Though My Tutor contains many scenes meant to provide comic relief, there is only one that works: Hired to deflower Bobby in the early going, the local drive-in slattern is caught flagrante delicto in a well-used backseat by her fiancee, the leader of a motorcycle gang. "He hates it when I do this," she says to Bobby, and one wants to love this movie...Otherwise, alas, My Tutor is witless. It seems to take forever for Bobby to learn to conjugate, and he's pretty slow at French, too. As for the double standard, note that simple role reversal -- older man deflowering teenage girl -- produces not a softcore sex comedy, but a crime drama. And that's a different genre altogether. [23 May 1983, p.6]

The whole thing's grotesque as a gargoyle and ugly as sin.

Implausibly, irretrievably boring -- an affront to its undemanding genre. [28 March 1983, p.C6]

It's as stupid, unimaginative and cheesy as the rest of them. [16 Aug 1993, p.C2]

Insulting, witless comedy.

Two energetic and wonderfully physical comedians, each among the best of his generation. But in their movie, The Toy, they do not amount to much. Pryor seems unhappy about some of his lines and situations, and well he might. It's hard to know just what Gleason thinks, as he is able to deliver even atrocious dialogue with a misanthropic zest that is always appealing, but he has a right to be embarrassed, too. [20 Dec 1982, p.B7]

The most intriguing thing about Lost Souls is how it managed to attract so much talent.

As pathetic and unfunny as comedies get. In fine bait-and-switch fashion, you find out -- too late, of course -- that the movie revealed all its best gags in the TV ads and trailers. [12 July 1993, p.C5]

Sophomoric.

At the very least, Corman would have remembered to make the movie fun.

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 film was conceived and executed as a star vehicle. Wrong stars, wrong roles, not much happening here. And for George Harrison and his Handmade Films, the first big bust. [20 Oct 1986, p.C4]

Highbrow entertainment this isn't.

If you're going to direct a piece of crass, nonsensical junk, at least have the decency to release it straight to video, where it belongs.

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.

Among the mysteries of Hollywood life is the terribleness of Jaws sequels; they are the very worst of a bad lot. Now comes No. 4 -- Jaws the Revenge -- and it is as wretched as it is ungrammatical. [17 July 1987, p.1D]

Hamburger, like Police Academy and a dozen others before it, is essentially a basic-training sitcom with some softcore on the side. And like the films it imitates, Hamburger is an example of a perfectly good comic premise -- there's weirdness in modern food technology, bet your syntho-chicken nuggets there is -- botched by a script aimed at just that segment of the audience that is theoretically banned from attending R-rated films. [20 March 1986, p.B6]

Plentiful helpings of dreadful acting, confusing action cinematography, choppy editing and embarrassing dialogue, with the added bonus of a plot almost as dumb as that of the original film.

You should know right up front that even if you realize you're being manipulated you are probably going to weep anyway.

Putting this hackneyed villain in The Big Apple is a tantalizing concept, but Hedden rarely takes advantage of it. He deserves credit for a few shocks and some laughs from a gloom- and-doom deck swabber, but this is highly derivative stuff. And like many slash directors, he replaces suspense with short chases and violence. If audience response is a meter, Jason VIII is a dud. Save a few shrieks, the crowd fell victim to boredom. [31 July 1989, p.C5]

A feather-light musical rushed into production to capitalize on American Idol-frenzy, is nothing more than an excuse to give the two leads several musical numbers, a la those Frankie Avalon-Annette Funicello "Beach Blanket Bingo" movies, and with just about the same amount of substance, too.

Glitter, the kind of movie only 11-year-old girls who dot their i's with hearts would find bearable.

A splashy, silly movie that inexplicably stars Jeremy Irons but will delight 10-year-old boys across the realm. Regrettably, the hordes of pre-adolescent boys it would have delighted most were that age 20 years ago.

John Derek, who wrote and directed and filmed Bolero, failed to make Bo look sexy; managed, in fact, to make her look dull and foolish. [01 Sep 1984, p.B5]

A tired and unnecessary sequel.

Formidably stupid.

This would all be a lot more fun if Jason were ever in jeopardy, but since we know he can't be killed -- the best one can hope to do is bottle him up and store him, like toxic waste -- the charm of the film depends on action in the margins. Part VI, for instance, had a sense of humor; II and III had a splendid variety of weaponry. No jokes this time, however, and Jason contents himself for the most part with the ax blow, the tent-pole stab and the simple head-twist. He's old, and he has lost a step. [17 May 1988, p.B4]

Oh, yes. Reynolds is in it -- but whatever quiet comic timing he once had with DeLuise in movies like The End has been shot to hell by the confusion in the script and the havoc in the pace. They get it back again during the credits, which are accompanied by some outtakes of DeLuise and Reynolds doing their improvisational bit as DeLuise assumes the role of a human bomb. Even bad bloopers are better than this movie. [29 June 1984, p.7]