Peter Travers

Murphy, teaming again with his "Norbit" director Brian Robbins, is assuming we'll all line up for lazyass toilet jokes and pay for the privilege. Prove him wrong, people, please.

Diesel has chosen to keep selling stupid to audiences who are inexplicably eager to gobble it up. Damn shame.

Can no one save the talented Sandler from himself? I hate this movie. Click. I hate this movie. Click. I hate this movie. Click.

I'd watch the vibrant Rachel McAdams and Eric Bana in anything, but The Time Traveler's Wife is pushing it.

A low point in the career of the legendary James L. Brooks, starring gifted actors who seem, all of a sudden in a fit of group amnesia, to have forgotten how to act.

It's too bad Martin already made “What's the Worst That Could Happen?” The title really fits this one.

It's Carell who projects the movie's only sense of mischief. But it's too little and too late.

This feeble followup to 2010's godawful "Clash of the Titans" sucketh the mighty big one.

Millie Bobby Brown fights a heroic battle as a princess bride up against a digital dragon, but it’s not the damsel but the audience that will suffer distress from the nonstop, numbing repetition that turns this Netflix movie dull and dreary way too fast.

Take a tired formula...Stir with a director, Florent Siri, who has no shame about stealing every sadistic suspense trick from the Die Hard series. Serve to a gullible audience willing to pay top dollar for secondhand goods.

This unholy mess shouldn't happen to a King, much less a paying customer.

It's difficult to imagine a summer film programmed more cynically than this repugnant sequel. RoboCop 2 is all machine, and it's all vile.

Stupefyingly stupid thriller.

This medieval borefest drags down the talents of Sophie Turner and Kit Harington, but can be commended for one thing: truth in advertising. It’s dreadful to the max.

What a bold notion for a movie, and what a bust in terms of execution.

Forget fever – this floral-scented fiasco is so lifeless you can barely feel a pulse.

A few primo bits sneak through.... But mostly we’re watching the bawdy life being drained out of a once subversive franchise. Action Point is the first Jackass-related movie to play it safe. Now that is truly painful.

Could 1960s-style sex, drugs and rock & roll really have been this dull?

The new Mummy is, how can I put it? Just freakin' awful.

An appallingly clumsy and stupid take on drugs, kidnapping and suicide in suburbia.

The F&F franchise ran out of gas half way into the 2001 original.

Bad things can happen to talented people. Take Tom McCarthy, who wrote and directed "The Station Agent," "The Visitor" and "Win Win." All gems. His fourth film, The Cobbler, is a failure on every level.

It's getting harder to sustain a rooting interest in the career of Johnny Knoxville.

Talk about disappointing. Director Doug Liman exuded style and cool in "Swingers," "Go" and "The Bourne Identity." He lost his way in the star bloat of "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," and now his mojo is buried in this amped-up sci-fi chase flick.

Purists, be warned: This scare-flick quickie has as much relation to the 1953 Vincent Price classic with the same title as Paris Hilton does to acting.

It's a no-go. View From the Top boasts a first-class cast, but they're all traveling coach.

I like Longoria Parker on "Desperate Housewives" and truly believe she could have a career on the big screen if she promises to never again work with writer-director Jeff Lowell, who perpetrated this offense of a ghost comedy on her and on her otherwise gifted co-stars Paul Rudd and Lake Bell.

What the filmmakers fail to recognize is that history on the page is quite different from what it needs to be onscreen, namely alive and visceral.

The last of the summer's movie epics is a digitalized eyesore hobbled in every department by staggering incompetence.

Whitney Houston deserved better than to go out onscreen with this botch job remake of a 1976 soap opera that never deserved another thought.

What Murphy's doing isn't acting; it's masturbation.

What's left is a lot of strenuous playacting when what's called for is the finesse of the Japanese original. Skip this stub-toed substitute.

Breathlessly boring.

The brooding RPatz doesn’t bite. But his movie does.

A cheerless and unappetizing plate of piffle that deserves to be smashed against a wall or at least sent back to the kitchen.

I don't know what to make of Act of Valor. It's like reviewing a recruiting poster.

