Robert Koehler

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

The latest model in the recent spate of underwhelming female star vehicles, Enough, a thriller detailing how a good wife gets back at an evil, possessive husband, is never provocative enough to generate strong emotional response.

Overall aroma of movie junk food.

The strain needed to extend The Whole Ten Yards a yard -- and to feature length -- is so painfully evident it breaks new pic's comedy spirit, making it a particularly dubious member of the Sequel Hall of Shame.

Suffers greatly from both a visibly constrained budget and an extraordinarily dated feeling.

Gruff and downright smelly, especially when star David Arquette is forced at one point to flop around in a pile of doggy doo.

Pic's future as a cult item is a sure bet.

Rude, crude and, uh, cosmopolitan, Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo waves the flag for R-rated politically incorrect studio comedy but doesn't top the laugh ratio of the first Deuce misadventure.

Nonsense, hysterics and many cuppas spill in Caffeine, an ensembler that serves up a menu's worth of forced and trite situations.

A romantic-comedy melodrama that’s too gentle by half.

In recent years, Steven Seagal has been steadily losing any firm standing as even a B-grade actioner icon, and by the genre's most basic standards, he now displays a visible fatigue and lack of interest that proves deadlier than any of his hero's skills.

Lacks the comic style or abandon to make its cynical turn on male-female relationships anything more than a short-lived stunt.

A quasi-metaphysical revenge Western that remains as elusive as a distant mirage on a long, dusty trail.

The question isn't where is the love but where are the laughs?

Misbegotten, unimaginative buddy pic.

Even dumb farce has to be built on logic, but that crumbles in the face of a set of tired routines playing off of stock types.

A shoddy vehicle for Jamie Foxx to ride into the summer season on.

At the most basic level, Boricua's Bond is at war with itself.

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.

Makes little impression and is sure to leave few memories for a teen.

A horror movie without horror, a spook pic without spookiness and a metaphysical drama without the slightest spiritual tug, Soul Survivors virtually dwindles away on the screen.

Voice work is weirdly awful and funny at the same time.

So absurdly contrived that it begs to be taken as comedy.

Remote, non-involving and finally incomprehensible.

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.

Little more than a mall movie designed to kill time.

Patently absurd in both the details and larger aspects, the ultraserious pic is undermined by poor casting.

More boring than stomach-churning, the film nevertheless contains scattered scenes and sequences so far beyond the tolerance of the squeamish that it can't be overstated.