Moore, by the way, has never been a comic genius. The woman has played Hester Prynne — not the Laugh Factory. Still, she keeps giving the yuks the old college try. Here, the usually easeful actress cranks things up to Ludicrous Speed, and comes off like a drugged-up yogi.

Basically a much schmaltzier fantasy version of “Love Story.’’

Tries to be a gay version of "Sex and the City," which was pretty gay to begin with.

The NYU film grad steals liberally from Woody (especially "Annie Hall") - from camera placement to body language to plot twists to the whole Ingmar Bergman thing. That's not necessarily bad, if the project works. This one doesn't - it just annoys.

This fantasy flop is sunglasses-and-fake-mustache bad.

If boy bands weren't already passé, Harry and Max would finish the job.

You'd be better off renting "Eddie and the Cruisers" (1983) than slogging through this latest, far more dire recycling of the same rock clichés.

Seventh Son is not a good movie, but it’s also not a pretentious one, and I call that a fair trade.

Approach is too heavy-handed to have much effect. Rod Serling probably could have turned the premise into an enjoyable episode of "The Twilight Zone."

A cheesy, often unintentionally funny, direct-to-video-caliber knockoff of "Aliens" that couldn't be more shallow.

Aside from these curious role reversals, though, Alex Cross is a mess. Drawing on every conceivable '80s B-movie action cliché and treating its beleaguered female characters like pieces of meat (literally, in one scene of butchery), director Rob Cohen squanders a surprisingly recognizable cast on a half-baked plot adapted from James Patterson's series of novels.

With its dopey fight scenes, grimy look and goopy gore, this movie is so far from ept that inept is the wrong word. It's anti-ept.

My Way is not, as the title might suggest, a Frank Sinatra biopic. No, it's an eye-popping, empty-headed World War II epic made in South Korea.

The most distressing bad choice in CBGB, a movie entirely composed from them, is that those brilliant songs are repurposed studio recordings.

The year's dullest movie has arrived: the deeply silly Badland, which is as dead as winter and twice as long.

With its starkly contrasted visuals (fierce blacks, Clorox whites, a dash of unholy crimson), The Spirit may resemble a comic book more than any live-action film yet made, but it makes "Max Payne" look like a gleaming jewel of storytelling by comparison.

At some point, this movie must have been a screenplay. But it's an enigma why anyone would bet tens of millions of dollars that people would laugh.

In a culture where Anderson Cooper is out and gay-inclusive shows like "Modern Family" are wildly popular, a dud like Babymakers doesn't even find sticking power in its offensiveness. It just wipes off.

The good news is that The Hangover Part III isn't a rerun like the second episode. The bad news is everything else. For all the promise of mayhem and WTF moments, the final episode hits you with all the force of a warm can of O'Doul's.

An exercise in cynicism every bit as ugly as the shabby digital photography and muddy sound.

The film's staggering incompetence can be measured by the way it makes some of the most fascinating and heart-rending episodes in American history tedious.

Unfathomable balderdash.

If the once red-hot Vin Diesel's overhyped career wasn't finished off by last summer's mega flop "The Chronicles of Riddick," the alleged family comedy The Pacifier ought to do the trick.

A circle of lowlifes gradually kill one another off to no great effect in the dull and woebegone comic noir Kill Me Three Times.

Hearing snoring from behind me at a screening the other day, I looked around and noticed four people had dozed off during the prettily photographed, boring vanity project that is Oh My God?

“Gatsby” meets “Gossip Girl” in this outsider-among-the-wealthy story set, like Fitzgerald’s novel, on Long Island.

Though Wilkinson gives an atypically restrained performance that lends the movie its best moments, and Watson manages to breathe a little life into her underwritten character, the movie is hopelessly simple-minded, with corny fantasy sequences, slathered-on folksiness and a plot twist that it would take a miracle of self-delusion not to see coming.

Unintended laughs far, far outnumber intended thrills.