Once the terror ends and the credits roll, we finally get to the best part: a merciful escape.

If you really want to live life to the fullest, step one is to avoid wasting an hour and a half of your life in a theater showing Last Holiday.

Some of this stuff should give you some good laughs. Unfortunately, the film's not a comedy, and once the conservative-bashing wears off, the alleged thriller elements kick in. Too bad that for you, the viewer, there's still another hour to go.

This sort of thing is the problem with making stuff up as you go along.

It's barely a movie at all, more like a thousand car commercials spliced together in an hour.

Pretentious yet devoid of poetry, left-of-center yet artless, this well-intentioned trudge does not exist to be enjoyed or appreciated so much as to be coddled and patronized as one would a retarded child.

Director Marcus Raboy hasn't made a bad movie, exactly -- just one that seems to have forgotten its own jokes, much as those who watch it will forget everything about it a week later, stoned or not.

There are enough good scenes within the 94 minutes of The Guru to make an entertaining coming-attractions trailer.

To damn Herbie: Fully Loaded as soporific crap, as lazy profiteering, as yet another needless and cynical remake in a season populated by such con artists, would be as pointless as the movie itself.

Means to be heavy in terms of psychology, provocation and the examination of emotion, but it sinks like a stone the minute it hits the surface.

It's unfortunate that, nudity and all, this is one of Toback's absolute worst efforts.

Sits before us like an exquisite platter of wax fruit, colorful, flavorless, and, if you eat it, very likely to come back up.

Russell, a former student of Buddhist monk-philosopher Robert Thurman's, is reaching too far, straining too hard, saying too much that adds up to so little after all the mumbos and jumbos tallied up by film's end.

Every situation, every bit of dialogue, comes straight out of the Big Book of Movie Clichés.

Has all the charm of a canceled CBS sitcom.

Silly, misguided, formulaic and largely a piece of trash, but it's not quite a disaster. There's the dancing and the music and the sunlight.

Here is the horror-action genre at its silliest and most uninspired.

The most overrated movie of the year (of all time?) by people who should know better.

This compression of logic--coupled with two hours of ham-fisted delivery--guarantees that Antitrust won't jangle your nerves but will intermittently split your sides with laughter.

As an actress, Madonna has to work on her vulnerability more.

Banal sit-comedy masquerading as religious deepthink dolled up as boy-meets-goy love story.

If a movie is going to be so totally derivative, it should at least do a better job of it.

Get out your hankies and weep for the heart-tugging disaster Message in a Bottle.

Rent plays as a very long joke with no punch line, an exercise in mawkish sentimentality that's embarrassing to watch. Kudos to the actors for truly committing to their roles, but with this material, it might have been better if they hadn't.

It's flapping its wings so desperately in pursuit of artistic heights that it nosedives directly into the ground. The relentless exertion makes the film a chore to watch.

There's no reason to see this film in a theater -- you'll hate yourself for paying full price. Plus, you'll need beer, and lots of it, to appreciate the movie properly.

The pseudo-mystical nonsense in Brian Helgeland's supernatural thriller far outweighs its scare factor.

The final showdown between sole survivor and killer is sufficiently well done that you wonder why the rest didn't measure up.