De Niro mostly looks miserable and very tired (a document glimpsed on-screen hilariously claims his character was born in 1970) and prattles on endlessly about forgetting the past.

Even by the extremely low standards of the genre, When in Rome gets failing marks for chemistry, credibility and even coherence.

Basically Jaws, but, you know, on land. With a bear. [29 Jun 2014, p.20]

A rote exercise in both animation and storytelling.

Stinks even by the standards of late summer movie garbage.

Dumb and unwatchable.

For a movie that so strenuously rips off “Ghostbusters” and “Men in Black,” R.I.P.D. manages to come up with fresh new ways of being absolutely terrible.

An Iranian comedian named Omad Djalili plays Picasso, that sexually combustible Spanish bull, with all the earth-shaking allure of, say, Andy Richter.

All hopes for suspense and plot twists are snuffed out about as quickly as the film's black characters.

There's a hint of nostalgia toward the end, with Jason encountering two nubile female campers in a virtual reality Camp Crystal Lake -- but it merely serves as a reminder that the franchise should have quit while it was ahead.

Hollywood movies are rarely as contemptuous of the audience as Dragonfly, with its half-witted, treacly New Age sappiness and its mechanical borrowings from other, better supernatural thrillers.

"I am surrounded by oceans of boredom," the campy Abraham complains at one point. It's a sentiment audiences are bound to share.

The noise level reminds me of Canal Street in Chinatown on a Sunday afternoon.

There’s a secret at play in After, which director Pieter Gaspersz communicates via many side-long glances. I won’t give it away, but it’s a fairly far-fetched twist that feels out of place in this realism-based drama.

Good grindhouse fun until a last act that's like a meeting of a psychoanalysts' convention.

The often difficult-to-follow plot is sort of "Traffic" for nitwits.

Isn't really a movie: It's a grab bag of mobster clichés lifted without finesse from "A Bronx Tale," "GoodFellas" and at least a score of lesser Mafia flicks.

A jaw-droppingly terrible animated musical that mismatches George Lucas’ inane story about a pair of fairy princesses to an oddball selection of the “Star Wars’’ creator’s favorite pop tunes.

Actual abduction may be preferable to the movie of the same name, but only if your kidnappers don't torture you by forcing you to watch it.

Director Mark L. Mann seems to be searching for the meaning in aimlessness, and in lowered expectations. But too often the narrative left me feeling the titular “um.”

One of those "Lifetime"-esque horror stories of evil husbands in the suburbs.

Vanity productions don't come much worse than One Third, an amateurish, dialogue-free curiosity courtesy of Yongman Kim, the founder of the Greenwich Village institution Kim's Video.

Director Annette Haywood-Carter films the proceedings with a sepia-tinged prettiness, but this is a Southern “Downton Abbey,” minus the loopy plot turns and wisecracks that make that series so addictive.

Like the lobby of a Donald Trump building, it looks ever so expensive and amazingly cheap at the same time.

Ultra-glossy weepie turns out to be something of a guilty pleasure.

Some handsome location shooting in New Orleans doesn’t make up for the Oscar winners’ relentless hamming and a plot that twists way beyond credibility.

Family Tree, which seems to have been written using indie-film Mad Libs, devolves into way too many quirky subplots.

With an emotional depth roughly equivalent to that of his lacrosse stick...