The shopworn script by Pablo F. Fenjves, who ghost-wrote the unpublished O.J. Simpson book, If I Did It: The Confessions of the Killer, gets no help from director Asger Leth (Ghosts of Cite Soleil).

Is it the worst of the seven screen Sparks so far? Nope. My vote still goes to 2009's "The Last Song" with Miley Cyrus mothering those unhatched turtle eggs. But it's still pretty damn insufferable.

Preposterous can be defined in many, many ways. But for now, let's use the plot details of The Accountant as Exhibit A.

Writer-director Roman Coppola is trying to capture a time he's too young to remember, when the French New Wave reinvigorated film art.

Overheated, underdone farce. Race for the exit.

Say the word, girl (Lopez), the next time you're offered one of these barrel scrapers: Enough!

This out-and-out disaster dissolves in a puddle of botched intentions that will leave children sad and confused and adults scratching their heads.

Where's Sandler in all this? Lost in gimmicks that smack of desperation. Damn it.

It's not the trite talk that sends Cruel Intentions into a tailspin, it's the lightweight casting.

It feels manufactured to be suitable for mass consumption.

An indigestible chunk of romantic marshmallow.

Arriving just in time to win a place among the year’s worst films, Robin Hood — bursting with an entitled sense of its own non-existent coolness — falls flat on its fat one.

They say it’s all in the timing, especially when it comes to funny business. But in The Hustle everyone’s inner comedic clock is calamitously off. The setups are flat, the jokes don’t land and the actors don’t — or won’t — connect.

Doesn't deliver an ounce of charm.

There should be a place in hell for hacks who turn out derivative terror trash and then pretend they're doing an important investigative piece on Vatican corruption.

Forget the rumor that Taylor Swift wrote the books this sad excuse for a romcom is based on. Bryce Dallas Howard is wasted as a cat lady who writes thrillers—Henry Cavill and Sam Rockwell play spies—but this whole dull, plodding, cartoonish mess lands with a thud.

It’s slog, slog, slog, all the way.

The Hughes boys blow it by burying a fine cast -- Robbie Coltrane as a cop and Ian Holm as a royal sawbones are standouts -- in stock scares, sappy romance and cliches that really are from hell.

Launches the fall season with a crashing thud.

Promises a road movie of blissful comic romance and delivers a series of dramatic dead ends.

While the first movie steadily tighened its vise, the second loosens its grip through strained acting and incoherent plotting.

Give the girls a cheer, but remember: "Bring It On" is still the poo, Missy. Take a big whiff.

Director Gillian Armstrong turns Sebastian Faulks' pungent novel about World War II into a soporific.

Slow torture for kids and grownups alike, The Nutcracker and the Four Realms gives a bad name to the very concept of family entertainment.

Add Showtime to the pile of Hollywood dreck that represents nothing more than the art of the deal.

The only achievement in transferring The Goldfinch from page to screen is that it’s a botch job for the ages.

How the hell did Ben Affleck, 29, wind up replacing Harrison Ford, 59, as our hero? Who's next as Ryan -- Ozzy Osbourne's guppy son, Jack? Chronology hasn't been this royally fucked with since Memento.

The big problem with Big Trouble, despite a fine cast and director (Sonnenfeld made "Get Shorty" and "Men in Black"), is that the damn thing isn't funny.

What we have here is a comedy on life support, with Haddish and Byrne valiantly performing futile acts of resuscitation. Sorry to report: The patient died.

The Kitchen is deadly serious — and worse, deadly dull, even when it tries to act tough by laying on the violence and a heaping side of gore.

This year gave us the best and most imaginative Marvel film in "Black Panther." Now we have the worst.

We have to suffer through two hours of this rancid summer cheese.

So what's not to like? There's the bad CGI, the choppy pacing, the comically intense acting, the repetition, the dullness and mostly the idiot plot about how there's only one male dragon and everything will be fine if they kill the Big Dick. Wha? Somebody get a hose and put this Fire out.

This ultra-violent, ultra-stupid smarm-bomb deserves to take a few lumps before shuffling off to the digital boneyard.

A romantic thriller of more than usual ineptitude.

There is nothing distinctive about this toxic available-on-demand tripe except the absence of Mark Polish, though Michael didn’t spare his wife Kate Bosworth from acting duty in a thankless role. One thing’s for sure: This downpour of offensive ethnic stereotyping is a total washout.

