I don’t know how many sex scenes featuring Winstone and Atwell you can handle, but the movie breaches my limit, which is a firm zero.

A wilderness survival romance that makes subzero weather, blizzards and broken limbs seem as taxing as a train delay.

I hereby award the World War II drama The Great Raid a Cement Star for faithful and distinguished service to the cause of mediocrity.

Dinklage is a terrific actor who’s always engaging to watch, and he elevates this screenplay’s plot holes and lame dialogue.

A family-friendly, Hallmark Channel-ready musical dramatic fable whose plot more closely resembles Spike Lee’s “Red Hook Summer.’’

Beyond the Ocean, which at its best is reminiscent of Jim Jarmusch's "Stranger in Paradise," doesn't integrate its two story lines in a particularly satisfying manner and the ending is somewhat abrupt.

Might have made a tolerable five-minute "mockumentary," but it's apparently meant seriously.

Stengarde gives an arresting performance as a mentally unstable woman.

Strands several generations of performers in a highly derivative script and hackneyed direction.

The journey to this foregone conclusion features several dance-offs mashing up contemporary and classical styles, which director Michael Damian (“Love By Design”) shoots with gusto. Sure, this is all a familiar tune — but it’s still catchy.

This laugh-starved twist on "Big" and the many lesser body-swapping comedies of the era is basically a lecture on sexual abstinence.

Often charming and funny, though sometimes quite gross.

Director Raymond de Felitta, who directed a little-seen gem called "Two Family House" a few years ago, gives Falk plenty of room to do his thing. There's an underlying emotional truth even in scenes that seem terribly contrived.

Shamelessly derivative, contrived and predictable, The Proposal is nonetheless a crowd-pleasing romantic comedy.

Overall, the rambling Jayne Mansfield’s Car is almost as big a wreck as its namesake.

Cohen, so good in 2015’s “Brooklyn,” is chilling as the shark-eyed Varg (who has been linked to hate crimes in France in recent years), and Culkin brings just the right amount of eye-twitch to Aarseth, who seemingly enjoyed making grandiose proclamations of “evil” and donning corpse makeup rather than actual criminal activity — yet did little to stop out-of-control followers.

It's another flick about maps, landmarks and buried treasure that makes "The Da Vinci Code" look like TOLSTOY.

Steve Taylor's direction is unexciting but solid, relying on the beauty of Portland and his spirited young cast for most of the visual interest.

The whole movie is indistinguishable rubble.

Pumped-up, dumbed-down Bond, with tattoos instead of brains.

Perfectly enjoyable swashbuckling, eye-catching entertainment.

A shipwreck. They say a dead fish stinks from the head first - but the animated shipwreck Shark Tale arrives reeking all over.

Macht is the best thing in A Love Song for Bobby Long, but his intelligent performance doesn't justify a tough, and very long, sit.

Yes, there's some spectacular footage. But there's also an awful lot of filler for a 40-minute movie.

Watching this yoga documentary mirrored how I feel about taking weekly classes: The ancient Eastern tradition is demonstrably beneficial for both mind and body, but its execution can be so boring and its teachers so painfully earnest.

Though the film, based on a Ron Rash novel, doesn’t quite deliver on all its grim portents, debut director David Burris creates a neo-Faulknerian atmosphere of indelible sin in a story that rises above cliché. As Wyle’s character puts it, “The South was never one thing.”

A dull, listless, derivative chunk of celluloid lacking any spark or even basic storytelling ability.

The thing is a virtual remake of the fusty oldie "Sweet Home Alabama," which came out back when movie scripts were written on stone tablets.