For the most part Blame It on Rio is witless, predictable and bland, despite Donen's fascination with the topless-beach scene (his camera combs the shore for breasts with the unsubtle fervor of a pig rooting for truffles). [18 Feb 1984, p.D7]

With it's buxom, raven-haired star, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark skips a chance to spoof B-movies and instead shatters the all-time record for breast jokes in one movie. There's at least one every three minutes, and a tassel- twirling ending that stretches the limits of this PG-13 picture. But the real immorality here is that a quirky character -- yes, Elvira has her moments -- is played like an unfunny bimbo with one-liners that die quick deaths. [04 Oct 1988, p.C4]

Sitting through Little Fockers is a soul-sucking, dispiriting experience.

There isn’t a moment of spontaneous fun or humor in this long, turgid movie, the latest let-down for rabid DC Comics fans who’ve been waiting for someone to pick up the baton Christopher Nolan left behind and do this universe justice. With “Suicide Squad,” the long wait continues.

For a movie that's all about camouflage, this sketch comedy epilogue turns out to be its most creative disguise: a thin coating of humor slapped on an otherwise ponderous film.

Who writes this stuff, anyway? Does this not sound like utter gibberish? Surely, this film did not actually get made, did it? Yes, it did. I have seen it. But you, oh, fortunate one, don't have to. Consider yourself lucky.

Return to the Blue Lagoon? Why, exactly, would anyone want to? [05 Aug 1991, p.C3]

Every summer movie season usually has at least one spectacular, disastrous flame-out, and although the dog days of August still loom, I doubt there will come a big-budget blockbuster worse than Cowboys and Aliens.

The problem with Revolver is that it is Ritchie's first attempt at a ''serious'' look at the underworld, but the result is so pretentious and muddled it's almost a little embarrassing.

So needlessly convoluted, so crammed with subplots within subplots, it simply forgets about its gangland "Romeo & Juliet" premise.

Skip the movie and pick up the videos at Toys R Us.

Honkytonk Man is Clint Eastwood's long, long ramble through the American Southwest in search of period, in search of character, in search of self-control. As a director, at least, he never finds the latter -- among the many things wrong with his latest film is that he apparently could not bring himself to slice away any of the flab. [22 Dec 1982, p.D18]

How to quadruple your fun: stay home. [17 July 1996, p.2D]

Berliner deserves something better, as do all the actors -- even Moore, who's starting to look very interesting and European.

Lands with a thud right from its painfully unfunny prologue and maintains its plodding, exasperating course straight through to its car-chase-and-shootout finale.

The more Shrink tries to get you invested in the emotional turmoil of its characters, the more you want to reach into the screen and shake them and tell them to get over themselves.

After a while, hearing Martin say ''Zee area eez zecure!'' doesn't cut it any longer, and that's pretty much all The Pink Panther has to offer.

Footloose is for an audience that wants something easy to think about, a conflict in which the two sides are easy to distinguish and an "enemy" who is easy to look down upon. It's for the folks who like to skip dinner and go right to the cream- filled finale, and though not quite evil, it's as silly as can be. [1 Mar 1984, p.D12]

Deadly dull.

On Deadly Ground has all the thrills and suspense of a rerun of Barney and Friends. [22 Feb 1994, p.D5]

Sound and image are consistently bad, and Piranha II is the first film in my experience to give screen credit (in opening and closing titles) to a man in charge of "special effects and prosthetics." It can't be an easy way to make a living.

For a B-movie, Split Second contains a surprising amount of talk -- dull talk. The film could use more action sequences; even those it does have are badly handled and unexciting. [7 May 1992, p.F8]

Too small to be a spectacle, too humorless to take seriously and too stupid to pass muster at a middle school writing workshop.

But if My Date With Drew is what passes for filmmaking these days, the movie industry is in more trouble than we thought.

Few expected Basic Instinct 2 to be very good, but no one expected it to be this boring.

Part II is even dumber than Meatballs, which was plenty dumb enough. [01 Aug 1984, p.C4]

A failure on every conceivable level -- from its trite, pedestrian dialogue to its static, torturous pacing.

The Last Song, yet another maudlin remake of a Nicholas Sparks bestseller.