Seen today, Going My Way looks and feels like a quaint, old-fashioned production that deserves to have been forgotten long ago.

Carrie is just a bad movie, with only Spacek's performance making significant portions of it watchable. And the film has not improved with age. It looks just as cheap, cheesy, and ineptly made today as it did when it was first released.

The Long Day Closes is very much the visual equivalent of a verse or a poem: beautiful images, but no narrative.

Although Drag Me to Hell mostly fails as horror, it achieves sporadic success as a comedy.

Although not without its merits, it’s far from a standout even when one considers how lackluster the current indie/art house landscape has become.

Eastern Promises is a jumbled string of mob-related clichés that mesh into something that’s derivative and at times uninteresting.

Feel-good tripe: a string of clichés lashed together by a formulaic plot that features underwritten characters and sit-com style humor.

What Linklater does exceptionally well is open the door on an era seventeen years in the past. This is 1976, from the music and cars...to the people and their attitudes. You'd have to climb into a time machine to get a better view...However, this is light entertainment -- nothing groundbreaking or even especially noteworthy.

In the end, however, it’s all a rather hollow experience (as is too often the case with existential horror).

This mean-spirited and unpleasant production is unlikely to find favor with many either inside or outside of Elvis’ fan base.

Kaufman once again reminds us that, without a Jonze or a Gondry to shape and prune the writer’s constructs, we’re destined to become stuck in a frustrating morass of eccentricity and self-indulgence.

"28 Days Later," while not terribly original, was suspenseful and involving. 28 Weeks Later is neither. The characters aren't as sympathetic or interesting.

Perhaps it's the lack of sex or perhaps it's the incessant, banal chattering of the characters, but this movie is more likely to inspire sleep than interest. Breillat has done something I never expected from her: made a boring film.

There’s still quite a bit to like here, from the strong sense of atmosphere to the layers of a Hitchcockian plot, but this is not a complete movie. And when viewers are laughing at a movie rather than with it, something has gone awry.

Bridesmaids is bipolar filmmaking at its most disconcerting, with changes in tone so abrupt that they can cause whiplash. In part because of this and in part because the writing is often lazy and self-indulgent, the movie rarely works.

Is it A Bigger Splash or A Bigger Bore? Despite a strong cast, gorgeous cinematography, and a suffocating sense of sexual tension, this movie takes far too long to get off the ground.

While it’s possible to conceive a compelling story constructed out of the strands forming Joy Ride’s threadbare cloak, that narrative would require a better screenplay and a series of grounded, less ostentatious performances.

It’s a surprisingly flat bio-pic of King’s life between 1972-73 with little attempt to make Riggs into anything more than a two-dimensional caricature/foil.

This is a dull, lifeless production that will find favor only with those with an insider's perspective or who feel compelled to praise the acclaimed director's every film, no matter how out-of-touch and pretentious it may be.

Sluggish, conventional, and almost completely lacking in energy.

This new interpretation does few things better than the original, and many things worse.

A mostly failed attempt to merge sci-fi with satire, Mickey 17 suffers from a fragmented narrative and a scenery-chewing performance from Mark Ruffalo that belongs in a different movie (perhaps Poor Things).

Polanski abandons all attempts at subtlety. The resulting production ends up far too heavy-handed to be considered powerful drama.

With a theatrical trailer far better than the actual picture, Schroeder's film delivers little more than a healthy dose of disappointment. The picture is watchable, but nothing about it will linger, except perhaps the feeling that, with a more polished script, it might have been significantly better.

Taken as a whole, Mad Dog and Glory is a disappointingly mixed bag. What's on the screen is passably diverting, but I often felt as if I was seeing only half the movie. With this intriguing premise and cast, the film should have offered more complete entertainment.

The core problem with Girls Trip is its length. What might be a fun, frivolous affair at 90 minutes turns into an endurance contest as the clock ticks toward the two-hour mark.

As good as the lead actor is, he's not enough to save this picture from landing on the scrap-heap of uninspired, derivative, and grotesquely distasteful character studies. Ferrara is definitely no Martin Scorsese.

Ant-Man and the Wasp offers nothing close to what we have come to expect from entries into the MCU. Plodding, repetitive, replete with technobabble nonsense and lifeless action, this is easily the worst-written of any of the 20 MCU offerings and may be the worst all-around film featuring a Marvel superhero since Sony rebooted Spider-Man.

Because of the potential of the idea and Cronenberg's reputation as a film maker, it's a real disappointment to watch eXistenZ fall apart the way it does.

What "Eternal Sunshine" did with magic and whimsy, The Science of Sleep accomplishes with confusion and pretentiousness.

Despite its flashy production design and big budget, it's shallow and unsatisfying and primarily interesting for what it says about the views of society when it was made.

Relies on uncomfortable black humor and moments of sincere drama to involve viewers. But everything is encased in artifice and the movie becomes a chore to take in.

