Ruthe Stein

Every once in a while you catch glimpses of originality and see what Gray Matters might have been if it hadn't gone soft and safe.

The Fountain' never comes together. Like the time traveler at its center, it's all over the map.

This so-called comedy is so not funny, it makes "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo" look like Chaplin.

Lange seems at a loss to know how to convey Martha's malevolence -- and writer-director Jonathan Darby offers almost no guidance.

It is crystal clear who screwed up this tortuously slow-moving romantic drama.

A mess, and that's really a shame.

The film is a particular disappointment considering its pedigree.

A slow-moving family drama guaranteed to induce a nap if not somnambulism.

The sequel is one big tease.

The movie [Sugarman] made gives little indication that she understands teen girls, dramatic or plain. Much of Confessions seems clueless and -- even worse for moviegoers of any age -- listless.

Recalling the earthiness Broderick Crawford brought to the original, I couldn't help thinking Gandolfini should have been cast as Willie.

The biggest puzzlement about "What'' is what it's doing in major movie theaters around the country when it so clearly belongs on one of those small cable channels given to peculiar programming.

Shoot 'Em Up is not only the title of Hollywood's latest descent into nonsensical mayhem but pretty much sums up the entire inane plot as well.

Muddled, to put it kindly.

A dreary little thriller that irritates more than it thrills.

Poor casting is compounded by a ludicrous script.

A pile of junk.

As bad as its title.

A half-baked script by Jacob Meszaros and Mya Stark admittedly gives Feig little to work with. But his young cast is capable of a lot more than is required of them in this so-called comedy.

Although well intentioned, has the superficial gloss of a TV movie of the week.

It's as if a trumped-up biopic of Andy Warhol were to appear titled "Soup.''

Hogwash and not even funny hogwash.

Sharkboy relies almost entirely on 3-D for its kicks. The novelty, however, quickly wears thin with the thinnest of stories to project.

A turkey.

The desperation TV stars must feel to be on the big screen is the only explanation for Edie Falco and Elisha Cuthbert's appearance in The Quiet, a creepy family drama that reeks of pretentiousness.

Sitting through Diggers is so tedious that you might find yourself envying the clam diggers. At least they get to be outdoors.

A Western short on dialogue and long on pomposity, is little more than an extended chase scene down a snow-filled mountaintop to a desert floor.

Although The Reaping' borrows elements from classics of the genre -- rips them off might be more accurate -- it fails to build the psychological tension that made them so creepily good.

Exactly what the title implies: mindless.

A lame pastiche of Hollywood romances.

Mitchell may be another Russ Meyer -- a dubious honor -- but he's no Tony Kushner.

Two guys panting over the same babe leads to tedium, despite a near-record number of overheated sex scenes.

A Christian-themed film about redemption with almost no redeeming qualities as entertainment.

The prologue sets a simpleton tone that, distressingly, continues throughout.

With words streaming out of their mouths instead of into bubbles, Ethan and his gang of past, present and future lovers sound laughingly unbelievable. They're on the road to inanity.

Noirish thrillers live or die by their plot twists and dialogue -- talk literally being cheap compared to action shots. Unfortunately, the script by first-time filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson fails on both counts.

Chock-full of holes.

For all the precision shooting, Autumn is a colossal misfire, a tedious film noir wannabe. It doesn't even qualify as film gris.

This is a movie of excesses that doesn't know when to settle down. It aims to be a slapstick comedy, a romantic comedy and a plain old romance but falls short of each goal.

It would require a near-lethal injection of nitrous oxide to induce laughter.

A disappointing sequel to the far funnier "Diary of a Mad Black Woman."

The dreary teen drama Step Up appears to be cobbled together from bits and pieces of successful movies.

Annoyingly simplistic.

Spending an hour and a half inside a uterus might be more entertaining than this tiresome sequel.

From watching this meandering, stilted movie, anyone unfamiliar with Charles Dickens' novel would be not only disinclined to pick it up but also clueless as to why it's considered great.

A bigger mess than the gas crisis.

Filth & Wisdom is dead in the water, an excruciating bore even at a compact 84 minutes.

The best that can be said of this charmless animated picture is that whether or not it ends happily -- an outcome you're unlikely to give a hoot about -- it does, happily, end.

A comedy so unfunny, it's tragic.

An annoying little film that attempts to be lascivious but is merely ludicrous.

So disturbing it makes you uncomfortable watching it.

Annoying, soporific and singularly humorless.

Save the price of admission to this dull retread and go have your hair done.

The young people in Nowhere spend a lot of time worrying about the world coming to an end. Watching these sour characters abuse themselves and one another, the more immediate concern becomes: When is this movie going to end?