Pete Vonder Haar

Doesn't do much besides giving original "Ringu" and "Ringu 2" director Hideo Nakata the chance to strut his stuff in front of a wide-release audience.

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.

Won't make anybody’s "best of" lists a year from now, but it's nowhere near as offensive as some other examples of this moldy genre.

Seriously, that kid is creepy as hell.

What, a white woman can’t take an innocent drive through the ghetto without arousing suspicion? What’s this world coming to?

Is love a disease, as Marquez possibly wanted us to believe? Maybe, but in the case of this adaptation, it’s more of a laughing sickness.

It's serviceable.

Desperate Acts of Magic is a pleasant little film.

This is a superior horror film. It hits hard and fast, letting up only to inject some black humor and amp up the tension again before coming back for more. Feast is nasty, brutish, and short, just like Hobbes said all horror flicks should be.

If you didn't like "Charlie’s Angels," there’s a good chance you'll enjoy the smarter, sexier D.E.B.S.

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

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

Fred Claus is belligerently unfunny.

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.

It's noisy, nonsensical, and will fade from your consciousness even before you make it out of the theater lobby, but it's entertaining enough, and Tamahori throws us a few curve balls to keep things interesting.

While I could probably spend an entire weekend watching Milla twirl her kukris, it's obvious from the rather lazy pacing that Anderson is growing increasingly self-indulgent with his creation.

There was a movie called “My Bodyguard” about the new kid in high school who hires the sullen loner to protect him from a bully. That was good. Drillbit Taylor is shit but, hey, I’m in Judd Apatow’s Hollywood.

It ain't art, and it's dumber than I'd like, but I don't imagine you were expecting Kieslowski.

Works best when it sticks to some of the tenets of successful horror; namely, gore and surprise.

What you won’t be able to ignore is the ridiculous way Vantage Point’s brings everything to an end.

Intermittently refreshing yet thoroughly unpleasant.

The release of Fantastic Four marks the beginning of the end for movies based on Marvel Comics' upper tier of characters.

One of the drawbacks to rushing your sequel to theaters is that there's not a lot of time to hone dialogue and performances.

Director Adam Randall keeps the action tightly paced and the dialogue to a refreshing minimum, helping to heighten Matt's growing isolation.

Eragon is laughably bad, mind-bogglingly derivative, and easily one of the worst movies of the year.

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

Easily one of the most lackadaisical movies I've seen. Don't get me wrong, the plot is entertaining enough, and there are some genuine laughs, but almost everyone in the movie is half-a--ing it.

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