The dialogue is dumb ('zilla has the best lines, "arrrrrggh" and "maaroarrr"), New York is waterlogged, and Godzilla isn't on screen enough.

All I can say is, I certainly hope this dreary, bleary comedy doesn’t end up serving as a referendum on anything. That would be a disservice to women, not to mention movies.

It's a sort of soullessly cheerful cynicism that is about as far from Seuss as one can imagine.

The overlong comedy has few laughs and flirts far too much with racist, homophobic humor. A waste of a fine cast.

The only admirable aspect of the comedy is its insistence on the stupidity of racial prejudice. American moviegoers must be desperate to hear that message if they're willing to sit through so much ridiculous horseplay in order to receive it. [01 Jul 1993, p.12]

Sordid and sleazy, although the lead performances are hard to fault.

The bad thing about A Guy Thing isn't the talent of its stars but the warmed-over triteness of the material they're forced to work with.

I hope Keaton doesn't begin to make a specialty of these roles. They play into what is least attractive in her repertoire – the loosey-goosey, knockabout side of her that all too swiftly devolves into hysterics.

Even the delightful Duff disappoints.

Beverly Hills Cop III is perhaps the dumbest of the cop trio. There are no surprises, there's no real police work to unravel, and there are no mysteries. It's all very predictable with lots of gunplay, noise, and blood. [3 Jun 1994]

Norton's high-energy acting is the only element that saves the picture from being a total loss.

It may not matter to audiences that this film...is junk. But shouldn’t it matter at least to Hawn and Schumer?

The plot is hamstrung by trite formulas, and there's too much violence and family tension for very young viewers. Shaquille O'Neal is likable as the title character, though.

Let's look at the bright side. If this movie bombs as it deserves to, we won't have to sit through "Analyze Those" a few years from now!

Strenuously unfunny sequel.

Perry and Hurley don't have much chemistry, and the story is so dumb you might want to sue it for stupidity.

I hate to sound per-Snickety, but this lemon of a movie is a sadly unfortunate event.

It's a mash-up of blah buddy comedy and gross-out CGI monster splatter, with nary a laugh to be had.

This sexually explicit South Korean drama aims more to jolt than to illuminate, but it illustrates an aspect of Asian cinema that globally minded moviegoers should know about as films from that region take on more international prominence.

Weak acting, even by Hoffman. Aniston is so far above this material she should never, ever have signed on.

The only point of interest in New in Town is sociological. In the current economic climate, this comedy about workers whose livelihood is rescued by a benevolent boss represents the ultimate wish-fulfillment fantasy. Don't spend your hard-earned discretionary cash on it.

This is a great subject for a movie, but Hollywood has squandered the opportunity, using it as a prop for warmed-over melodrama and the kind of choreographed mayhem that director John Woo has built his career on.

It will be interesting to see whether audiences embrace Mr. Diesel's barely controlled vigilante as warmly as they embraced Clint Eastwood's swaggering "Dirty Harry" and Charles Bronson's nasty "Death Wish" characters a few decades ago.

The film contains so many endings that it's hard to tell what impressions the filmmakers want us to leave the theater with. Buy a copy of the book instead. It remains an excellent read.

The effect is intended to be ghastly – which it certainly is – but I was equally repelled by this film’s conceit. Oppenheimer allows murderous thugs free rein to preen their atrocities, and then fobs it all off as some kind of exalted art thing. This is more than an aesthetic crime; it’s a moral crime.

Maybe Jackson should avoid any more movies with "snake" in the title.

House of D, arrives in theaters this week, after debuting at the Tribeca Film Festival last year. I'm sorry to report it's the opposite of impressive.

The story is too self-conscious about its offbeat qualities, becoming so cool that it practically freezes on the screen.

Viewers of that age may overlook the contrived situations and the awful acting, which consists mainly of frozen grins. Nobody else will.

David Cronenberg's movie is a chilly meditation on this theme, carrying some cinematic interest but surprisingly dull given the story's outrageous subject.

The dialogue is utterly inane, but the high-tech effects deliver the sort of thrills that disaster-film connoisseurs expect.

The film is a disappointment, and at more than two hours' running time, a very long disappointment.

The repetitious script -- cobbled together by no fewer than five writers -- shows interest in nothing beyond action-centered plot gimmicks and tame romantic shenanigans.

I suspect audiences will see Shyamalan's portentous doodle for what it is - the height of arrogance and a bad night out at the movies.

If the Warner Bros. wizards have it right, what a girl wants is to see as much of Amanda Bynes as she possibly can...It's not so great for the rest of us, since the film has nothing else to offer.

Can a mild-mannered toxicologist and an eccentric Alcatraz veteran stop him before it's too late? Learning the answer means sitting through more than two hours of violence, vulgarity, and all-around excess, served up with high-tech trimmings by director Michael Bay.

Mostly trite and tacky despite Robin Williams's strenuous acting.

Clumsy filmmaking and a hoked-up screenplay make this a strong contender for worst picture of the year. [13 Nov 1987, p.21]

The plot pants so hard -- that it makes less sense than the average pet-food commercial.

The acting is solid and the heroine's quirky dialogue is amusing for a while. But repetitious writing and a weakly constructed story turn the promising premise into a disappointing mishmash of crime, politics, and show business.

The basic plot of Thomas Hardy's great novel "Jude the Obscure" comes through accurately enough, but its sublime irony and sardonic wit apparently got lost in the misty English countryside.

Plenty of mad moviegoers will put this in their diaries as one of the worst pictures in ages.

