Steve Davis

Stupefyingly inane buddy-cop comedy.

Whether you view it as intellectually dishonest or just plain sloppy, Deception is a movie that more than lives up to its title.

This is one movie best left unattached.

Interminably unfunny, this holiday offering about how the three Firpo brothers learn the true meaning of Christmas from the inhabitants of the quaint small town whose bank they've robbed is something of a crime itself.

It’s a frustrating thing to unsnarl. Straddling the thorny fence of dramedy, Love the Coopers is a sometimes too serious, often not funny entry in this year’s tra-la-la movie sweepstakes.

Nothing in the film remotely resembles any location between San Antonio and Dallas, the beginning and end points of its labored trajectory. For someone in Fresno or Akron, this may not be a big deal, but for those of us in these here parts, it’s a damned distraction.

For all its unsubtle sentimentality (including a you-can-see-it-from-a-mile-away plot twist), it remains unclear whether Little Boy intends to celebrate the conviction of belief or to mock it. It’s an unfortunate confusion that permanently stunts its growth.

While Lopez carries off the overdone damsel-in-distress schtick somewhat credibly, Guzman fails to step up to the trickier role of her seducer and stalker.

It's hard to imagine how anyone could remain dry-eyed while watching the scene in which John Q. tries to cram in a lifetime of fatherhood advice in a goodbye speech to his son.

If only Bullock could have foreseen how bad Premonition would turn out to be, she would have spared herself (and us) a lot of agony.

It's a bad movie that only a parent could love.

It’s like being haunted by outsized chimney sweeps that never bathe. And for the most part, it’s about that scary.

The fun in Norbit is watching Murphy at work – the guy has a knack for bringing the physicality of his comic characters to life.

While the somewhat indefatigable Stone may survive this misfire (she's survived plenty of others), Lumet may not.

The movie aspires to be an inspirational screwball comedy of sorts about the stresses of motherhood, but the situational humor lacks the spontaneity necessary for some crazy fun.

The movie simply trudges along, tirelessly making its rounds, just like its holy sister walking impoverished streets with grim purpose.

It had a little originality, unlike the other sequels, but not much.

There’s something earnest and forthright about the movie, despite its misguided execution.

It’s like watching a cartoon version of American Idol on an endless karaoke loop.

Avoid it like the plagues.

This mirthless comedy about a manly crew of smokejumpers helplessly babysitting a trio of rescued brats has more dead air in it than a radio broadcast hosted by a narcoleptic disc jockey.

Jawdroppingly bad, this adaptation of Michael Crichton's 1980 novel about a talking ape named Amy and a fabled lost city deep in the jungles of central Africa is as sophisticated in execution as a Jungle Jim movie.

A wretched experience from start to finish.

I give this the BOMB!

It's the kind of bad movie that gives bad movies a bad name.

It's like "Jackass," but with a budget and no midgets.

The laughs are few and far between.

A gruesome whodunit that's missing more than a few brain cells.