a meaningful way.

L.A. Slasher isn't perceptive, shocking, or funny, and if it's remembered for anything, it will be for the tastelessly tone-deaf decision to have the Slasher kill a black actress by dragging her behind a van.

Bound to Vengeance strains credibility (seriously, she never calls the cops?) and swerves dangerously close to exploitation often enough that its semi-clever premise can't keep it on course.

Ferrara, best known as "Turtle" on HBO's Entourage, plays what is essentially a muted version of that character. Abeckaser is more believable, which is unsurprising, since the movie is loosely based on his own experiences.

Lowell hews so close to the reunion-film formula he ends up stifling anything new that may otherwise have resulted.

The most interesting aspects of the film — the real pressures felt by caregivers; popular perception of the severely disabled — are obliterated by the heavy-handed script and Swank’s inspirational bromides.

Wolf Creek 2 merely offers more of the same casual brutality. The only shocking (and depressing) part is how inured to it moviegoers have become.

Locker 13 brings the hurt, and not in a good way.

Hey, Crave, the jerk store called, and they're running out of you.

The endless hidden connections and coincidences eventually become ridiculous.

Vlahakis's tale should be compelling, but a weak script and mostly dull performances (one exception: Billy Zane . . . I know!) make A Green Story more monotonous than mythic.

The depressingly predictable script—and tendency of everyone involved to jump to ridiculous conclusions—suggests a combination of Noises Off at best, and at worst, Three's Company.

Scary Movie V murdered my capacity to feel joy.

What starts out as a moderately interesting thriller in the vein of Blue Velvet and Angel Heart ends up less than the sum of its portentous parts.

Fails to satisfy.

If Cars is indicative of the kind of movie we can expect from Pixar post-Disney merger, well, there's always Miyazaki.

First-time director James Gartner has managed to whittle away whatever was compelling about the 1966 Miners championship run.

So remarkably free of laughs I might as well have been watching John Wayne Gacy’s home movies.

Every rumor you’ve heard about this film is true; it’s an absolute wreck.

Two things come to mind as you watch the first act of Street Kings, the first is how fresh and exciting the movie would’ve been if it was released in 1984, the second is the question, “James Ellroy wrote that?”

Sellers' comic mastery is completely fumbled by Martin and director Shawn Levy.

Fred Claus is belligerently unfunny.

Absent the actual music, Notorious would be a lot worse.

Edward and Carter are like the original Odd Couple, except nobody’s laughing.

The rape scene is, admittedly, as brutal as any I've seen in recent memory, but much of what Iliadis shows us is a direct riff on the original.