Zhang Yimou, one of China's best-known filmmakers, deserves a great big lump of coal in his holiday stocking thanks to his ludicrous soap opera The Flowers of War.

Really, “Small Player” is a great movie until it abruptly isn’t.

It’s a harrowing tale that deserves a much better movie than this insipid junk.

Wolman gets his point across, but he does so in such a predictable, contrived and sappy manner that viewers aren't likely to care. And the final plot twist is a cop-out.

Scriptwriters behind Deliver Us From Eva obviously expended all their creative energy on the catchy title and then promptly ran out of steam.

A comedic sinkhole, a dramatic tundra.

In the mood for some dead-child entertain ment tonight? Reservation Road has what you're looking for. It's "In the Bedroom" crossed with, um, "Fever Pitch."

The Lorax is awful, like chronic disease.

For all its detailed worlds, like the Mushroom Kingdom and Jungle Kingdom, the Nintendo film is just another soulless ploy to sell us merchandise that doesn’t bother to disguise its creativity-starved greed. Mostly the movie comes off like a video game we’re unable to play.

While there are laughs, the farcical elements of The Oranges are not presented with sufficient discipline to live up to the full potential of its cast. But as a seven-year veteran of the New Jersey suburban experience, I can testify that it nails the milieu's specifics.

A study in intoxicants: drink, drugs, youth and Emily Ratajkowski. All four are potentially dangerous, yet nearly impossible to leave alone.

About as artistically profound as those framed 3-D photos of the Twin Towers emblazoned with "Never Forget'' that are still for sale in Times Square a decade after 9/11.

If it's violence ye seek, and violently confused storytelling, look ye no further.

There is one big winner in this mess, though. Congratulations, 1961's "Snow White and the Three Stooges": You're now the second-worst movie on the subject.

There is something offensively lazy about the thinness of the Jaglom's movie-industry characters, the simplistic problems they face, and the clumps of clumsy, apparently improvised dialogue they have to deliver.

Some solid performances and pretty scenery don't do much to conceal that there's a whole heap of nothing at the core of this slight coming-of-age/coming-out tale.

Much less mawkish and predictable than you might expect.

Not entirely bereft of chuckles, though it misses one comic opportunity after another (the best jokes are in the trailer).

The willfully eccentric Beyond the Sea seems to be telling us a lot more about its star and director, Kevin Spacey, than its ostensible subject.

You could make a very funny comedy about a guy who pretends to be retarded so he can win the Special Olympics, but The Ringer isn't it.

While Bigbug is characteristically eccentric, it also has the most mainstream appeal of any Jeunet film since “Amélie.”

A two-hour trailer: explosion, shape-shift, chase, wisecrack, repeat. Its most amazing trick will be how it vanishes from your memory before the seat you vacate has stopped moving.

The voice work and the overly smooth animation mostly stink.

Johnny English Reborn sounds like a reboot, but it's actually a tired recycling of something that wasn't exactly fresh to begin with.

Although the golden-hued cinematography (a filming cliché that really needs to be retired) and the sometimes slack direction by Marc Evans are minuses, Hunky Dory does deliver in the musical department.

Routine stuff, but things move quickly, with several offhand funny moments. Mos Def is hilarious in a cameo as another delivery guy.

Uncompromisingly mediocre comedy.

Scott Thomas sounds like she’s about to pull out a shiv and knife her new boss right then and there. The actress is so good, you wish she could reprise the role in a better film that actually deserves her.

The film begins at ugh and ends at dang. You don’t yell at the screen so much as yawn at it. An intriguing plot then turns into a telltale heart that doesn’t pulse.

Overall, everyone’s working far too hard at hitting their marks in this march toward a conclusion that’s both predictable and laughable.

Another ridiculous anti-American screed by the minimalist Danish director Lars von Trier, who has never set foot in this country.

It’s a “Dumb and Glummer” of a sequel that confuses the worst punchlines ever for Prosecco fizz, when the groaner jokes go down like lukewarm vodka.

