Robert Koehler

As weak and banal as its thoroughly uninvolving central character.

A perfect example of the sad trend in contempo Latin American filmmaking to imitate old Tarantino with only a fraction of the stylistic cojones, frantic comedy dealing with two pairs of confused guys and one pair of kidnap victims is an empty exercise that loses its juice before first reel's end.

The resulting film is a trite piece of storytelling, with character development and plot points that feel not so much lived in as borrowed from other movies.

Lame stuntwork and subdued thrills indicate not just a low-budgeter, but a blindness to what target aud demands.

The more Marc Fusco and co-writer Michael Garrity's script aims for cleverness, the more it unravels.

A dull afterthought and a sorry vehicle for the comic expression of Martin Lawrence.

Supposedly, Pokemon can't be killed, but Pokemon 4Ever practically assures that the pocket monster movie franchise is nearly ready to keel over.

This extremely plot-thickened tale finally offers little more than the usual genre elements pushed to the kind of extremes that recall the acrid "The Way of the Gun."

Flubs nearly every opportunity to be the comedy it wanted to be.

A valiant but seriously flawed attempt to belie the notion that if you remember what you did in the '60s, you weren't there.

Shrouded by memories of better times and better movies, Frank Gorshin and Rodney Dangerfield's final screen appearances are unfortunately in the thoroughly hapless and embarrassing comedy, Angels With Angles.

It ends up a grinding, ludicrous depiction of a thuggish Bosnian's abuse of his sister.

An odd case of filmmaking with a crystal-clear subject but no guiding dramatic premise.

Feels entirely a part of an already faded go-go era. Pic is too late by a mile and rightly dumped in a few theaters by Fox, which will doubtless send it to video bins faster than you can say gigabyte.

Writer-director Jack Piandaryan appears as tone-deaf to his miscalculated dialogue as he is unable to eke out convincing perfs from his cast.

Surely one of the most frantic, virulent and foul-natured Christmas season pic ever delivered by a Hollywood studio.

Though the superhero's fans have long awaited his close-up, the Devil's bounty hunter -- complete with a burning skull for a head and a killer motorcycle in flames --materializes in a movie that never measures up to his infernal potential.

This deliberately pre-'90s slice of rock 'n' roll-tinged sci-fi horror, decorated with anything but the latest in special effects, seems particularly grungy and marginal.

Fails to stir the emotions despite its heavily melodramatic drive.

Haplessly blends live-action and visually repellent computer-animated work.

A woefully under-realized story of small-time boxers enjoying perhaps their last moment in the spotlight.

Misbegotten, unimaginative buddy pic.

Sadly symbolizes the decline of the Western. The 36th bigscreen version of the exploits of the James-Younger Gang is one of the least convincing.

A lark gone utterly awry.

Perfs are either absurdly stiff or over-the-top, and effects and makeup look like they were made in someone's garage.

Pic is hermetically sealed in a synthetic wrapping that's so total -- Sony's top-flight high-def cameras, visibly low-budget CG work, exceptionally hackneyed and imitative action and dialogue --that it arrives a nearly lifeless film.

Remote, non-involving and finally incomprehensible.

Young teen girls will flock to pic in droves, dragging their boyfriends or other girlfriends.