Right now, this goofy film is the best candidate for mindless, enjoyable laughs.

By the time the film's climactic 15 minutes rolled around, viewers at a preview were laughing as if they were watching "Knocked Up." For a horror picture, such a reaction is the equivalent of a stake through the heart.

There is no greater significance to these skits than the ones you can see in reruns on Comedy Central. Still, for diehard MiSTies, these shortcomings won't matter. The lure of trashy cinema will prevail along with the strangely gratifying thrill of hearing the traditionally G-rated 'bots indulge in racier, foul-mouthed comments. [10 May 1996, p.6G]

Bordello of Blood isn't quite awful, but there's nothing in it better than its catchy title. [19 Aug 1996, p.2C]

Offers a few strange twists on well-used material. [12 Sep 1983, p.C5]

No ears for dialogue around here, either: Several characters observe that the invention "blew my socks off," an expression so odd that we expect it to lead to a comic payoff. But there is none, and there's not much to the movie, either. [30 Sept 1983, p.D1]

Mr. Holland's Opus is compulsively watchable: Eager to please and never very challenging, it's the kind of movie you might stumble across while channel surfing and watch to the end. Almost despite itself, the movie also manages to celebrate the heroism of the teaching profession with surprisingly moving power. If only it had done it with more grace and less schmaltz. [19 Jan 1996, p.4G]

Falling in Love isn't consistently dull; it's funny in spots, particularly during an opening montage of scenes in which the principals are doing their Christmas Eve shopping, and almost meet a bunch of times. But the shift from not meeting to meeting does not generate much drama. [21 Nov 1984, p.C1]

The movie puts us back in Poltergeist territory, but it cannot approach that film's shock value. The plot is too simple. Watch the children pulverize the demons. Watch the demons terrorize the children. You get the idea. [22 May 1987, p.D5]

Watching an army of apes riding horses heading into battle is undeniably cool, but that’s the only thing the movie gives you: Neat eye candy. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is written at a level so low, even 8- year-olds will find it lacking.

Killer Elite is too formulaic to overcome a been-there, done-that feel.

Feels so slight and trivial, like a cute but small idea blown up to proportions it does not merit. A surprisingly unfunny, belabored and unimaginative comedy, Bee Movie is a huge disappointment considering the extent of Seinfeld's participation.

In Happy Tears, Posey lands a juicy starring role designed to showcase her eccentric energy, and she's so delighted by the opportunity that her happiness infuses the movie: She keeps the first half of Happy Tears aloft on a cloud of endearing tics and mannerisms.

The bigger problem with the film, which is genuinely unnerving at times, is what happens when the cavers are not in immediate peril, because they talk.

Something of an overlong, overblown, disorganized mess, despite being slightly better than its predecessor.

The main problem with Iron Man 2 lies in the script.

In the end Secret Window asks too much, demands allegiance when only incredulity can be mustered.

Anything but light on its feet. It lumbers instead of dazzles, drags where it should feint and jab.

Allegedly it's based on a true story, which is believable only because the outcome is so unsatisfying it carries the dull metallic tang of real-life ambiguity. And that's neither scary nor stimulating.

The original's mildly offbeat sense of humor is at work in 2, and the cheesy special effects return as well (the Krites look like nothing so much as deranged Muppets). Still, this is the kind of goofy B-movie that will look good on the small screen -- so watch for its release on tape. [07 May 1988, p.B5]

It's a clammy, depressing movie, but not a very illuminating one.

Final Analysis is a big, brooding film about desire, betrayal and psychosis that seems to have Alfred Hitchcock's fingerprints all over it. It has all the ingredients of a great thriller: a bizarre love triangle, murder, gunplay on a stormy cliff. But Hitchcock isn't in the director's chair. Phil Joanou (who made the arty State of Grace ) is, and his movie winds up as just another clumsy mystery. [13 Feb 1992, p.F1]

John Cassavetes has been making exquisitely personal films -- or agonizingly personal ones, depending on one's tastes -- for years now. Sometimes, they are intimate dramas (Faces, Husbands, A Woman Under the Influence). Sometimes, they are dark comedies in melodramatic dress (Gloria). And sometimes, as in the newly released Big Trouble, they are just a mess. [19 Apr 1986, p.D1]

The first film was tedious in the extreme; Monsters Unleashed, though it feels way too long and padded, it shows at least brief flashes of imagination.

