Once the premise has been established, the film goes absolutely nowhere.

Lester's film is so clearly about getting even rather than about troubled youth or any other societal problem that it seems, like Death Wish II and a hundred others, a waste of that energy. [16 Nov 1982, p.B4]

So I Married an Axe Murderer is a clumsy mishmash of Saturday Night Live sketches and a rambling comic-thriller plot that wastes the promise of twisted laughs presented by its '50s B-movie title. [30 July 1993, p.G7]

Only the quips aren't funny. Not much about the script is amusing at all. Worse, the director, Herbert Ross, who once had a reputation for grace, has been growing clumsier for years and now seems to have lost his timing. [14 Sept 1993, p.E6]

The trouble starts with the script, and it doesn't end there.

Hershey isn't bad in the role of the victim; she looks durable and acts like a survivor. And Furie does throw in a couple of nifty scares between the rapes, which are gratuitous and disturbing. The rest of the film is by-the-numbers B-movie thriller. [09 Feb 1983, p.D6]

This noisy, formulaic film turns out to be immediately forgettable, except for the parts that are so ridiculous they leave you shaking your head in wonder hours later.

The best thing you can say about Just a Kiss is that it isn't every romantic comedy that throws in suicide, bondage and a plane crash in between all the bed hopping.

An homage to the original so shabbily made and so witless that we can only hope it disappears into history -- and fast. [06 Apr 1984, p.D1]

Mr. Jones is an even bigger disappointment when you consider it's directed by Mike Figgis (Internal Affairs, Liebestraum), who has shown talent for off-kilter thrillers. Saddled with a routine and unimaginative script here, he indulges in well-worn cliches, including setting his big scene between Gere and Olin against a thunderstorm (which inadvertently drowns out part of Olin's dialogue). [9 Oct 1993, p.G4]

A confused mess of music video montages drowns out the rest of the action, depicting the foursome in a variety of sexy romps that clash with the plot.

Enormous in its scope and colossal in its stupidity.

Even a supporting turn by Vincent Cassell as Otto Gross, a fellow psychiatrist, cocaine addict and unapologetic adulterer, fails to enliven the movie: A Dangerous Method makes even a cokehead hedonist boring.

The Rookie groans loudly and often under the load of its cliches. [07 Dec 1990, p.G11]

The plot, a series of missed connections, grows boring. The action scenes have no oomph. And the actors are lost. As the disheveled Dan, Cusack is charming, but he can't make this tired tourist tale go. And he can't fall down a mountain as well as Kathleen Turner. [19 May 1987, p.D5]

The tone is all over the place, which makes the movie difficult to take neither seriously nor as popcorn fluff.

Could there be a more inappropriate time to release a cheesy horror movie about evildoing in Louisiana.

Momoa, a familiar face from "Game of Thrones" to "Baywatch," has the muscles but not the imposing persona and barbaric presence that Conan requires.

The setting is no longer a summer camp, but a woodsy "confinement center" for the young and deranged; it's the kind of place in which, when a slow-witted inmate begins to taunt the guy chopping wood, one is impelled, with justification, to cover one's eyes. [3 Apr 1985, p.D7]

The worst thing about Encino Man is that it lacks the blockhead convictions of its predecessors, movies that at least hewed to the (il)logic of their heroes' know-nothingness -- reveled in that condition, in fact. In Encino Man, Link winds up teaching everyone Valuable Life Lessons, which has the unsettling effect of making the movie seem even dumber than it is. If such a thing is possible. Dude. [23 May 1992, p.E4]

Anyone who wants to enjoy himself at a good movie about a high school geek who undergoes a transformation should go see "'Spider-Man" again instead.

Where "Seven" seemed to radiate diabolical evil, Saw just radiates idiocy.

Another joyless, brain-numbing adventure through lackluster Indiana Jones territory.

Road House makes Cocktail look like a documentary. [19 May 1989, p.6]

This movie hypocritically entertains viewers by appealing to the same sadistic qualities it professes to condemn. There is real suffering going on in Latin America -- and this movie has nothing to do with it. [24 Sep 1984, p.C1]

May be among the most excruciating mainstream movies to spew forth from Hollywood in years.

An annoying, tedious little film.

Paced at the speed at which Arctic ice melts, The Dust Factory is a sluggish, heavy-handed fable overloaded with talk of paradise and the man in the moon.