Luckily the latest episode to arrive, dubbed Fifty Shades Freed, is also the last. And good thing, too, because by now we’ve definitely gone 100 shades too far.

Unfortunately, overkill is the order of the day — and it takes a toll. There are too many supporting characters, too much exposition, too many gadgets, too many “Matrix”-inspired, slow-motion fight sequences, too many plot holes instead of twists and too ham-handed a political message about the war on drugs.

If you go searching for an original idea in this tiresome thriller about a soul-sucking demon doll, you won’t find one.

The only thing worse than the dialogue is the absurd product placement.

Wish Upon is dull because it never goes far enough to truly scare anyone.

Is it so much to ask for dialogue that doesn’t make you roll your eyes throughout “F8”? Or, you know, a story that adds up?

It takes its sweet time to achieve anything beyond being a grueling snoozefest.

Filmmaker F. Javier Gutiérrez really doesn't have a lot to work with beyond a flimsy story, weak script and characters you'll have a hard time caring about.

Robert De Niro is back doing standup in The Comedian, and it's a movie made to be heckled. Full of gross jokes (and an even grosser love story), it deserves the hook — and fast.

The acting offers little relief. Fassbender gives a super serious performance in a movie that needed his natural sense of humor. Playing his Abstergo doctor, Cotillard's accent is so bizarre and disconcerting, it's impossible to believe she’s the same actress who’s been so amazing in everything else she's done. As for Jeremy Irons, who plays her scientist father, it's hard to imagine this is anything more than a payday.

Director David Hackl’s Life on the Line is supposed to be a moving story about men working electrical lines. Viewers, however, might require a high-voltage shock just to endure it.

Billy Bob Thornton's grouchy Santa is finally back, but his sequel is pretty ho-ho-horrible.

Almost Christmas is frustrating in its failure to not surpass what's expected of it. It's shallow in its emotions and misses opportunities to develop more realistic characters with more relatable feelings.

Movie fans might be better off watching a dog actually munch on another dog. Paul Schrader's latest action drama is downright awful.

This movie was made by a bunch of hired guns who had their hearts elsewhere. Masterminds does center around a heist — one committed on ticket buyers.

Let’s just say director John Moore’s new thriller I.T. should be lost in cyberspace — not filling up an hour and a half of your life.

An even bigger crime is that Blair Witch isn’t particularly scary, maybe because it’s hard to take any of it seriously when it’s just treading so much similar ground as the first movie.

While the first "Independence Day" was genuinely big, dumb fun, its sequel only manages to be a bigger, dumber bore.

Presumed to be Nicolas Refn's foray into the horror genre, but apparently, no one bothered to tell the filmmaker that.

Swiss Army Man's greatest challenge is to its audience. Just, exactly, how much will we sit still for? Endless scenes of Dano in role-playing drag, sporting a rag-mop wig and giving dating tips to a corpse? Frequent closeups of Radcliffe's furry flatulent buttocks?

This is not "Lord of the Rings." It's barely "Dungeons & Dragons."

Hugely expensive and extravagantly stupid, Alice Through the Looking Glass is just one more silly Hollywood mashup, an innocent fantasy morphed into a noisy would-be blockbuster.

The Angry Birds Movie is just fowl.

A Mother’s Day movie full of flat jokes, reheated clichés and two hours spent staring at your watch.

This Simone film hits all the wrong notes early. What is it trying to say about this enraged, iconic singer? Why does it want to say it? Since screenwriter Cynthia Mort apparently never asked those questions, director Cynthia Mort can't offer any answers.

Quick, what do you call it when a movie takes both of the year’s biggest breakout action stars and wastes them in a bad Kevin Costner movie? Criminal.

Stupid as a bag of hammers and twice as loud, Hardcore Henry sounds like the title of the worst Kissinger bio ever. Actually, it's an action movie that feels more like you are trapped in a video game. A really, really bad video game.

If they gave out badges for smutty language, this movie would have lots. There’s nothing wrong with that. But filthy doesn’t automatically equal funny.

Director Alex Proyas’ movie feels like a bad video game.

Hugh Jackman doesn't play Wolverine in Eddie the Eagle, which is too bad. The film deserves to be slashed to bits.

This isn't a movie, it's a rapsheet, a series of assaults committed against its cast and its viewers.

This movie has almost nothing redeeming. And it’s flat out gross.

