As the year stumbles toward its conclusion and critics begin penning their best-and-worst compendiums, here's a holiday contender fit for the all-time Naughty List.

Emotionally powerful.

Isn't any fun at all, which is ultimately the most damning thing you can say about a Bruckheimer movie.

The central theme of the movie is the pure joy the cartoon takes in childishness.

Begins as comedy, morphs into drama and only belatedly introduces the noir requisites of subterfuge, cunning and death--none of which, by that time, is necessary or even welcome. There is a great deal of life in this movie, and also promise, but its creepy ending betrays its sincere and painful core.

The whole thing has a dour resolve that undermines its attempts at humor.

The witless inanity of After the Sunset is so numbing that the sole reason for any living creature to sit through it--man, woman or household pet--is to marvel at the speed and variety of actress Salma Hayek's costume changes.

It's all fairly brilliantly twisted, but it seems that series creator Don Mancini has utterly given up on scares -- there's only one decent shock toward the very end.

We have a whole new reason to appreciate cinema's most creative chameleon (Depp) since Peter Sellers. The film itself is pretty and sweet but a tad soggy.

Has all the charm of a canceled CBS sitcom.

If only Condon kept up the Q&A format, because when he ditches it the movie turns flat and familiar.

If you have a chance to see the 3-D IMAX version of the movie ignore any objections. But if your only choice is a regular 2-D screen, The Polar Express is still three-fourths of a great movie.

This new version, which retains nearly every character and echoes nearly every scenario, is somehow its complete opposite--a slight, breezy incarnation that tries like hell to dishearten, which only makes it disingenuous.

This Jay-Z documentary is too much of a good thing, really.

Yes, yes--The Incredibles is beautiful to look at, but even more lovely beneath the computer-generated surfaces.

Were it not for the performance of Foxx, the movie, which touches every base and slows to a crawl near home plate, would sink even when the score soars.

It's brutal horror, where anyone can die at any time, and gorehounds will love it. Average folks may find it too intense.

You're almost tempted to laugh at Birth by the end, but by then you're too busy cursing it to bother.

The result is creepy and unpleasant.

The overall effect is scintillating and very engaging -- literally history in the making.

For the most part, Sideways is a great movie--impeccably written, directed and acted--that takes its characters on a journey toward something new.

Despite the tighter rewrite and the slicker production, it's obvious that Shimizu is still searching for what scares him, and until he finds it, he doesn't stand--ahem--a ghost of a chance of frightening us.

Wrenches paltry giggles and cheap warmth from a screenplay that makes "Son in Law" seem like Sam Shepard. But wretched Affleck is the real liability.

Like all good concert films, it's the next best thing to being there.

Director Brad Anderson (Session 9) is usually really good at humanizing ambiguous characters, and he ultimately succeeds, but he has to fight against Scott Kosar's script.

To call Undertow a '70s-style revenge movie is accurate, but those unfamiliar with Green who expect a typical genre picture may wonder why it takes so long to get to the action.

Succeeds in scaring you and boring you at the same time; unlike Moore's movie, it's agitprop bereft of artistry, porn for Republicans.

Bottom line: It's hilarious, vicious, offensive, thoroughly profane and a joy to watch, just like you'd expect. Be sure to sit through the end credits for a bonus song from Kim Jong-il to Alec Baldwin.