One might expect that with such low goals the film might have at least hit its target more often than it does. Schneider's mugging is relentless and his constant need to suddenly transpose himself into another character undermines the story's continuity and progression.

This kind of angel stuff is classic Hollywood fare, especially at Christmastime. Thus, it's all the more wonder that director Nora Ephron has missed and mishandled so many of her cues.

It’s important to note that Breathe was produced by the Cavendishes’ son Jonathan, who co-owns a production company with Serkis. I suppose not everyone sees their parents for the flawed humans that they are, but in this case, things would be a lot more interesting if they did.

Loud, abrasive, and featuring performances seemingly calibrated to be heard over the cacophonous roar of Travolta's mad, bad overacting.

Only the underplaying Selleck gets out of this with any dignity, while O’Hara is totally wasted as Jen’s one-note tippling mom.

Anodyne and asinine in equal measures, The Violent Heart is just brainless.

A twist ending in search of its movie.

A moribund Harrison Ford vehicle, stodgily dull, and seemingly endless in its monotony.

Mostly, New Year's Eve is appalling stuff, a poorly constructed, sentimental sham. Auld lang suck.

What else can I say about a movie in which even a brilliant artist like H.R. Giger repeats himself… except that besides a few random moments, Species just doesn't make the grade and also manages to waste a fine cast along the way.

It's not really a matter of Nancy's retro look and grounding in the fundamentals of sleuthing that separates the women from the girls but, rather, this film's lack of gaiety and surprise that makes it dud for old and new generations of the books' fans.

There is no denying that being parentless during the Great Depression called for a lot of resilience, but 12 Mighty Orphans’ underdog story unfortunately plays out to farce levels of entertainment.

Atlas won't be the only one to shrug off this tiresome load.

Quite possibly, this could have been a hit back in 1975 or so, and almost certainly for Blake Edwards, but here and now it's just a puzzling aberration.

Less a Nic Cage movie than a movie with an extended cameo by Nic Cage in a “finely crafted” paper hat (!), this Greek/Cypriot co-production mixes mediocre martial artistry with a sci-fi spin and ends up a puzzlement to both genres.

"Here Comes the Bomb" would've been a more fitting title, but props to Henry Winkler for rising to the occasion and turning in a sweet, idealistic performance in a film that otherwise feels like a tawdry commercial for the UFC and MMA.

Love Happens? It depends on your definition of “love.” And “happens.” There isn’t much of either in this predictable, putzy drama.

The Protégé suffers from its predictability and lack of nuance. Despite a somewhat promising if well-worn plot, the characters and performances can’t seem to catch up.

The movie sucks. It has an idiot story.

This one misses the boat by several nautical miles.

It's a tonally confused comedy which, for once, doesn't go far enough comedically.

Carping on a film clearly targeted to 5-year-olds might seem unjust, but the filmmakers go about their business in such a lazy fashion that the viewer can’t help but feel irritated by the whole ordeal.

There are precious few things for a Zorro fan – or a film fan, for that matter – not to loathe about The Legend of Zorro.

It's not just a bad movie it actually manages to suck the very hope out of the air, leaving behind a cinematic vacuum populated by mobsters, sadists, pedophiliac demon-people, and an overwhelming sense of futility that just makes you want to run in the other direction.

Get out your handkerchiefs. No, scratch that -- get out a pair of windshield wipers and staple them to your brow. Perhaps they'll obscure the screen.

There's no getting away from the cloyingly cute, well-intentioned little monster at the heart of this story. The movie is also notably, and unnecessarily, unkind to doll-playing little girls and grown women who work outside the home. A movie that makes you leave the theatre with thoughts of having yourself, and your neighbors, spayed is not a good thing.

Like Mike is a slight and uninventive movie: Like the exalted Michael Jordan referred to in the title, many can aspire but none can equal. Even "Space Jam" was better than this.

It recycles gags from earlier and better Myers movies and hopes that the audience won't notice because they're too busy staring at Timberlake's bursting Speedo.