In the end, if someone doesn't have the time to absorb Tartt's book, they'd be better serviced reading a Wikipedia synopsis than seeing this film.

Dinesh D'Souza's America: Imagine a World Without Her paints a genuinely troublesome portrait of the country — just not at all in the way he intends.

The Dark Tower is a near-total whiff, a mess of a movie that took forever to get made and by the look of things should have taken about twice that long. Or maybe just never have been made at all.

The movie is plagued with long stretches of dialogue-free contemplation and static shots of nature happening. At only 83 minutes, the film is too slight to feel so padded.

Dumb, lazy, obvious and largely pointless.

When an inane ending appears out of nowhere and purports to add depth to a movie which has little? That's just maddening. And the twist in Serenity leaves you feeling both cheated and annoyed, which surely isn't the filmmaker's intention.

It's big, it's loud and it's all over the place, never really making a lick of sense. To his credit, sort of, director Michael Bay tries to insert a little story into the film early on, even a little humor, but that's overrun at some point by explosions and plot digressions.

There is very little on the screen to capture your attention.

The title Acts of Violence has less to do with the storyline of the movie it graces and more about what’s perpetrated against the audience watching it.

It's an unpleasant way to pass a couple summer hours.

It fails to offer as single compelling character as a sacrifice to the angry volcano.

The whole thing is sentimental corn, which isn’t bad if it’s handled with conviction and sincerity. But the direction by John Stephenson (better known for special effects than directing) is resolutely stiff and hollow. That’s murder for a movie dealing with miracles.

This wildly distasteful premise is meant to be cute and enlightening, like a modern Frank Capra flick, but this is hardly "It's a Wonderful Life." Instead, the movie keeps tripping over itself.

While the special effects are impressive enough, M. Night Shyamalan's film doesn't make a lick of sense.

These supremely talented women are put through embarrassing paces by director and co-writer Bill Holderman. It’s meant to be a film about a reawakening of desire, and thus life. It turns out to be a wince-inducing mess.

Maybe there’s a place in the film world for El Coyote as a cult artifact, something that years from now enthusiasts will defend as a kind of dada experiment. In the moment, though, as you suffer through it, it’s just an ill-conceived mess.

If you’re a major fan of the "Love Live!" world, this is possibly enjoyable. If you’re not, it is shrill, garish, confusing and badly paced, with cheap-looking animation and characters that resemble Walter Keane’s big-eyed waifs.

Elvis Presley made some bad movies, but let's give the King his due: He never made anything as outright awful as The Identical.

Agonizingly stupid and painfully illogical.

It comprises some 20 talking heads, each pretty much saying the same thing, interspersed with film of children dressed up as mythical heroes, enacting the stages of the "hero's journey."

Maybe your kids will insist that you see Furry Vengeance. Then again, wouldn't this be the perfect time to let them test their independence and sit through it alone? Otherwise, good luck. You have my condolences.

The script to this flop doesn't even have enough laughs to amuse someone in the most boring of orthodontist waiting rooms.

Not even the snickering juvenile who lives in the deepest gutters of your brain will get a cheap thrill out of these antics.

It's bigger and louder and, if not longer (checking in at a mere two hours and 28 minutes), certainly stupider than ever before.

Moronic mace-and-mail mischief. [02 Jul 2004, p.1p]

The dialogue is agony.

Pure preaching-to-the-choir poppycock.

The Purge is one of those unimaginative horror flicks that depend on skreeky music and sudden appearances to startle, but never actually frighten, the audience. The characters are undeveloped, the twists clumsily telegraphed and unsurprising.