One of the most deadly dull "SNL" spinoffs.

Intelligence is insulted at every turn in this new date movie.

It is so bad and illogical that even devoted loyalists should find their faith tested. The subtitle Dark Territory doesn't even begin to describe how inchoate and blemished this storytelling is.

Even with its scant running time, this nightmarish travesty barrels along with all the whipcord speed and nimble comedic grace of a loved one’s funeral.

The story is so shabbily built that it can make no valid claim to motives other than the filmmakers' mercenary desires to cash in on the public's prurient interests. And even on this bottom-feeder level, Showgirls fails to deliver the goods.

Granted, the state of the indie hipster and/or Big-Man-on-the-Quad aesthetic has probably skewed a bit since I was a frosh, but good lord, man, it can't be this pale an imitation of campus life. I implore you: Go rent "National Lampoon's Animal House" and leave this flaccid wanker alone.

Hideously directed with all the comic subtlety of Oliver Stone on speed, A Very Brady Sequel misses almost every single mark it sets for itself, from the disastrously ill-conceived animation that marks Roy's hallucinogenic mushroom trip at the family dinner table to the persistent background hiss on the film's soundtrack. Even Sherwood Schwartz would've hated this dog.

Isn't it time to put Robin Williams out to pasture? There's precious little mirth to be had via RV after the comically nasty opening set-up.

Cody Banks would probably be appropriate for the 13-and-older crowd, but it’s far too dopey for teenage sophisticates.

Long distance information? Get me Hollywood, USA: I’ve got a rusty ice pick to bury in the gullet of whoever greenlighted this pointless exercise in masturbatory tedium.

File this one under What Were They Thinking?

Forget this dreck: Where's that Michael vs. Jason grudge match we've been hearing about for the last decade?

Lame, mindless dialogue makes Wing Commander seem Cukoresque by comparison.

It’s cheese of the purest stripe, bafflingly bad to the point of being oddly charming in its brain dead naïveté.

Weaver and Willis look bored silly while essaying their paint-by-numbers roles, and this film does nothing to make me think Cavill is going to be Zack Snyder's Superman incarnate.

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

Instead of offering any insight or (dare I dream?) entertainment, Film Geek presents a socially retarded main character stumbling through a dimwitted plot with a series of painfully unfunny nonjokes.

In all fairness, the sheer, overwhelming mediocrity of everything about Pandorum – Travis Milloy's hackneyed, ultra-derivative script, Alvart's plodding pacing and dull direction, even the eventual crimson tide of gore that duly arrives just in time to keep audience members over the age of 13 from dozing off – may well constitute a new breed of horror: In space, no one can hear you snore.

Reeks as badly as it sounds.

Nobody of Chan's legendary stature should ever have to play second banana to George Lopez, and certainly not in a film that was already made five years ago with Vin Diesel (see: The Pacifier).

90 minutes of ridiculous, silly fun. Of course, it's still a very bad movie.

This is stilted stuff. The acting is disjointed, the movie should be subtitled Three Actors in Search of Their Characters. River Phoenix gives a somnambulant impersonation of Christian Slater impersonating Jack Nicholson, and Samantha Mathis spends much of the movie trying to figure out exactly who her character is.

It's pornography of the most depressing sort.

What does startle is how tiresome it all is.

Crafted within the broadest, not-quite-funny brushstrokes possible, director Lee’s movie about a class of troublemakers, hustlers, adult J.D.s, and Rob Riggle’s patented goofy man-child schtick struggling to earn their GEDs at the eponymous classroom fails, epically.

Director David Zucker once upon a time made a very funny movie called Airplane!. Twenty years later, he’s made a movie only a 13-year-old horndog could appreciate, and for all the wrong reasons.

There's an oddball quality to the ensemble that might even be lovable if the movie weren't so glib and perfunctory.

Any just God would likely recoil from the ham-fisted and spurious defense put forth in this film.