Even if male stars from Neeson to Bruce Willis have been riding the same gravy train for decades, Garner has the talent to make us expect more. She needed support from the filmmakers. But what did she get? A lazy facsimile of the revenge movie she so richly deserved. There’s no reason audiences should accept it.

This misbegotten sequel to 2014’s not-so-hot Maleficent is a torturous exercise in brightly-colored monotony that chokes on repetitive screenwriting, amateurish directing, paycheck performances and digital hardware for a heart. Kids under five (months) might be fooled, but sentient filmgoers know a scam when they see one.

Start the new year off wrong with another Kevin Hart misfire that doesn’t even try to be funny, preferring to slide by as a humdrum heist movie that steals time you'll never get back.

Beware all male viewers who enter here, you are in chick-movie hell.

Stinks worse than dino dung. Sure, the creatures look good.

I'd rather be buried in a mound of Floridian chad than watch director Donald Petrie force Bullock to jump through another desperately unfunny comic hoop.

Exhibits rank incompetence on every level.

Soon to be infamous for bad decisions, this despairingly off-kilter toon looks like a movie, talks like a movie, but feels like a cynical cash grab propelled by the idiocy of turning our favorite mouthy, shamelessly lazy cat into a blah action hero voiced by Chris Pratt.

Dark Phoenix doesn’t just suck big time. It’s the worst movie ever in the X-Men series.

No matter how much money this clunker makes, this is a movie that never should have happened.

From the lowercase lettering of the title to the deadly familiarity of the plot, there is much to grate on your nerves in this TV Afterschool Special trying to pass as a real movie.

Get out your pooper-scoopers. Doo happens June 14th, warn the ads for Scooby-Doo. And they say there's no truth in Hollywood.

Does romantic comedy have to come off as sugared stupidity? It does here.

Wild Bill Friedkin’s original 1973 take on demonic possession was thrillingly too much. This safe and sorry sequel from David Gordon Green is boringly too little. Believe this: If you let the marketing devils lure you into this one, you’re in for an unholy mess.

Hilary Swank looks like she’d rather be anywhere else than starring as a journalist and grief-stricken mother in this overblown, undercooked drug drama about America’s opioid crisis that makes its scant running time of 89 minutes feel like a torturous eternity.

With everything going for this dystopian thriller about humans being replaced by replicants, including two hottie Irish Oscar nominees in Saorise Ronan and Paul Mescal as young marrieds in crisis, this stifling sci-fi misfire hits theaters as an epic botch job.

This, however, is not Mamet – it's a beast of roaring stupidity that devours everything in its path, including the veteran filmmaker.

What we have in the misbegotten mess called Kings is a film of countless good intentions – one that starts going bad in its first scene, gets worse form there and then dissolves into pure chaos.

In between scenes of the muscleheads torturing their victim, Bay indulges his taste for treating women as sluts and grisly brutality as a nifty excuse for a cheap laugh. Pain and Gain is personal all right. You leave these characters with the distinct impression that they're Bay's kind of people.

The half-star rating goes to John Krasinski for heroically rising above this vile dung heap of a movie.

Girl 6 is shameless stuff -- pompous, sentimental and attitudinizing. To swat the Spikeman with his own symbol, the film feels like he phoned it in.

This is crap as we know it, a 113 minute package of romcom suck.

If you see one Minnesota movie this year, make it "Fargo." This botch job should be stamped direct to video.

That generous half star rating I tacked onto this comedy abomination is all for Paris Hilton. Come on, it takes guts (or gross dim-wittedness) to appear on screen again after "House of Wax."

To be honest, I started hearing things, too. Just when Jones was delivering an inexcusably sappy speech about baseball being "a symbol of all that was once good in America," I heard the words "If he keeps talking, I'm walking."

What I can't figure is why anyone would want to release this tripe in theaters just when Fanning has nearly lived it down. They ain't no friends of mine, or any other moviegoer.

Fair Game, written and directed by men, allows model Cindy Crawford to make her screen debut as Miami lawyer Kate McQueen.

You'd get more of a jolt from Angela Lansbury on "Murder, She Wrote" and more intellectual stimulation from a cozy game of Clue.