There is more truth to the lives of people alone than Hiller and his writers have cared to admit, and, consequently, more humor. The Lonely Guy is short on both. [31 Jan 1984, p.B5]

The movie fails utterly at coming up with a story that merits all the eye candy.

Essentially a rip-off of "Apocalypto" for audience members too young or squeamish to endure graphic human sacrifice and jaguar face-eating.

Solondz's determinedly removed eye for the graphic and shocking is by now practically a cliche. If Solondz really wants to outrage anyone, he'll have to make a sweet and heartfelt drama.

The actors are talented enough to carry the movie, but they fade into the background once things grow dire, and the special effects take over. There's no sense of wonder or awe.

One has the sense before Dune is well under way that it is the kind of film that may reveal itself over several viewings -- and certainly, there seems to be $47 million worth of things to look at. But fidelity to the source can be a trap, and Lynch fell into it; his movie is big and splashy and nearly nonsensical. [14 Dec 1984, p.E1]

The director was Martha Coolidge (Valley Girl), about whom people have been using the word "potential" for a decade or so. Trapped inside Real Genius, there's a real director trying to get out. [7 Aug 1985, p.D5]

It's a gentle and wholly implausible comedy with an appealing character carrying the load -- no more. [27 Sept 1986, p.D3]

Palo Alto is a pale imitation of the early novels of Bret Easton Ellis, who wrote about young ennui and misdirection from the inside out.

It plunges so deep, in fact, that the film winds up bordering on the unwatchable.

It does boast loads of cool gadgetry and some impressive special effects. It's not much, but at least the movie always gives you something to look at.

Ardor is never boring, but it’s never all that engaging, either. Here is a movie that ends with a can’t-miss scenario — a siege on a farmhouse in which the heroes are vastly outnumbered and outgunned — yet still fails to ever quicken your pulse.

You might not think it would be easy to make a dull film about love, war and a bisexual threesome, but Head in the Clouds manages this task efficiently.

Soapdish is a spoof of soap operas, and the problem should be apparent from the start: It is very, very difficult to parody that which dwells already in the land of self-parody. [31 May 1991, p.G5]

Sidesteps from the premise of "It's a Wonderful Life" far enough to avoid copyright charges, but not far enough to avoid unfavorable comparisons

Criminal is happy to reprise Fabian Bielinsky's original note for note, and it's a listless, dutiful affair -- a cover version played out of obligation, not inspiration.

What appears to be the thrust of the story -- the unraveling of a society -- loses out to a tame, romantic triangle subplot.

Just plain silly.

Brothers is a collection of strong moments that don't add up to anything. The movie is all build-up.

Melodramatic realism is the wrong genre to tell the tale of a figure whose life was already over-the-top melodramatic.

The whole of Prometheus - which was written by Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof, and rips off everything from "2001: A Space Odyssey" to "Event Horizon" - feels derivative and passé: The film is a shiny, high-tech relic.

The Krays is painted with such broad strokes, and the characters are so full of hot air, that the movie sags in the middle, ending up a mildly entertaining mixture of psychobabble and rat-a-tat-tat. [09 Nov 1990, p.G10]

A lot of the charge, the pow and zap of Earl's life seems to be missing. The performance has but a single note, and after the novelty of Newman as cracker wears off, there's not much else there. [13 Dec 1989, p.D1]

This is an insignificant film with a passably entertaining premise that goes wildly to hell the instant it strays from its comic ideals with brief, unsatisfying detours into the realms of art and high-end lingerie.

