Merely a watery, poorly directed update of "Clueless."

The film is conventional in style and is likely to mean more to the sadly forgotten musician's fans than to others.

Science fiction movies don't come much more ponderous than the beautifully filmed Never Let Me Go, which reduces the debate over genetic engineering to a mild, moist romantic soap opera.

Doreen's scenes are meant to highlight the cost to the people surrounding Eddie. But the many efforts to link his psyche to his war experiences never gel, and Eddie remains a wraith, his real emotions as pallid as the film's colors.

Stage Fright starts out as a funny musical mashup — “Glee” meets“Friday the 13th” — but winds up indulging slasher-flick clichés instead of spoofing them.

Pretty but tedious Euro-pap at its most self-indulgent.

The real thrills consist of one monologue brilliantly delivered by Manuel Tadros as a bar owner, and most of Gabriel Yared’s old-school orchestral score.

Kids should see Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties. It'll help prepare them for a lifetime of mediocre entertainment ahead.

The feel-bad movie of the holiday season, Spike Lee’s often-repellent Americanized reimagining of Korean director Chan-Wook Park’s twisty 2004 revenge thriller Oldboy is relentlessly gruesome, self-consciously shocking and pretty much pointless.

Armie Hammer has given several of the worst performances in recent years — see, or rather don’t, “Mirror Mirror” and “J. Edgar.” The big surprise in The Man from U.N.C.L.E is that Henry Cavill is even worse.

A dismal, low-energy affair.

There are some bright one-liners in the beginning, but the comedy/drama mix is an uneasy one, especially considering the shabby way the film treats McKenna, as a tart who’s just there to improve some yuppie sex lives.

A movie steeped in sin that squats awkwardly in a cinematic purgatory between tawdry and talky.

Next, which makes "National Treasure" look like a model of narrative logic, is almost beyond criticism.

Jeremy Piven's infamous "sushi defense" for skipping out on a Broadway role is easier to swallow than his performance as a scuzzy auto liquidator who sees the light in The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard.

Can that achingly abstract thing called love be captured in a beaker or dissected like a frog splayed on a slab? That's the belabored premise of this dorky, clinically structured romance cooked up in the Sundance Institute's screenwriter and filmmaker labs.

It's the audience that gets punk'd in this crass and sloppy comic recycling.

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.

There is hardly a moment during this overlong, stunningly smug exercise in moral self-satisfaction when you actually care about a character, real or invented.

The year's most beautiful movie -- and surely one of the dullest.

It's not much fun to watch people go to raves. And it's even less fun to listen to people talk about how much fun it is to go to raves.

The shallow, derivative and contrived British heist thriller Wasteland lives down to its unfortunate name.

Bel Ami is handsome enough, although the directorial skill runs mostly to careful framing of magnificent bosoms, Pattinson's included.

The movie’s strength is, surprisingly, the narration, spoken with gentle gravity by Moni Moshonov.

Sir, no, sir.

Lucky “Day Shift” has an Oscar winner in Foxx, who’s appealingly heroic, and gags about a burning sensation on characters’ privates.

Most of this film is humorless and with not so much of a score as a subwoofer.

If you go to the movies to ogle topless young women, Simon is definitely for you. If, on the other hand, you want something more cerebral with your $10 ticket and overpriced snacks, stay clear of this Dutch melodrama.