Tyler Perry has finally achieved an odd kind of equality that heretofore eluded him: he's now just as mediocre and middle of the road as any other reliable hitmaker in Hollywood.

The movie is a bit of a departure for the mumblecore pioneer, one that does not play to his strengths.

The compellingly awful thriller, In My Sleep--in which Melrose Place meets imitation Hitchcock--is so unselfconsciously derivative that you have to admire it…or, if you don’t admire the movie itself, than admire the jejune chutzpah of writer-director-producer Allen Wolf.

What's most memorable about this plodding thriller are the copious amounts of foundation and lip gloss.

The case may be plausible, but Gibney's method - a singularly unimaginative trawl through archival footage and listlessly edited talking heads - is life-sapping to watch, and his editorial contributions laughably literal-minded.

The Sitter clocks in at a slim 81 minutes, but it feels significantly longer, as there is almost no fluidity between scenes, with the entire outing feeling slapped together at the last minute.

Even if 2016 is preaching to the choir, its fanbase is eager to tithe - it's spent this week as Fandango's #1 ticket seller.

There hasn't been such an egregiously self-congratulating piece of Communist propaganda since, arguably, the peak of '60s Soviet musicals, but Revival is so repetitive and po-faced that there's no kitsch value to be had.

The Undefeated says less about Sarah Palin than about the political and cultural environment that made her big screen beatification possible.

Inside the dreadful action comedy Cat Run, there are about three terrible action comedies struggling to get out.

Fails to deliver enough clever gags, emotional warmth, or eye-popping 3D to compete with recent family releases.

Fischer and Messina may make a cute pair, but amidst such contrivances, they're powerless to make this RomCom seem like anything more than a creaky retread of obvious indie clichés.

The big event plays in the same cartoonish key as the rest of the film.

This is the kind of movie where the audience of extras orgasmically react after every song as if they were at a Bruce Springsteen concert instead of watching a bunch of kids who wouldn't make the cut in a junior high production of "Bye Bye Birdie."

Kalamity is a real klunker.

The movie's simple-minded lesson that forests are good and development is bad is undercut the minute one pauses to think about how many natural resources were wasted on this sorry excuse for a motion picture.

Falling to pieces almost immediately, and then somehow discovering new ways to devolve into outright ludicrousness, it's a horror effort of such silliness that it's likely to be greeted with apathy at the box office before making a swift, deserved trip to the local video store's bargain bin.

A thoroughly shabby attempt to piggyback on the success of last year's "Piranha 3D," Shark Night 3D embraces convention with a voraciousness matched only by its predictability, amateurishness and all-around tameness.

Should be immediately screened in film schools across the world as a shining example of everything that is wrong with the American studio system and the increasingly dreadful junk it produces.

Slapdashly assembled and lacking in dance thrills, the poorly promoted Battlefield America will drive away the few audiences that show up.

The film's length and muddled message will likely keep it from reaching much of an audience, even within the presumed Latino faith-based target.

Apollo 18 is a drab horror that tries to plant fears about untrustworthy authority (Nixon, NASA, etc) that are as stale as a freeze-dried peas.

Sinister is pretty much everything to hate about modern horror in one mixed bag, a ramshackle teardown of jump-scares and creaky tricks, saw-it-coming "surprises" and the lead-footed thud of inevitability as it tediously places one clumsy foot in front of the other, plodding towards a finale that comes far too late.

Of course, Bucky Larson isn't one of the year's worst films because its laughs are poisoned and problematic - rather, it's one of the year's worst films because there aren't any laughs at all.

A pathetic thriller and lame social satire that suffers from abysmal writing, poor pacing and terrible acting, even from the normally reliable Sean Bean.

If "Midnight Run" and "His Girl Friday" had an unwanted, mutant baby, it would be The Bounty Hunter, a romantic comedy where the jokes sputter and die immediately after exiting the character’s mouths.

From its baldly overwritten dialogue to its claustrophobically stingy use of locations, Dragons is underdone in every way.

Everything about this film is fairly offensive, including its racial stereotypes, homophobia, misogyny, generally bad writing and amateur filmmaking.