It's a film noir spoof, replete with hard-boiled narration, lounge-music soundtrack and dramatic black-and-white photography.

Eric Schaeffer's rip-off -- er, homage -- to "Magnolia," is a marginally better movie than his previous self-absorbed atrocities like "My Life's in Turnaround" and "Wirey Spindell."

This franchise really belongs in the rearview mirror.

This wannabe works oh so hard to be a contemporary detective noir, with its shadows, damsel in distress and brooding narration. But it never finds the suspense or sensuality of that genre.

A flat, would-be thriller pausing briefly on its journey to video stores.

Scenes that should be grotesquely funny deliver only chuckles rather than a big payoff.

Picture "Raging Bull" with a sleazy prep from the Brooklyn hipsteropolis of Williamsburg, and you'll get the idea of The Comedy, a character study that tries to make the revolting compelling.

This rambling, overproduced, tone-deaf melange of romance, comedy and drama is only slightly more engaging than Brooks' other feature this century, the unfortunate Adam Sandler vehicle "Spanglish" (2004).

A suspenseless rehash.

This is ultimately a sunny movie full of likable characters.

Compared to another recent teen weepie, “The Fault in Our Stars,” this one comes up wanting. That film’s strong point was the delight its heroine took in detonating romantic clichés; If I Stay seems determined to keep them on life support.

How do you inject life into a film whose central character is dull, slow, stupid and grim?If you're Arnaud Desplechin, you don't.

A strong, early candidate for the worst movie of the year.

The film is ultimately a one-man show -- and when that man is the singularly crafty Depp, it's hard to look away.

A slack-paced, surprisingly bland affair, filled with jokes that sound like they should be funny but aren't.

The stars look bored out of their minds when the fourth episode of the franchise stalls between racing sequences.

Hoot peaks during its wordless opening credits sequence, which swoops delightfully around Florida scenery. That, the cute owls and the easygoing songs by Jimmy Buffett, who also plays one of Roy's teachers, are the only things worth your trouble.

The story never quite gets into the groove.

The film never pretends to be other than what it really is: soft-core porn for the ladies, diluted with an “R” rating.

The gospel according to The Gospel is this: There's a party at God's house, and you're invited.

A genially scattershot mockumentary.

For those of you who thought Al Pacino yukked it up too much as Jimmy Hoffa in “The Irishman,” get ready for this ham dinner.

Ron Howard's splendid The Da Vinci Code is the Holy Grail of summer blockbusters: a crackling, fast-moving thriller that's every bit as brainy and irresistible as Dan Brown's controversial bestseller.

Turns out to be formulaic and broad but also skillfully paced and big-hearted, with a sharp cast of comics that makes the most of a sunny script.

No phrase terrifies me more than “for the fans,” because in the movies that tends to mean “awful and incomprehensible.” And so it does for “Mortal Kombat II,” an onscreen bucket of slop that people will give a pass to because losers cheer whenever a character, such as they are, is impaled or sliced in half.

By far the best and cutest thing about How the Grinch Stole Christmas is the dog Max.

Exploitation curiosity.

Raises an interesting question. Do you clamp down on corporations in order to protect the environment or do you let them go about their business because they help feed countless families.

One of those exercises in romantic whimsy that misses its mark: It's alternately sappy and uncomfortably harsh.

Much of the movie's gentle charm comes from Mehta, the director's younger brother, making his acting debut.

The actors don't seem to have been directed at all, and the movie is very sluggishly paced.

A beautifully shot film with a funny French-twist ending.

Manages to create a creepy atmosphere, even if the plot itself is somewhat unfocused and the scares scarce.

Promoted as "the year's scariest movie," it's anything but.

Touches on issues raised in "Bad Education," but without Pedro Almodovar's flamboyant elegance.

You've seen him be funny on TV for nothing, but you'll have to shell out $10.75 to see Ray Romano unwrap a Subway sandwich.

Heavy on slapstick and may appeal to very young viewers who won't need to bother much with the subtitles.