Children will at least be diverted. Adults, after they tire of trying to detect the hidden strings, are likely to find Batteries Not Included too manipulative to tolerate, but predictable enough that they can safely nap for long stretches. [18 Dec 1987, p.D1]

The best stuff in Human Nature comes early, while the movie is still spry and daring --Then the film runs out of ideas, repetition sets in and so does boredom.

It's like a tantalizing CliffsNotes version of what could have been.

Ruby in Paradise, which is really about nothing more than a woman's quest to succeed as a cashier in a boardwalk gift shop, never rises about the nearly staggering banality of its plot line. [12 Nov 1993, p.G15]

Ultimately the story of someone who preys on other serial killers, but can't seem to come up with an original way in which to do it.

This period piece, directed by Richard Laxton, is shot in such a grim and grainy fashion you long to turn on the lights — which is fitting, because you also wish the filmmakers had illuminated the characters a bit more clearly.

The ending of The Forgotten leaves you feeling the same way, wondering just how much -- if anything -- of what came before actually happened.

Mel Brooks has never been a finesse comic, and no one expects him to hit with every gag. But this film reminds you how far his films have slipped behind the shotgun comedies of the Zucker brothers (David and Jerry) and Jim Abrahams, collectively and singly, who have built on Airplane! to a broad- gag frenzy. [28 July 1993, p.E2]

The plot and characters are simultaneously far-fetched and cliched, the dialogue has that jocular, slightly slower than sitcom ring, and the ending is a righteously cheesy letdown.

It's safe to say that without De Niro Analyze This and That couldn't even exist; or rather, if they did, they would be unwatchable. De Niro is that important to the mix.

The film seems more an excuse to attack a target than an exercise in solid storytelling.

Nostalgia is part of the modest charm of this disposable but inoffensive picture. Old Dogs makes old dogs out of all of us.

Hook is shot through with Big Theme, and it's splashy- looking and big of heart, as you'd figure a Steven Spielberg take on Peter Pan would be. But it's not the mega-movie that combination seemed likely to inspire, either. It isn't magic. [11 Dec. 1991, p.D1]

The bulk of Religulous is a passionate but misguided attempt by Maher to stimulate the 16 percent of the American population who deem themselves non-religious into standing up and being counted.

Evil Dead is just a well-made gross-out, and it's kind of a bummer.

One of the problems with director Mike Flanagan’s occasionally involving but ultimately dull thriller is that the whole movie hinges on a reflective piece of glass.

If you go in expecting a serious, no-nonsense chiller in the Alien vein, you'll come away disappointed. Despite its big-name cast and dead-serious tone, Species is a spiritual throwback to 1950s cheesy sci-fi flicks like It Came From Outer Space and It Conquered the World. [07 July 1995, p.4G]

The most timid in the series. There's no invention in it, no sense of discovery. Only the impressively orchestrated action sequences feel fresh.

Moore's Debbie is earnest but uninteresting, which is a problem when she is playing half of the movie's focal couple. [2 July 1986, p.D10]

The movie is practically incomprehensible.

The original rock songs on the soundtrack, which are supposed to make Lestat ''bigger than Elvis,'' are terrible -- a common challenge for movies about fictional musicians.

Nine isn't so much a movie as it is a collection of standalone musical numbers, strung together by the thinnest of plots.

A slight, not entirely engaging mystery with slight overtones about the dangers of racial profiling that, unlike "Clockers," treats its urban-plight theme as a backdrop, instead of its main subject.

Until it collapses into a pile of contrivances, Don't Say a Word makes for a serviceable, workmanlike thriller.

The whole film feels bloated, as Joffee makes his point, makes it again, and then returns to it as if for reassurance. [16 Jan 1987, p.5]

Feels more like a lecture you've already heard than a galvanizing call to action.

Despite its title, Shekhar Kapur's new film resembles tarnished copper, its dull focus more appropriate for an episode of “One Tree Hill” than a biopic of one of Britain's greatest monarchs.

