Seems to exist solely to drive this observation home in the most heavy-handed way.

In “Pinocchio,” when Geppetto wished upon a star, a hunk of wood became a real boy. Eighty-three years later, Disney’s latest animated film, called “Wish,” which is sort of about the origin of that same magical ball of gas, couldn’t be more wooden, manufactured or lifeless.

The movie's only redeeming qualities are its stars.

For John Cusack in Cell, the bad news is that his phone just ran out of juice. The good news, sort of, is that those who are on their phones were just attacked by a piercing signal that turned them into flesh-munching zombies.

Writer-director J.S. Cardone's low-budget mishmash offers precious little in the way of thrills and chills, much less coherent storytelling.

Oh no, another let's-drag-a-dead-body-to-Mexico flick?

But by the time events unfold, viewers will most likely have given up on this melodramatic.

If the makers of Trolls must keep going, I won’t be present for the next entry unless it’s “Trolls Meet Smurfs.” With chainsaws. In the Thunderdome.

“A license to kill is also a license to not kill,” M lectures his new boss in the 24th James Bond film, Spectre. Well, it’s not a license to bore as much as this bloated drag manages to do.

See it only for Paul Bettany's performance.

Things are so dull, rote and humorless that when signboards in a European scene read "Mondiale Grand Prix," I at first thought they said "Mondale Grand Prix," which sounds like an unwanted award this movie could easily win.

Marines did not play football in full anti-chemical suits in 112-degree weather; men would have been collapsing and perhaps dying because it was so hard to breathe in the gas masks. Do I quibble over details? Details are all the movie offers. There isn't a story.

Latifah, a formidable actress who's almost always better than her movies, easily dominates this hokey cross between "Glee'' and "Sister Act.''

It all leads nowhere. There are pull-the-rug-out endings, and then there are pull-the-floor-out endings. The Escapist leaves you standing on nothing, like Wile E. Coyote, wondering why you bothered to come this far.

Isn't as bad as the year's first abysmal Martian movie, "Mission to Mars," but it's pretty close.

Preying on a hurting city might be forgiven if the movie was any good. But Willis, who was once a formidable action star, is performing “Die Hard With an Ambien” as he exhibits zero emotion and mutters under his breath like an accountant who’s upset with his boss.

Ultimately, though, the lack of story and relentless suffering make Raze appealing for hard-core genre fans only.

An ugly, failed attempt to pull off a "Heathers"-style, teen-oriented black comedy.

Jobs amounts to, at best, a Cliffs Notes version of the man’s early life. If you want the real story, you’ll have to read Walter Isaacson’s fascinating 2011 biography, which would make a much better film than this one.

At some point, all this visual trickery stops being clever and devolves into flashy, vaguely silly overkill.

Worse, it’s as funny as a political science class.

For a noir, the film is way too talky and convoluted, yet for a physics lesson, it's trash.

The film is clearly an unfinished work and one that feels like a ragged assemblage of parts from at least two entirely different movies all with the same cast.

This flaccid comedy tries to spark your interest by undressing two of its four stars down to their underwear for significant periods of time. More outrageously, neither of those people is Jon Hamm.

The bloodshed is artful, at least.

Less than compelling as drama -- but boy is this an impressive collection of wildly ugly hairstyles, moustaches, clothing and "earth tone" furniture from 1983.

Running Scared has some camp value as the kind of midnight movie you can laugh at (not with), but it isn't so much imitation Tarantino as it is imitation imitation Tarantino.

A sloppy and only mildly engaging documentary.