It's really just about a bunch of pathetic losers whiling away the hours with their hands jammed down their pants.

The two youngsters are not polished performers, but that's actually part of the subtle charm.

Since the thing is increasingly impatient to jump forward to the next big torture set piece, there isn't any time to establish anyone's character. Butcher shops are bloody, too, but they're not scary.

A grubby cut-price sci-fi thriller.

No amount of actorly dedication can change the pointlessness of watching unpleasant things happening to uniformly unpleasant people.

Acquires a little vigor and some fun from Tracy Morgan as a friendly drug dealer who lives with his mom.

Branagh's attempt to meld Shakespeare's densely verbal early comedy with Broadway show tunes fails, thanks to stunt casting, poor singing and dancing, and the incompatibility of the two art forms.

This incoherent screenplay seems to have been written by a roomful of the gorilla-like trolls who show up in the movie at one point.

It’s a mildly interesting thriller — Paris through the eyes of a director who doesn’t know how to make its beauty menacing.

Even the audience at whom the movie is aimed — the crowd for whom dinner and a movie means meeting up at 3 p.m. — will be bored by the stale funk coming off every scene.

Someone describes his writing as "snarky, bitter, witless." The last part pretty well sums up this movie.

It's so incoherent that at first you wonder if the reels are being shown out of order.

Despite a terrific cast and a sexy noir look to rival the two “Blade Runner” films, Jones (son of David Bowie) delivers a bit of a letdown.

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

The scene where a pilot bails out in Stealth is so over-painted with CGI that it doesn't look as real as the sequence starring Shepard that inspired it in "The Right Stuff," a movie made with model airplanes.

A murky and morbid dirge of a gay romance.

Lucas' films are like Cher's face. No matter how many times you rework the same material, it's never going to be new and fresh again. And so it is with his latest, Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

The sometimes painfully sincere and slow-moving For Greater Glory clearly aspires to be inspirational, but history won't cooperate. The Cristeros triumphed not because of their faith, but because the United States exerted diplomatic pressure to protect its oil interests in Mexico.

Gould’s lugubrious presence is always welcome, and Rue plays her lovelorn part with verve.

It’s doubtful that Scorsese will redo this new Lau thriller, which is OK because the Chinese original is all fans need.

“Venom”? More like cyanide. The latest movie off the Marvel assembly line is a disaster on every level, from the hatchet-job writing to the horrid performances. Like so many recent superhero movies, Venom has put its focus on juvenile humor instead of heart or action.

A totally ridiculous and incoherent sci-fi adventure.

Reiner, who came in to rescue this picture after the original director was fired, once gave us "When Harry Met Sally," but seeing him work now is like watching Willie Mays hobble around in a Mets uniform during that pathetic final year when he hit .211.

Argyle is a pretty pattern. “Argylle,” meanwhile, is the latest example of a pretty irritating pattern from director Matthew Vaughn.

It's a reasonably funny religious satire that takes potshots at easy targets but is quite watchable due to the participation of two Oscar winners and two Oscar nominees.

A loony con-job that comes up short on being convincing.

Dazzles the eye, numbs the mind and may cause deafness in some cases. Did I mention to bring along some Excedrin?

The characters are so cartoonish, it's hard to care on any level -- except that it wastes such talented performers.