Hot Rod started to go wrong at about the time someone in casting said, "You know what? I'll bet America's just about ready for the comedy stylings of Sissy Spacek."

There's little action in this snail-paced bore, you'll need a high-powered magnifying glass to spot the comedy and the "buddies" have about as much chemistry as a pair of wet socks.

Imagine “Moby-Dick” rewritten in crayon, and you’ll get the idea.

Disliking this film feels churlish, like rooting for the Yankees to crush the Little League champs. But amiability, and the natural affinity most people have for David over Goliath, can't substitute for skill and imagination.

The sort of lowbrow sports comedy best enjoyed on a 50-inch screen with a six-pack, a bucket of wings and a fast-forward button.

Vanessa Redgrave spends Evening dying, and so does Evening.

While that winding, buzzword-filled title sounds like a cheap-o parody of a science-fiction epic, this is about as unfunny and unadventurous a movie as you could possibly imagine.

As might be obvious, I’m not a gamer, so perhaps all of this will be thrilling for fans who’ve played it. The rest of us, I imagine, may come out of this film invigorated with a creed of our own: Avoid movies based on video games.

Marlene Rhein has directed 40 music videos, including ones for Tupac Shakur and Amy Winehouse. Judging by this, her feature debut, she should stick with the music.

Even with a title this generic, there’s less to Murder Mystery than meets the eye.

A labored romantic farce whose only asset is Carlos Leon, best known as the father of Madonna's daughter Lourdes.

Burger’s half-assed attempt at an updated Lord of the Flies makes you long for a good old-fashioned school bus and a pig’s head on a stick.

A wink of self-awareness might have made this a guilty pleasure; instead it's a howler along the lines of this fall's "Law Abiding Citizen."

Utterly predictable and full of trite dialogue.

Ineptly written and directed, the nihilistic The Son of No One flaunts an attitude best summed up by a cynical Pacino -- "A man has to live with s--t.'' Maybe so, Al, but audiences have the option of skipping this bomb.

Mostly unfunny, extremely silly pingpong comedy.

Dom DeLuise, as a fruitcake director, and John Waters fave Mink Stole, as Robin's Jewish mother, spice things up, but not enough to make Girl Play worthwhile.

A flaccidly pretentious and snooze-inducing trilogy of allegedly racy tales.

The autobiographical script meanders and the acting never solidifies. Besides, the leads look too old to be in high school - maybe even college.

The considerable comic talents of Alison Brie (“Community”) are squandered by this exhaustingly quirky indie romance.

The story is so contrived and the dialogue so stilted that no amount of talent could save Exist.

To describe Love, Honor and Obey as a cross between "Duets" and "Snatch" doesn't begin to suggest how desperately unfunny this musical gangster comedy is.

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

The MPAA's rating explanation for this PG-13-rated snoozer misleadingly claims it contains "intense sequences of terror/violence"; it would be more accurate to state that Boogeyman contains "virtually every horror-movie cliché of the past 30 years."

Tucker's message is sometimes on target, even if his film isn't.

Remember how "Double Indemnity" featured smart criminals and a smarter investigator? The indie film If I Didn't Care, with its dumb criminals and dumb cops, is a sort of "Double Stupidity."

A self-serving remark on the part of the filmmakers, who place only the tiniest fig leaf of a story on a panoramic canvas of the gory, gross and repellent.

More "it stinks" than *NSYNC.