Moonwalkers is supposedly a comedy. So its clever conspiracy quickly goes disastrously wrong.

Pretty as Bratt and Munn are, they're not distracting enough to cover up for the screaming Hart and grating Jeong, who seem to be in a race to see who can play a more annoying character. In the end, it's a tie — they both win.

No one has been too naughty to be subjected to this reindeer poop.

Youth is fleeting. "Youth" is not. In fact, you may feel yourself getting older just watching it.

This feels like a documentary about legal cases against TASER, not a documentary on the Taser.

This un-terrifying film tries to find an interesting twist on the classic Frankenstein tale, but horrifically fails.

Got your holiday turkey yet? Well, don't worry, Diane Keaton and John Goodman have one waiting for you at the movie theater.

So, Bobby, seriously, what the hell is happening? You got a new movie, or what you’re billing as a movie, except it's already on cable and I figure a month from now it'll be in one of those Redbox things. And it's called Heist, I guess because it wants to separate me from my money.

For a movie about purpose, Captive never finds its own.

It’s a lazy, by-the-numbers bore.

Director Khalil Sullins’ movie has its heart and brain in the right place, but its guts are a mess.

This tale of an Inuit coming to New York City to warn about the perils of climate change is like a 1970s PSA, complete with stock, one-note characters and message-y dialogue.

The Transporter Refueled should be put up on blocks.

An epic in China, it’s been trimmed here in the States. But this movie didn’t need a cut, it needed a beheading.

Hitman: Agent 47 is a by-the-numbers schlock action sequel that writes its own epitaph when a character mutters the dusty insult, “You’re dead, too. You just don’t know it yet.”

Say one thing for these killer kids: they’re creative.

Shocking. Horrific. Stunning. The plot twists in Final Girl? No, the fact that the movie itself was even made — and that Abigail Breslin is in it.

It’s slow, lethargic, utterly lacking in charm and undeserving of the Cold War setting that is its best trait.

Pike phones in a reprise of her Oscar-nominated “Gone Girl” performance, complete with brittle perfection and a loose screw. Fernandez can’t decide whether his rapist is a menacing thug or a sexy innocent. And as Miranda’s father, a bearded, hatted, suspendered Nick Nolte seems to have wandered in from the set of “Witness 2: Amish and Loving It.”

One of 2015’s dullest.

Someone forgot to put anything fantastic into Fantastic Four.

I checked my watch over and over — and I wasn’t even wearing one. The only death the movie really supplies is one from boredom.

As Corporate promotional videos go, this one snaps together right out of the box. As a movie, it can be as annoying as stepping on a stray LEGO brick with your socks off.

Any humor, though, is buried deep in bad writing. So the joke’s on us. Writer-director Mary Agnes Donoghue is surely well-intentioned, but her tin ear and very-special-episode worldview miss the mark.

Every joke is lame, every special effect unspecial.

Director Kyle Patrick Alvarez’s film underserves its cast of up-and-comers (Thomas Mann, Ezra Miller, Tye Sheridan), allows the usually solid actor Michael Angarano to go astray with a scenery-chewing role and buries Crudup in fretting and sanctity. Worse, the experiment’s inherent drama is exacted with a tin ear and a cheesy style.

It all goes nowhere slowly, with only a few visual jokes to break the monotony.

Irrational Man plays, like so much of Woody Allen’s work over the past 20 years, like a bad Woody Allen parody.

It’s a good thing writer-director Jeff Lipsky is a film distributor in real life. He’s his own best hope for getting this dreck out there.

Laughable/Bad

Sorry, but this kind of high-school horror was old when Jamie Lee Curtis was young. All the ugly, shaky, night-vision camerawork in the world will not make it seem fresh. Or remotely scary.

The brooding and emotional prickliness gets overwhelming. Kidman tries her best to flesh out her character, but writer-director Kim Farrant gives this still-undervalued actress little to do.

“Holiday” is more palatable than similar, American-bred films like “The Family Stone” or This is Where I Leave You. Still, once Connolly’s sad-eyed, hippie-ish cancer sufferer is gone, there’s little reason to keep going.

Director Benni Diez tries for schlock shocks in this giant-bug flick. Sadly, what’s left out here is the fun.

One achievement of James Cameron’s “Terminator” is that it overcame its low-rent, B-movie trappings. The great sin of “Genisys” is that it costs millions and yet isn’t worth a dime.

