All the broad humor of the original film is gone, replaced by clunky and often tasteless gags, and the attempts to extract pathos from genuine tragedies vary from tacky to insulting.

Maybe everyone involved was hoping that no one would see this movie, but Madsen is the only one who should fear anyone seeing his work.

Which brings me to another odd point: for a movie so obviously trapped in the teen-comedy formulaics of the early-to-mid-Eighties, Weekend at Bernie's II has surprisingly few nude blonde women. It is, after all, set in St. Thomas, but even this sure-fire, lowbrow interest-booster is ignored in favor of McCarthy's smarmy mug. Good lord, man, where are Golan and Globus when we need them? I could go on, but why bother? Let's just hope that this projected series of films (and I use the term loosely) dies a quiet, unremarked-upon death unlike that of its title character.

A nearly bloodless slasher film with fewer surprises than a broken jack-in-the-box.

Here's hoping someone breaks down and buys Brocka some more toys, if only to distract him from embarking on another flesh-and-blood production.

There's punishment and then there's prolonged, squirm-inducing psychological torture, which is a more accurate description of All's Faire in Love, a romantic comedy that will only be "romantic" to audience members under the age of 14 and utterly devoid of genuine yuks and the necessary rom-com spark.

The game is great fun -- the movie ought to be taken out back and shot.

A Tail of Two Kitties couldn't care less about its human principals, and all it wants its animals to do is air-guitar to "Cat Scratch Fever" and wear silly sunglasses.

It's not even funny. Nor does it contain half the wit or charm as the old Doris Day sex comedies it so resembles.

There's precious little to like about the witless and decidedly tedious Black Knight other than the fact that it's unlikely to generate a sequel.

The most poignant point in the whole painful endeavor is when the credits roll. It's here that we see the outtakes and watch Cedric riffing as he improvs variations on his dialogue. These outtakes are genuinely funny, standing as reminders that the last 90 minutes were a sad waste of talent.

Kennedy’s humor comes from the broad, brainless, lowest-common-denominator school (in other words, he was born to play a grown man with the intelligence of an boy).

The damn thing is boring. Dull as dirt. Despite the many fine actors involved, View From the Top is a third-class production through and through and, frankly, I'd rather be pelted in the head with stale, salty peanuts than sit through it again.

Camp has also been compared to Alan Parker’s "Fame," which operates with a similar love of behind-the-scenes melodrama and youthful idealism, but different in that it doesn’t induce brain-swelling revulsion in the viewer.

Director Dick Lowry and scenarists Stuart Birnbaum and David Dasheu's idea of a good time is so crude, they probably think Caveman was a comedy of manners.

Be it the use of faux snow that looks like the dog ends of previously owned Q-Tips or the successively worse series of blue-screened visuals, the film is shoddy from frame one.

Nothing about this movie works.

Baja is just plain bad.

Don't believe the hype: Paranormal Activity may be a lot of things, but the words "scary" and "movie" are not among them. It is instead nothing more or less than an excruciatingly tedious YouTube gag cleverly marketed to go viral in the broadest and most box office-friendly way.