Badland's only commercial potential lies in the possibility that people may confuse it for Terrence Malick's incomparable "Badlands."

Go back and re-watch Nick Cassavetes’ vastly superior "The Notebook" and steer clear of director Ross Katz’s grindingly dull, Valentine’s Day folly.

Well-intentioned but hardly well-executed.

No doubt the most devoted horse lovers in the tween set will get their fill, but parents should sneak out for a very long popcorn break.

Indisputably awful comedy.

Subpar special effects and a by-the-numbers final act “Yakety Sax” chase send this sad mess back to a mercifully early grave.

Silly and implausible.

There are undoubtedly filmmakers who could’ve taken that setting and created something genuinely spooky; it’s a shame to see an excellent setting go entirely to waste.

Muddled, sloppy, and obfuscating.

None of it is handled with any emotional believability or grace. Well-worn phrases and plot developments are repeated here as though the world had never heard of "Cinderella."

Certainly movies are a business, but it's only good form for them to at least pretend that they have some reasons for existence other than the purely mercenary. The goal of entertainment has been forgotten here in the mad dash for formulaic guarantees. These comedy nun pushers have forgotten that there's no bottom line at heaven's gate.

Darby and co-screenwriter Michael Cristofer ("Breaking Up") telegraph every available bit of plot seemingly hours before it's necessary, resulting in a tawdry, boring mish-mash of genre clichés and arched eyebrows.

Redgrave still manages to inspire awe, yet a poetically prosaic moment like the one in which she goes chasing after a butterfly is enough to throw a net over the whole thing.

While watching it, I kept thinking this was like "47 Ronin," in which an unfortunate novice director was given a project way out of his or her reach. In no way was I prepared to learn it was the work of veteran Harlin.

The only people who should be peeved enough to raise hell about Year One are the viewers who had to pay to sit through it.

A dull, plodding remake.

A reprehensible movie from just about every perspective, Ransom tries to justify the behavior of its lead character as something grounded in principle, but make no mistake about it: This is the act of a man who can't bear the thought of losing, a man who will turn the tables on his enemy at the risk of a beloved's death.

Branagh might as well have opened a can and dumped it on a plate, the ridges of a factory-line production still perfectly hatched on a gelatinous cylinder of crud.

A forgettable and lackluster fish-out-of-water rom-com.

Absurdism taken to a new extreme.

A frustrating exercise in diverted expectations.

The movie brings no new material to the screen and banks on the fact that its underage audience has an unschooled memory. Don't insult your kids with this choppy, unimaginative film product.

Envy feels like a comedy in search of a drama in search of some sort of lugubrious existential meaning; it never quite seems to know where it's going to head next, and neither will the audience.

It's all noise and flash and chaos, but it lacks virtually everything that made the original television series so memorable.

Apart from its rushed pacing and occasionally stale dialogue, Thinner suffers even more from the fact that it has no redeemable characters.

Carpenter's updating of the classic 1960 chiller is mediocre at best, and at times plummets into unintentional humor. It's arguably the weakest horror film he's ever made.

Like some sort of evil Hollywood hybrid, Encino Man begs, borrows and steals the worst bits from both Iceman and Fast Times at Ridgemont High and ends up being just as vacuous as you think it is.

Most Americans will be unfamiliar with the late British writer Kyril Bonfiglioli’s Mortdecai novels, on which this Johnny Depp comedy is based; still, no reference point is required to come to the conclusion this is a rotten movie all around.