Like the four franchise fillers that preceded it, Underworld: Blood Wars is undoubtedly impervious to bad reviews. What it needs is a stake through the heart.

This tear-jerking twaddle, adapted by David Nicholls from his 2009 bestseller, is nearly as bad as Anne Hathaway's British accent, which is heading for infamy.

I don't know what to say about the acting, writing and directing in G.I. Joe because I couldn't find any.

Toss this ugly-ass crap to the curb, along with the other multiplex garbage, and see a romance that gets it right. I'm talking "(500) Days of Summer."

Sucks bad, real bad.

Whatever juice is left in the "Cop" franchise or in the once unstoppable career of Eddie Murphy peters out ignominiously in this poor excuse for a sequel.

Ninety minutes pass like an eternity. Verdict: Down for the count.

It shouldn't happen to anyone, much less a Dame – not a movie of such barreling awfulness as Winchester, which strands the great Helen Mirren in a gothic house of cards that collapses on actors and audiences alike.

Misery is enduring this Rocky Horror Paris Show.

The language is leaden, the pace glacial and the characters indecipherable. It's easier to read the actors -- they all seem eager to win an Oscar. Fat chance.

Say this for the soundtrack, it drowns out the lousy dialogue.

This putrid dish marks a new low for director Roland Joffe.

John Q. is as fake as that tear, an exploitative mess trying to pass as social activism.

Peet is always worth watching, but the role does her no favors, and the script, involving a kidnapping and a surprise cameo by Neil Diamond - you heard me - smacks of desperation beyond saving.

Painfully flat gross-out comedy.

Gives us good reason to believe that January really is the month Hollywood studios use to bury their cheesiest mistakes.

The script that Nicholas Klein has conjured from Bono's idea is a quicksand that sucks down a solid cast.

Abort! Abort! It's that time of year when Hollywood releases movies it should never have made in the first place.

Filming this mess in North Carolina (strike three).

Dracula may stay undead in the new millennium, but there's not a sign of life - oh, that bloodless acting - in this sorry mess.

Crass manipulation can clean up at the box office, so do your part: Nail this flick as a bottom feeder and pay the bad word forward to three others.

The call on this one is: dead on arrival.

Reeks like something produced from a squatting position.

A shit stain on the genre.

Despite the star presence of Kevin Hart and Mark Wahlberg, this laugh-starved, buddy comedy is crushingly dim-witted and disposable.

On film, The Last Thing He Wanted settles for just being hollow. It’s the last thing any of us wanted.

A slipshod sequel that looks tossed together over a weekend by people who couldn't care less.

Shallow, sycophantic and absent a single unguarded moment, Melania is a near-two-hour infomercial disguised as a documentary. What’s the movie actually worth as entertainment? I’ll start the bidding at two cents.

Laced with such rampant misogyny that the laughs stick in your throat.

A script by Peter Gaulke and Gerry Swallow that is minus a shred of Farrelly wit.

In one scene, raw sewage is dumped on Joe. See Joe Dirt and you'll know how that feels.

What Lynch, who wrote the script at 19, sees as high drama is really high camp. And Fenn seems clueless on how to play her limbless character.

It's not just that the movie itself is wicked awful, it's that Mr. Deeds brings out the worst in Adam Sandler.

It would be great to see this turd squashed under a truck, preferably a semi.

The film takes a true story and drags it through a swamp of hyped-up Hollywood cliches.

It’s a form of actor abuse to see the legendary Morgan Freeman trapped in this relentlessly violent and vapid mess that does offer one lesson to students of cinema in how to do everything calamitously wrong.

An inexcusable horror sequel that lowers the bar to zero in terms of fun and fright. The only thing that scares me is this turd’s inevitable box-office success.

The film is in black-and-white so the gore doesn't spray quite as colorfully. But you'll still puke up a storm. Not so much at the movie, whose shock value wears off quicky, but at Six, who seems to hate himself almost as much as his audience. Masochists will give the movie a thumbs-up, as long as their thumb isn't already up their ass.

The Bay-man has made the worst and most worthless Transformers movie yet. I know, hard to believe, right? How could any summer blockbuster be as dull, dumb and soul-sucking as the first three Transformers movies? Step right up.

