If you are a fan of brainless comedy that willed with bits that seque magically into some semblance of a plot…then The Goods is for you.

Takes a long time to say nothing new, which is a shame because it wastes fine performances across the board (it's a nice reminder that Farrell, can, in fact, act), and, well, a really effective score by Philip Glass.

When your movie is nothing more than a cheap and uninteresting homage, best not to call attention to that fact with a ten minute opening scene to that effect.

We don't needlessly hate on the romantic comedies, but this one takes the corniness and predictability of the genre to a whole new level.

A sadistically bland entertainment that oversells its reveals and lets its suspense drip so long that it would be nice if something (anything!) happened.

So go on, pay your ten bucks and get your hate on.

From my perspective, the film's anti-Semitism is implicit rather than programmatic, and, in the film's current form, a little sneaky.

Finally, a horror movie for the reality TV generation. Saw II feels like an episode of "Fear Factor" or "Big Brother" with Rob Zombie at the helm, and if that doesn’t scare you away from this ridiculous movie, well, feel free to indulge your questionable tastes.

Diesel valiantly but unsuccessfully tries to raise this inane bit of Mr. Mommery above its afternoon-special standing.

The leaden performances (Erik Scott Smith is the worst offender), the unlistenable musical interludes, the amateurish caricatures, and the short stories' lack of overall cohesion make this a garden party you should take a rain check on.

The dialogue itself is not interesting or funny. Ostensibly sophisticated remarks--lazy references to Freud or Dostoevsky or whatever--pack no dramatic or intellectual weight.

There is also a sense that the filmmakers weren't quite certain if they wanted to make a fun, kid-friendly adventure or a bawdy adult-skewed comedy. Walking the tightrope doesn't work.

This terminally ill, terminally awful dramedy marks a sad cinematic milestone: The Bucket List is the first film in history to feature a truly wretched Nicholson performance -- and we're not talking about the character he plays.

When the hits finally do come, they are really only capable of scaring 13-year-olds making their first trip into the horror genre.

One of those celebrations of idiocy that never seem to go out of vogue.

The pumped up sound effects play like an overplayed laugh track on a sitcom that just isn't funny and only draws more attention how ineffective the filmmaking is.

And so it goes, leaving an awful taste and the inevitable question: Jane Fonda made a comeback to do dreck like this and "Monster-in-Law?"

Thoroughly irritating little film.

A charmless, vandalized version of a classic.

Alice has all the emotional truth of an America’s Most Wanted reenactment.

For a horror movie to work, it has to be ABOUT something.

I suspect that there’s an audience for this film. I’ve heard that they like "mindless" entertainment.

A clichéd and flat out boring film that doesn’t even approach the mediocrity of director Jim Gillespie’s 1997 pic in the same genre, "I Know What You Did Last Summer."

This one's been sitting on shelves for two years -- never good news -- and you can almost see the dollar signs in the cast's eyes.

Weinstein Co. honchos Bob and Harvey are chasing some of the old "Pulp Fiction" magic--and failing not only miserably, but kind of disgustingly.

Swedish director Mikael Håfström's Derailed makes "Fatal Attraction" look positively subtle, while mustering none of the nuance or moral complexity (not to mention the sexual chemistry) of "Unfaithful."

Despite a lavish budget and one of the most expensive movie sets in the world--the island of Manhattan—they (Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen) can’t buy love, talent, or a decent script.

For a movie built around a brightly-colored, magical toy store, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is surprisingly forgettable. In fact, it's most wondrous feat is just how it manages to waste good actors and fine performances.