If the movie wasn't about an actor but instead about an insurance salesman or a plumber who looked like James Gandolfini, it might come off better. But then, who says a plumber would care either?

Kickboxer is a film for the truly undiscriminating. It exists for one reason, to display the physique and kickboxing style of Jean-Claude Van Damme. Compared to Van Damme, Sylvester Stallone is Laurence Olivier and Chuck Norris is John Malkovich. [13 Sep 1989, p.C05]

It's been fascinating to watch the "intellectual" subgenre of the serial-killer movie -- the one where poetic evil geniuses elude the cops while leaving trails of art-directed crime scenes -- run out of ideas and start feeding on itself.

The movie's message -- repression is bad, self-expression is good -- is amiable, and Shore's androgynous appearance and mannerisms are more subversive stuff than the usual fish-out-of-water formula offers. But director Steve Rash can do nothing with the feeble comedy bits. [2 July 1993, p.15]

So drippy it really should be hung out to dry.

When you have to ask yourself whether this parable is intended as comedic satire or stone-cold-serious moralizing, that's a big sign that you're watching a misfire.

The plot is simplicity itself, and Jaden's quirk-free character and bland performance don't add anything. It's actually a little sad that M. Night Shyamalan has descended to this sort of vanity-project work-for-hire, but at least he didn't insist on some absurd twist ending.

Lopez is fine, sometimes quite funny, but she's better playing the take-no-prisoners planner than a goofy, insecure dork.

Director Jay Chandrasekhar ("Super Troopers") will never be mistaken for an artist. But he's competent with crude humor and manages to balance affectionate parody and rote imitation.

For all its improbability and rigorous emotion, Desperate does have its moments of quiet suspense and tension. Cimino often gets good performances and does so here. But when it's all over, nothing really unexpected has happened, and it has taken a lot of unpleasant moments to get through the desperate hours. [11 Oct 1990, p.C09]

Basinger herself doesn't have the vibrancy of a female hero.

Exists for one purpose, and one purpose only: to further the entertainment careers of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. It's like an Elvis movie for 'tweenagers. That doesn't make the film uninteresting as a pop confection.

Forgettable teen piffle.

For all his invention, Forsyth's reach ultimately exceeds his grasp. "Local Hero," without trying so self-consciously hard, conveyed more of the ephemeral beauty of life than Being Human does.

It actually makes the 1989 version (starring Dolph Lundgren) look pretty good by comparison. Oh, yes. It's that ghastly.

January Man has some amusing moments, and Mastrantonio manages to make her character interesting, but one can't forget that this cliche-packed, improbable script came from the author of Moonstruck. [16 Jan 1989, p.C06]

A movie of utter inconsequence -- a cinematic Listerine Strip that evaporates from the brain before you even get your popcorn tub to the trash.

Charles Grodin, in his first film in a dozen years, provides some of the best moments as Sofia's dad, while Mia Farrow is kind of creepy as her mom.

Garners only a few chuckles, becoming, even in its short running time, boring.

The bi-culturalism actually is kind of fitting. Asia sends us their junk as toys. We repurpose that junk and send it back as movies. See? Recyling. Everybody wins. Except audiences.

If Schaefer's intent was to provide some sort of insight into Chapman's character, some hint of explanation for this senseless tragedy, he fails, probably because there's none to be found beyond one lonely guy's addled brain chemistry.

The film is nothing much to look at and has trouble swallowing its own clichs and implausibilities.

This one is shot, recorded and edited without so much as a pinch of craft -- it's one of the ugliest big studio films in a long while.

I was stunned to learn that "Beth Cooper" was adapted by former "Simpsons" writer Larry Doyle from his young-adult novel and directed by "Harry Potter" helmer Chris Columbus. Rarely have two seasoned Hollywood professionals produced something so painfully, amateurishly, relentlessly unfunny.

This one's painful.

If you have a low opinion of the first "Cody Banks," and your kids drag you to this one, you may be tempted to do some food-flinging of your own.

Such a staggering, start-to-finish disaster that you don't know how to begin detailing its outrages and failings.

I'm pleased to report the new Land of the Lost movie keenly understands that what was once scary is now ridiculous.