I wouldn't have thought it was possible to make a prison picture as utterly boring as Jailbait.

Kill the Messenger tries to be the “JFK” of crack, but offers only shrill self-righteousness to answer the crazed energy of Oliver Stone’s masterpiece of deceit.

Darkness Falls was formerly known as "Tooth Fairy," but could just as well have been titled "Dumb Then Dumber" for the way its plot makes decreasing sense even by the low standards of B horror flicks.

Essentially a weird series of nonsequiturs. I'd rather be watching a sequel to the much-maligned "Little Nicky" -- a Sandler film that was at least trying to do something interesting -- than this failed experiment in fusing high and low culture.

Cheap, ignorant, tone-deaf and condescending, but what's strangest about it is that it actually thinks it's pro-soldier even as it portrays vets home on leave as foolish (Rachel McAdams), desperate (Tim Robbins) and dishonorable (Michael Pena) while playing all three situations for laughs.

A schlocky thriller choking under the weight of its own psychobabble.

A cheesy and unpleasant splatterfest.

It's hard to imagine hardened New Yorkers actually paying to see this totally uncritical, gee-whiz celebration of stock car racing, its fans and its history, breathlessly narrated by Kiefer Sutherland and perfunctorily directed by Simon Wincer.

Combining narrative heavy-handedness with an airy disdain for the details of the situation, director Julian Schnabel gives us a one-sided view of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in Miral.

Completed four years ago, Seeking Justice is dutifully directed, with an absolute minimum of thrills, by Roger Donaldson, whose credits include the terrific "No Way Out" (1987)...That film's title is a pretty good description of where Cage's career seems to be headed.

It's all so insincere, you can almost imagine the filmmakers rubbing their hands together at the prospect of ripping off the public.

The ever-excitable Martin Scorsese, who is listed as a producer and who pops up, bizarrely, to talk about how he decided to stage the last shot of "The Departed," concludes things by saying, "Cubism was not a style. It was a revolution!" Yep. And not in any way a fad.

Writer-director Kay Cannon has shattered Cinderella’s glass slipper. And we, the audience, are forced to walk across the shards barefoot.

Great actors make the craft look easy. In the Paris Hilton comedy The Hottie and the Nottie, acting looks very, very difficult.

Far too childish to intrigue adults yet too slow and dull for kids.

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

If you’re going to call your sci-fi movie Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets, you’d better be sure Valerian (Dane DeHaan) is a guy your audience can get behind. Director Luc Besson styles him as a cocky space rogue, but Valerian is weak sauce. And so is this movie.

A zero-joke romantic comedy.

A surprisingly unengaging and charmless fantasy from a director whose previous films ("Across the Universe," "Titus," "Frida") were, despite their other issues, never boring.

Basically, this is Smith and his real-life son, Jaden (both affecting ridiculous mid-Atlantic accents) talking the audience to death for something like 90 minutes before the closing credits.

It’s all as pointless as the asthma inhaler with which one character treats his advanced lung cancer.

Halfway through, the jokes stop - the laughs never began - and give way to a tiresome thriller.

Michael Brandt's soporific thriller is making a token stop in theaters before its January DVD debut. Miss it if you can.

There isn't enough revealing material in the tedious documentary Jimmy Carter Man From Plains to sustain an 800-word magazine profile, let alone a two-hour film.

Strands a good cast in a sea of stereotypes and clichés.

Scathing indictment of the tabloid media! Film at 11! That's how Crónicas sees itself, but all I could see was a scathing indictment of writer-director Sebastian Cordero's ability to put together a credible story.

A repugnant little indie black comedy, poorly acted in hideous-looking digital video, guaranteed to send audiences fleeing for the nearest shower.

Giving Mrs. Tiger Woods a run for her money as the most humiliated celebrity of the month, Russell Crowe accepts a third-banana role in the laughable weepie Tenderness.