Empire of the Sun seems to end a half-dozen times -- always a bad sign. Its merits notwithstanding -- and Spielberg probably can't make a bad film -- in its own way this movie is as ego-heavy and ponderous as Ishtar. It's literary, all right. Empire of the Sun is a weighty tome indeed. [11 Dec 1987, p.D1]

It looks fantastic, but it's also hard to sit through, because by that point The Bourne Legacy has repeatedly proven there are no surprises to be had here, no more fresh stories to be mined from this well. The stunts look exhausting, though. No wonder Damon bailed.

From time to time, the film is funny in a cheap sort of way. The rest of it's like the characters -- older than you'd think, older than it has to be. [28 Sep 1990, p.G5]

May not be a work of fiction but, despite its many minutes of real footage, it is far from being a documentary. Lack of truth in advertising notwithstanding, the story of this Colombian cowboy deserved to be told.

Like "An Officer and a Gentleman", Top Gun travels a cramped emotional range. The characters don't really change, but have plot devices imposed on them. Unlike its template, however, Top Gun does have a payoff: Maverick and his pals do a lot of flying, and many of the aerial scenes are impressive. [16 May 1986, p.6]

Edge of Tomorrow isn’t good, but it’s also forgivable. Just please stop the "Top Gun 2" rumors, Tom. Please.

By the end, we can guess what Newman was up to, and how warm a story he meant to make. But nothing comes together until one of the characters is written out, and by that time, it is almost always too late. [02 Mar 1984, p.D1]

It is long. Very, very long...And it feels its length, feels every bit the 190 minutes of it. This is a problem for a movie. A movie can be any length at all if its audience remains unaware of its artifice, remains suspended in time. But in The Right Stuff, we are always aware that there's a movie going on, rather than lives on a screen; by the end, there is the feeling of having been dragged through recent history, feet first. The Right Stuff is exciting from time to time; it has its jolts and its snaps and its nostalgic tweaks. But there is more to a roller coaster than a bumpy ride, and The Right Stuff does not thrill. [16 Oct 1983, p.L1]

Meg's as cute as ever, but empty Hanging Up never connects.

Aggressively bland coming-of-age story.

The movie is oddly impersonal - you remember the concept more than the story - and feels like something that was made simply for the opportunity to pair Streep and Jones for the first time.

The performances in Bandslam are uniformly strong -- good enough to make you wish this bunch of charismatic, talented kids had been given better material.

None of the three is at all frightening, and though the final tale makes use of some nifty makeup effects, they're ones we have seen many times before. [11 May 1990, p.11]

Charlie St. Cloud is primarily a vehicle to prove the actor can do more than dance and sing. It's more of a demo reel for Efron than a movie. His predominant fan base, though, won't mind a bit.

It's an obviously personal work, and that's both its primary strength and weakness: The movie has a distinct, carefully detailed sense of place and time, but it's also not as involving as Altman seems to think it is. It's thick on atmosphere, but short on plot. [16 Aug 1996, p.6G]

No more than a mild diversion. [21 March 1983, p.C6]

Fox has that same spark about him early on here, but as For Love or Money grows more and more conventional, you can see him coast right through the thing. He looks bored, and since the proceedings depend so much on him, once he checks out the movie has little to offer. [1 Oct 1993, p.G5]

The sex parts are dumb -- they could have been lifted from a 1960s beach comedy -- but when Last Resort acts as a sendup of drinks (and life) by the colored bead at Club Med, it has its amusements. [04 Jun 1986, p.D4]

Ride Along sabotages itself, although I suppose that doesn’t really matter — there are already plans in the works for Ride Along 2.

The very premise is a test of one's tolerance for the cutes. The rest of the film is merely strange. [6 Apr 1984, p.D1]

The light-hearted fun seeps out of the movie, replaced by trite interludes of coming-out angst.

The hands-down funniest elements in Dinner for Schmucks turn out to be the mice dioramas, which become increasingly clever - even touching - as the film unfolds, then laugh-out-loud hilarious over the end credits. But you know you're in trouble when the best thing in your movie is a bunch of dead rodents.