The movie gives us a Round Table and a flashing Excalibur but no magic, no mystery, no mythic resonance. Mostly there's a lot of slashing swordplay that should appeal to the picture's target audience of young males.

Why are Steve Carell and Tina Fey wasting their time, and ours, by appearing in the miserable comedy Date Night?

MESSAGE Nuclear blackmail is a horrible crime but can be defeated by vigilant and courageous authorities.

Barry Levinson's filmmaking style is often imaginative. The story contains horrific scenes of sexual torture as well as sadistic killings and other disturbing material, though.

Tries to be daring and iconoclastic but winds up seeming as spoiled and childish as its main characters.

This is fatuous twaddle with a nasty, misogynistic edge.

A perfectly funny idea -- call it "Ms. Ditz Goes to Washington" -- that's never allowed to take on real comic life. I laughed exactly once.

Borderline unwatchable, although, as is true of all Gilliam movies, it certainly is different.

A strong candidate for worst picture of the year.

Sadly it's been botched. Guess Who serves up such flat dialogue and stilted situations that it's hard to sit through.

Audiences may want their own speedy divorce from this irritating collection of stale jokes, pointless vulgarities, and warmed-over clichés.

Alas, the movie is less clever than its characters.

Een fans of Jay and Silent Bob may find the story too slender and the jokes too repetitive to be much fun.

The story is nonsensical, the filmmaking is monotonous, and the acting - aside from Marlon Brando's brilliant cameo as the cultist - is weak. [14 May 1997, p.14]

Santa Claus's bag couldn't hold as many clichés as the screenplay dishes out.

The movie's real spectacle is the sight of so many talented people slogging through such idiotic material.

Falls flat, with more "sound design" than delicious music, more slick film editing than graceful ballroom gliding.

Imagine a movie where every character is more self-centered than Ted Baxter in "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" of old, add a caboodle of idiotic jokes, and you have some idea of this ugly, unfunny farce.

The result is a quickly paced, slickly filmed entertainment that's also as crude and rude as the PG-13 rating will allow. It's mighty mean-spirited too, aiming "satirical jibes" at everyone from black illiterates to white rednecks, from breakers of the law to enforcers of the law, from society's elites to society's dregs.

This superficial treatment makes so many dubious decisions - oversimplifying issues, for instance, so there'll be more time for high-flying emotion - that 1960s veterans may be moved to protest rather than praise.

The comedy is shamelessly stupid and flagrantly vulgar by turns.

Opium- addicted Allan Quatermain becomes none other than Sean Connery. At least he gives a real movie-star performance, which is more than the other gentlemen manage. Extraordinary? Balderdash!

Ron Shelton's romantic comedy has no more visual excitement than a televised golf tournament, but the climax is truly surprising, and there's solid acting by Don Johnson and Cheech Marin.

A hodgepodge of violent action, ostentatious effects, and lunkheaded jokes, stitched together by a hackneyed plot. [01 Jul 1994, p.13]

The camera work is pretty, but the drama is flat and lifeless, more concerned with titillating its audience than illuminating its historical background. [20 Feb 1998, p.B2]

Get cracking, filmmakers. It'll take a lot of doing to beat this creep-show for worst picture of the year. It's about a computer programmer who beats the devil in a series of spooky challenges. No fewer than seven directors worked on it, and it doesn't make any sense at all. [23 May 1985, p.25]

An impossibly, incomprehensibly overlong and cacophonous bore.

Caine acts dignified throughout, but there's no way to dignify dreck.

A dark comedy about a bachelor party gone awry, it is excessively violent, ghoulish, and gory. Very Bad Things is lack-of-taste taken to the extreme.

Arnold Schwarzenegger fights an outer-space monster in a third-world jungle. The monster never has a chance. Neither does the jungle. Neither does the audience. [19 June 1987, Arts & Leisure, p.23]

It just may be the most boring movie ever made – period.

Monumentally unromantic.

They miss by a mile – or should I say, a light-year.

Paying homage to drug comedies of the '70s, Half Baked is high on getting high and low on laughs.

Comedy that seems designed to be as bad as it can be.

A movie of such stupendous uninspiration that, watching it, I didn't know whether to be affronted or hornswoggled. Movies this monumentally dreadful, after all, don't come along every day.

Such a feeble excuse for an action comedy that it's already taken pride of place in my upcoming worst-movies-of-2011 list.

This romantic comedy is so awfully misjudged and ineptly executed in every department that, while it isn't quite a contender for the "so bad it's good" category, this critic was nonetheless dabbing tears of laughter from his eyes.

The subculture of weekend warrior bikers is such rich comic material that the ineptitude of Wild Hogs is doubly offensive.

At points, the film sinks below the level of competent.

Frankly, it's excruciating to watch.

A sham.

Pauly Shore is less a comedian than a class clown, and his dim-witted mugging makes Jim Carrey's antics seem creative triumphs by comparison. Vapid, vulgar, and more to the point, not funny.

Veteran comics like Steve Martin and Madeleine Kahn wrestle valiantly with the incoherent story and ham-fisted dialogue, but it's a losing battle all the way. [30 Dec 1994]

Numbingly violent action.

The Griswalds drive to Las Vegas "because half the fun is getting there," but the fun never begins in this disappointing sequel to the Vacation slapstick comedies.

There's nothing fresh or off-beat in Final Destination 3, no talent that is struggling to get out. The only thing struggling to get out was me from the theater.

It's the audience for this film that will require therapy.