The laughs to be had in this deliciously awful sequel are all unintentional. A bummer for film buffs, but a ball for fans of the misbegotten.

What to say about this lame-brained, limp dick attempt to update a classic Brothers Grimm tale into an f-bomb throwing vomit-inducing 3D franchise? I say, screw the damn thing and run the other way.

God-awful is too wimpy a word for this superdiva cash grab that sinks Dakota Johnson and cast in what feels like a random batch of half-baked ideas tossed at the screen in the cynical assumption that we’ll buy any lazy hack-work that is Spider-Man adjacent. Resist at all costs.

Just stay away. It's awful.

When a stage musical as beloved as Annie hits the big screen and falls ignominiously on its fat one, you might ask: WTF? For starters, updating the Depression-era tale to NYC 2014 is a really dumb idea. The strain of the shoehorning is evident in every scene.

Make American movies great again. You can start by boycotting this one.

The unholy mess that director David Frankel and screenwriter Allan Loeb have unleashed for the holidays strands an all-star cast...on a sinking ship that churns the waters from absurd to zombified with frequent stops at pretentious.

At 87 torturous, laugh-free minutes, the film could change the most avid cat fancier into a kitty hater.

Lethal Weapon 3 offers mediocrity wielded by experts. It's not a movie, it's a machine.

The only tragedy you'll face is paying good money to this swill.

One look at the dreadful mess that is Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance will turn your whisper into a primal Cage scream: MAKE THIS MOVIE STOP!

Be warned, sequel fanboys: This thing sucks!

Some movies are so effing awful they're hilarious. Gods of Egypt falls short of that lofty goal. Not because it isn’t effing awful — it so is — but because it pretends to be in on the joke.

A total bust, a stupefyingly unfunny and shamelessly lazy farce packed with cringe-worthy jokes and overt product placement.

The real horror here is watching Sandra Bullock drop her big Miss Congeniality smile to A-C-T! She does this by not smiling. What happened to the range she showed in "Crash" and "Infamous?"

Who's the idiot responsible for this fiasco? You can't blame the Tea Party, an organization of 9 million that the film's producers are exploiting to get butts into seats. There's an object lesson in objectivism for you.

If you have to ask why this sucks, you deserve to waste your money. Why not also check out "Like Mike," "Juwanna Man" and "Hey Arnold! The Movie"?

How do I hate Armageddon? Let me count the ways.

It's early in the year, but I defy any 2008 comedy to be as stupid, slack and sexless as Fool's Gold. And I'm counting Paris Hilton's appalling "The Hottie and the Nottie," which is marginally better.

Transformers 2 has a shot at the title Worst Movie of the Decade.

You can see most of the plugs in the trailer. As most fans of the early, better Bond films know, the only life left in the series is in the gadgets....As for humor, Brosnan can deaden a double-entendre faster than he can change outfits.

One adjective you don’t hear much anymore is “preposterous,” defined as “contrary to nature, reason or common sense.” Yet the word applies perfectly to Inheritance, a blithering botch job of a thriller that begs the question: “Come on, are you f**king kidding me?”

Teenagers, even non-ninjas and non-turtles, have been eating up this cinematic waste product for weeks now. In one way, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is a triumph for producer Michael Bay in that it is equally as godawful as his "Transformers: Age of Extinction" and a hit nonetheless.

One idea, mixed with lame jokes, and stretched beyond coherence. Vampire Academy doesn't need a review. It needs a stake in the heart.

I hate Safe Haven. It's a terrible thing to do to your Valentine.

Memo to Beyoncé Knowles: You were so good as Etta James in "Cadillac Records," so why'd you go spoil everything with a rank cheeseball thriller that buries you in clichés and won't even help you dig yourself out?

Transformers: Dark of the Moon - high on any list of the worst blockbusters ever - is a movie bereft of wit, wonder, imagination, and any genuine reason for being. Watching it makes you die a little inside.

The only genuine, blood-curdling scream incited by this stupefyingly dull time- and money-waster comes at the end, when the notion dawns that Blumhouse’s Fantasy Island is meant to spawn sequels. Stop it now, before it kills again.

Talk about your pious frauds. I've got a better way to show your disgust for Internet scum: Don't see Untraceable.

