Shoddily made, boring and, most shockingly, without a single decent scare.

Unfortunately, Impostor doesn't do much with its template, despite a remarkably strong cast.

Even the lovemaking scenes between two of Hollywood's most attractive stars -- often shot from above, like Cinemax soft porn -- are so unerotic, they make your skin crawl.

A creepy, depressing and leering "comedy" that's a virtual collection of "What were they thinking?" moments.

Directors Potelle and Rankin lack the skill to integrate the sometimes drastic shifts between comedy and drama - and the serious portions ultimately get short shrift, apparently at the behest of Miramax's marketing executives.

In execution, this clever idea is far less funny than the original, "Killers From Space," which was directed by W. Lee Wilder, the vastly less talented brother of the great Billy.

The performances are solid, but as a screenwriter, Guttenberg can't make the situation seem like more than a theatrical construct in a contemporary setting.

Nothing would help make this dud understandable.

So bad it's awful.

Fifty Shades will make you dumber.

You know you're in trouble when you're suffering a comedy shutout and the pinch-hitters you send in are Kidman and Dave Matthews.

A lame, glossy and disastrously misconceived film about three ditsy sisters dealing with the death of their horrible father.

Strong contender for the weirdest movie released this year.

A mind-numbing piece of would-be provocation from the button-pushing Harmony Korine, Trash Humpers gets no stars from me -- not because it's offensive and disgusting like his earlier "Gummo" and "Julien Donkey-Boy," but because it's about as enervating a way to waste 78 minutes as I've ever experienced.

It boggles the mind to think that Elite Squad won the top prize at the prestigious Berlin Film Festival in February.

Dieter Laser is grand as the doc, a character Christopher Walken would be comfortable doing, and Akihiro Kitamura provides laughs as the first part of the centipede.

Isn't as bad as you'd think, but this comic mash-up of "The Bourne Identity" and "Fat Albert" doesn't have much heft.

This is just a slow-moving skin flick broken up by lots of boring discussions about Cherry's future.

A satirical blast at America's gun culture. But it's so entertaining that even a die-hard NRA member might be impressed.

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.

Simply not up to the task.

Intermittently funny, often vulgar.

The Caller qualifies as something of a Holocaust movie, with flashbacks to World War II France. Guess who the two boys we see grow up to be?

Not very haunty.

The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones hopes to be the start of a new franchise for tweens and Twihards, but the twuth is this twash is anything but a twiumph.

Yet another screwed-up mess that will give audiences another excuse to shun the multiplexes this weekend.

A lot of its jokes sputter and it doesn't contain even a hint of a chick movie, but The Dukes of Hazzard has some of the same fratty energy as "Wedding Crashers."

There is virtually nothing in Mac Carter’s horror flick that deviates from the standard haunted house plot (or, in this case, plod).