A lazy and uninspired knock-off of the hilarious 2002 movie "Road Trip."

Screenwriter Tom Schulman, who won an Oscar for "Dead Poets Society," gives us a narrative reminiscent of a pup chasing its tail, as characters struggle to catch up with inexplicably chopping and changing motives.

This modest little film out of Africa suffers from largely rudderless direction, relying for any sense of profundity on the breathtaking beauty of Abraham Haile Biru's cinematography.

Working from an unfinished script by the late, great Krzysztof Kieslowski, Stuhr directs in a laid-back, deadpan style that, at times, recalls Fellini.

There aren't many surprises as the story unfolds in soap-opera fashion, with a happy ending for all concerned.

It's muddled and shallow and obvious. Worse, it fails as entertainment, being so ineptly directed and written it often has the feel of a high school production by kids with more money and ambition than talent.

Little more than a supersized version of the popular PBS animated series that's stopping briefly in theaters en route to its natural habitat -- video.

Mylan and Shenk provide an engrossing look at these bright, clean-cut young men and the obstacles they faced in "the land of plenty." In doing so, the filmmakers also reveal a lot about the American character.

The very effectiveness of After the Life's depiction of its main characters makes its immediate predecessor seem that much more of a waste.

The film repeatedly disappoints because Sandler and his director...have so little faith in focusing on the two characters' plight that they interrupts the romance repeatedly for vulgar, Farrelly brothers-style sexual and ethnic jokes that are so relentlessly unfunny they may not even rouse Sandler's core constituency of 12-year-old males.

Horror-movie vets Harrington ("Wrong Turn") and Sagemiller ("Soul Survivors") struggle unsuccessfully with characters who are frequently more plastic than Nikki.

If you ever wondered how robots make love, here's your chance to find out.

More than a celebration of Chaplin's art; it is a thorough examination of what made this gifted artist, the world's first true celebrity, tick.

A boring and violent French crime thriller, is the sort of routine potboiler that generally goes straight to video in this country, if it's seen at all.

Seagulls is easy to take, insightful and darkly funny. The story sometimes seems forced and the characters stereotypical, but the engaging cast and surreal shots of the rugged landscape compensate.

That it is such a powerful and indeed beautiful film is simply extraordinary.

This second installment of Lucas Belvaux's acclaimed "Trilogy" is decidedly inferior to the first: a farce that simply isn't funny.

A calculating crowd-pleaser that sometimes feels like a movie equivalent of the corporate chains it's decrying.

The family at the center of "Catch" is likable and authentic, but the seriousness of their plight sits uneasily with the shoddily assembled escapist goof it generates.

The feel-good finale -- an ending even less in doubt than that of the most predictable Hollywood fare -- is as rousing as you'd hope and the fast-paced, on-ice action is satisfyingly authentic.

A miracle of badness, a kind of art- house "Showgirls" -- which actually exceeds "Showgirls" in its self-indulgence, shallowness and sheer stupidity.

A cheerfully trashy, dead-on spoof of the B-movie genre, boasts the kind of cheese-tastic effects, overcooked dialogue and rigid performances that would make Ed Wood proud.

Vladimir Garin and Ivan Dobronravov are amazingly natural as the boys, and Konstantin Lavronenko impresses as the taciturn father.

Much more rewarding than its earnest title or its very modest production values -- it's basically an ambitious home video -- would suggest.

Variously been described as a thriller, a muckraking exposé and even a satire -- and its refusal to fit neatly into a genre is only part of why it's so utterly disturbing.

The script, attributed to Mark Schwahn, Marc Hyman and Jon Zack, is as confused as it is confusing, and the aimless direction by Brian Robbins doesn't help. It was apparently edited with a roulette wheel.

Cliched, amateurish and feeble.

Seem to have spliced together two different concepts which, on paper, may have seemed complementary but wind up giving the film a schizophrenic feel.