Corey Stoll is the only reason to sit through this muddled Jersey-set drama.

Dullness, as well as hoary preachiness, neuters the family-and-their-war-dog drama Max.

Ted 2 is the equivalent of a middle school bully. It's not as funny as it thinks it is. Its penchant for casual cruelty masks a hollow soul. And it will be totally forgotten once we move onto bigger and better things.

How did the guy who made “Gremlins” and “The Howling” direct this cheap-looking, sophomoric, unfunny dreck?

How do you make one of the decade’s most sensational crimes boring? It’s an odd trick, but director Michael Winterbottom manages it in The Face of an Angel, a stubbornly dull retelling of the famous Italian case.

The movie touts a “Presented By” credit for modern horror maven Eli Roth, but there’s none of that director’s shock or sly subversion. Don’t bother getting to know this stranger.

This Ill-Conceived fertility thriller is overwrought, underwritten and pure cynicism.

It’s a restrained performance, but director Peter Cousens should have unleashed some of the “Jerry Maguire” Oscar-winner’s energy for this solemn tale.

This mashup of a teenage assassin lark and high school misfit comedy misses the chance to add a supercool heroine to pop culture.

Dawn Patrol has a lot on its plate and manages to drop it all. The movie deals with themes of xenophobia, murder, revenge and forgiveness, and not one aspect is handled with anything approaching competence. What a dud.

San Andreas is a disaster — literally. That’s not to take a piece out of Dwayne (The Rock) Johnson. His charm and family-man-style fearlessness as the movie’s star is the only saving grace in this thuddingly repetitive, badly written crash-a-thon.

It’s easy to roll your eyes at this slapdash film-school reject — though director Leah Meyerhoff can be forgiven a bit. She’s still in film school.

Neither Scary nor eye-rollingly fun, The Human Centipede 3 (Final Sequence) is the dullest entry in an atrocious trilogy.

Diane Lane has about 15 minutes of underwritten screen time as Helen, Alice’s tart, art-teacher mother. A wooden Elizabeth Banks is the detective who cracked the original case and now heads up the new one. She thought she could handle it. She can’t.

Its creepy atmosphere aside, Maggie is a slog of the living dead.

Fashion junkies and junkie junkies are the only audiences likely to enjoy Saint Laurent.

In this dramatically disappointing comedy, Dan (Jack Black) is a loser. And not a lovable one, either.

This isn’t Bravetown. It’s Crazytown.

Hot Pursuit gets cold quickly. That’s certainly not the fault of stars Reese Witherspoon and Sofia Vergara, who work to keep this blessedly brief action-comedy shaking and cruising to an unthrilling end. The blame lies with a dopey script, director Anne Fletcher and a lazy Hollywood assumption that female buddy flicks should be as half-assed as their male counterparts.

Travolta’s face looks immobile, while Plummer and Jennifer Ehle, as Cutter’s estranged, strung-out wife, look out of place. Sheridan (“The Tree of Life”), though, does seems comfortable in a movie where the colors blur sloppily.

Somewhere amid the storytelling rubble in Little Boy there’s a decent message against racial prejudice. But it’s suffocated beneath a hokey premise and hopelessly square execution.

The former “Friends” star clearly wanted something special, but sadly the result is ... this.

James' everyman appeal is stretched to the limits here, like that polyester shirt he wears.

This film, though, lacks any spine. Director Jean-Baptiste Leonetti isn’t sure if he’s making a Hemingway-lite faceoff or a hemmed-in horror flick.

This Australian movie reminds you what can happen when directors pretend to be Quentin Tarantino, complete with snark masquerading as style, slippery timelines, blood and guts and guns everywhere.

If this is your particular poison, it won’t kill you. But anyone averse to Sparks’ sappy touch may get sick from all the bull.

Get Hard isn’t edgy enough to be offensive or witty enough to be challenging. It’s just dumb.

True, the energy level is high, and there are some pretty faces and toned bodies. But Tracers cannot live by pecs appeal alone. And pretty soon, Lautner won’t be able to, either.

The movie is played fast but lacks wit. The script, written by Kristin Gore — daughter of Al, and author of the book on which it’s based — mistakes frantic for funny.

Every scene is entwined in clunkiness.

A dark comedy that isn't funny and a marriage satire that doesn't break new ground.