No surprises here, though the stars make it surprisingly watchable.

Director-writer Seth Grossman provides a lazy narrative, with stereotypical characters and plot.

As for the magical-realist horns, they make a nice bad-boy look for Radcliffe and a handy plot device, but are never really explained in a satisfactory way. They have the side effect of making anyone who sees them immediately forget them — which I suspect may be the case with this movie as well.

She also doesn’t satisfy. At all. After experiencing Meg, you’ll crack open your Little Shark Book and call up Jaws.

For nearly two and a half hours, director Todd Phillips’ pathologically unnecessary movie cycles through so many potential reasons to exist. But, as “Deux” grows increasingly disturbing, repulsive and strange on the hunt, it ultimately never finds a satisfying one.

There is no way you could make this movie stupider or more pointlessly noisy than it already is.

Even at a supposed celebration, the well-bred and well-off aren't really happy at all. So the title is ironic. Thanks for that profound insight.

While the film is a modicum better than the actress’ “Falling For Christmas” last year — such a punishing world, this is — the improvement is also a knock against it. This high-fructose-corn-syrup movie remains air-headed, that’s for sure, but it’s far less campy and therefore a drag.

Needlessly violent? No, Rambo is needfully violent. Johnny R. is a man constructed of violence.

It’s a truly interesting slasher fest; in this one, the heroine gets to be both beauty and beast.

Ach, Klaus, das ist funny! But Beerfest goes on too long. Take out 20 minutes of nonfunctioning jokes, and it would have given you a comedy buzz like four tankards of Lowenbrau.

There are precious few laughs in this poorly written and directed "unromantic comedy" - the sort of dire date movie you'd take somebody to if you wanted it to be a LAST date.

A clever and big- hearted gay screwball comedy.

Despite all its problems, The Last Days on Mars serves up a deliciously shivery hypothetical: Wouldn’t we all secretly love it if the Mars rover sent back footage of a “walker” or two?

It would also help if they were given some dialogue that was actually funny, or at least more clever than the lines provided to Ashton Kutcher and Katherine Heigl in the distressingly similar "Killers" from earlier this month.

The Upside has a downside: We’ve seen it a million times before.

Even in an underwritten role, the delightful Madsen shines in her best performance since her comeback role in "Sideways."

This windy courtroom drama is punctuated by cheesy flashbacks.

This movie is never more than a one-liner away from sitcom, yet it goes down like ice cream.

I’ll give credit to Krasinski for endeavoring to deliver a new, if derivative, story. He’s not made a loathsome movie, really, but forgettable mush.

Ranges from exquisitely sensitive to crass, but overall, it's an interesting effort.

Indulges in some of the crudest Jewish stereotypes seen in a recent movie, right down to the crack about every Jewish girl having a nose job.

It's not uninteresting, but so much footage is given over to earnest discussion of sexual politics that the overall effect is like sitting through a semester's worth of transgender studies.

What's cutting- edge comedy for one generation can become generic filler for the next - that's the lesson to be learned from The In-Laws, a strenuous attempt to recycle a vastly funnier minor classic.

The film is too low-key to be the farcical rock-and-roll jape it sometimes seems to strive for, yet too lighthearted to be affecting.

The trope of horror-suffused female friendships is a fertile one, but despite a screenwriting credit from the very capable Nicole Holofcener (director of “Enough Said,” among others), Every Secret Thing comes up short.

While this slow-starting update of "Private Lives" has plenty of laughs, the incredibly expressive (and too-seldom seen) Stevenson turns Julia's romantic dilemma into something genuinely moving. She makes A Previous Engagement something special.

A sizzling soundtrack and Jennifer Lopez's best performance since "Out of Sight" go only so far in El Cantante, a downer of a musical biopic that leaves no cliché unturned.

Matthews is supposed to be the star here, but it's Englund's hilarious, over-the-top performance that keeps Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer, by director Jon Knautz, from becoming another forgettable exercise in horror.