Helms, a master jester on The Office, seems to have forgotten everything he’s ever learned about comic timing to judge by fiasco. Since Coffee and Kareem also credits Helms as a producer, he has only himself to blame.

Putridly written, directed and acted.

With this kind of epic ineptitude -- hell, the flick is set in the year 3000 -- you go for "worst of the millennium."

The first big-studio movie released in 2009 has a damn fine chance of being the worst. Bride Wars isn't just chick-flick hell for guys, it should numb the skulls of moviegoers of all sexes and ages.

There is no wrong time to flush this turd. The only bright spot comes during the outtakes over the final credits.

The latest reboot of the Fantastic Four — the cinematic equivalent of malware — is worse than worthless.

Droolingly stupid weepie. Useful tip: The movie dies way quicker than she does.

Bad Boys II has everything. Everything loud, dumb, violent, sexist, racist, misogynistic and homophobic that producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Michael Bay can think of puking up onscreen.

I could puke.

One of the worst movies of this or any year.

Simultaneously full of itself and full of sh--, Brooklyn's Finest is a cop movie so shallow, dumb, derivative and infuriating that it feels like a parody of bad cop movies.

If crap movies carried penalties for inflicting torture on audiences, then Rings would merit a death sentence.

Yes, you read that correctly: zero stars. When talented people create one of the worst movies ever made, you have to ask: What the hell happened?

Derivative and blindingly dull, Quick Change is an occasion for a quick nap.

In a year of craptaculars, The Tourist deserves burial at the bottom of the 2010 dung heap. It offers talented people trapped in creative inertia. A microscope and a search party could not discover any trace of chemistry between Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie.

When studios plant these stink bombs in theaters, do they really think that audiences won't notice the stench?

A movie this unspeakably awful can make an audience a little crazy. You want to throw things, yell at the actors, beg them to stop. But the film drags on, digging horrible memories into the brain -- like Bruce Willis and Danny Aiello's singing.

Transformers: The Last Knight is all kinds of awful. It's also the worst of the series to date, which is saying something.

How do you rate a cinematic black hole that doesn’t deserve a single star? Do you simply give it five eyerolls? Better question: How does a movie, with all the talent in the world going for it, become a such a blithering botch job?

Allen screws up his directing debut with a script that smothers his wit in a blanket of bland.

If the devil made them all do it, he's one dull bastard.

Awful.

The Devil Inside manages not only to scrape the barrel's bottom but to drill a hole in said bottom and funnel deeper into the scum.

It’s early in the new year, but I doubt that 1996 will produce a film more unthinkingly insidious than Eye for an Eye.

Limp exercise in erotica...Rourke appears comatose, and Otis, though lovely in or out of her skimpy wardrobe, wears the pained expression of a woman who has accidentally stepped into something squishy and rank.

Attention, moviegoers searching for the worst movie of the year: We have a late-breaking winner. Cats slips in right under the radar and easily scores as the bottom of the 2019 barrel — and arguably of the decade. Even Michael Bay’s trash trilogy of soul-destroying Transformers movies can’t hold a candle. What happened?

With this last entry, we have officially hit the bottom of the barrel. Whips, chains, butt plugs and nipple clips are nothing compared to the sheer torture of watching this movie.

Maybe its gargantuan god-awfulness is not a exactly a sin against cinema. But throw away your money on a ticket and you’re in for two hours of certain hell.

The bloodsuckers in this thriller may not have much bite, but here's a movie that can -- it's guaranteed -- drain the life out of an audience in minutes.

Winter's Tale is preposterous twaddle.

When Macbeth said, "It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing," he must have had visions about Courtney Solomon's Getaway, a car chase thriller with zero thrills and a stench that all the perfumes of Arabia couldn't erase.

Bad beyond belief.

Somewhere along the line, Shanley let his gentle fable about the fear of love, responsibility and commitment degenerate into crude farce. And he has only himself to blame.

Everything in One for the Money rings cringingly false, from Heigl's absurd Snooki accent to Plum's romance with Joe Morelli, an Italian cop, played by – faith and begorrah – Jason O'Mara. To dismiss Julie Anne Robinson's direction as clueless would be a kindness.