The best thing that can be said about Welcome to Me, as written by Eliot Laurence and directed by Shira Piven, is that it attempts to portray the real Borderline Personality Disorder as opposed to the Hollywood movie version of the disease. Unfortunately, that's about all it does.

From that point on, the movie becomes distressingly predictable, with nary a surprise to be found.

In his latest diatribe, Moore throws everything at the viewer including the kitchen sink and hopes something – anything – will stick. Sadly, not much does.

There are moments that sparkle, but the whole is not a worthy sum of its parts, and, while much of what Moretti does is interesting, that doesn't mean that it's enjoyable.

Jamie Foxx, compelled to take the role for personal reasons, turns in what could arguable be the best performance of a varied career. (Others might say that the distinction belongs to his work in Ray.)

Unfortunately, Never Say Never Again is a poor excuse for the veteran actor's return. The humor is over-the-top, the direction is pedestrian, and the storyline drags. Were it not for the simple pleasure of seeing Connery playing 007 one more time, this film would have been nearly unwatchable. All things considered, it's not a very good movie, but at least Connery's charisma salvages parts of it. Unfortunately, Never Say Never Again is a poor excuse for the veteran actor's return. The humor is over-the-top, the direction is pedestrian, and the storyline drags. Were it not for the simple pleasure of seeing Connery playing 007 one more time, this film would have been nearly unwatchable. All things considered, it's not a very good movie, but at least Connery's charisma salvages parts of it.

At its best, this could have been a passable distraction and at its worst, it could have been unwatchable. Barrymore manages to bring it in somewhere in between those extremes.

Just because a movie is ambitious and challenging doesn't mean it can't also be tedious and at times unbearable.

The movie doesn't offer enough to make it interesting or even diverting.

Yes, A Late Quartet is disappointing. But it's also pretty bad.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever is an overlong blockbuster in search of an editor. It’s a series of impressive action sequences without a compelling narrative to connect them. It’s a frustrating example of how financial success, not creative impetus, drives the existence of sequels, and it illustrates how unwieldy, contradictory, and overstuffed the MCU has become.

By playing things too safe, it loses the power and spontaneity that gave Creed its energy and drive.

In trying to blend a Twilight Zone-ish mystery with a more conventional approach to sorrow and death, Miele crafts a story that is too artificial to work.

Anderson’s performance is the selling point but one can rightly question whether it’s enough to bolster the malnourished narrative.

The Midwife has two things going for it: Catherine Frot and Catherine Deneuve. There’s no disputing the quality of acting in this film, at least insofar as the leads are concerned. Unfortunately, almost everything else in Martin Provost’s staid character study falls considerably short of the bar set by the two Catherines.

Cyrano is a disappointment. The set design and camera work are first rate, as are the performances of Dinklage and Bennett. It causes one to wonder whether, had the songs been excised in favor a straightforward telling, Cyrano might have played better. As it is, however, it’s merely a handsome looking period piece with too many mediocre songs and a major downer of an ending. Not exactly a great way to ring in a new year.

You laugh a few times but, in the end, you wonder why you bothered.

Carlito's Way probably should have been a taut thriller, but choices by DePalma in both presentation and editing have hamstrung it.

The Edge comes across as a parody/adventure without a clear sense of identity.

While there are a lot of similarities between Rohmer's body of work and Baumbach's latest, the most crucial aspect linking the films is a difference: Rohmer's love of conversation and languorous pace engages the intellect; Baumbach provides a good alternative to an over-the-counter sleep aid.

The movie makes a variety of changes to Jeffrey’s story to make it more cinematic, but without the kind of narrative reworking needed to streamline the material, the result feels unfocused and shapeless.

For me, this is as deflating a movie as I have seen all year. Not the worst, to be sure, but a project so utterly unnecessary that it made me want to gnash my teeth in frustration.

Anyone approaching it today will find it horribly dated, badly produced, and filled with uninspired musical numbers and over-the-top performances. This is the kind of movie that turns off children of today's generation from titles made during the early talkie era.

Pitch Perfect looks, sounds, and feels like pretty much every other movie that features a singing or dancing competition.

Genre fans may perceive it as good enough to scratch an itch but no matter how well it eventually incorporates the various Pride & Prejudice tropes, it’s hard to see this as more than obligatory and unnecessary.

This isn’t a good movie in the conventional sense of the word but it may hit the sweet spot for those who have declared their affection for the slacker musicians originated by Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter more than 30 years ago.

Director Todd Haynes' (Safe) much-anticipated look at the "glam rock" scene of two decades ago, is like a jigsaw puzzle with half of the pieces missing.

Made well, this sort of material has the potential for a deliciously lurid two hours. But Feig's lack of aptitude with the material results in a cheap and artificial product, never really drawing the viewer into its web and spinning an overlong yarn that fails to embrace an identity.

The screenplay stretches the viewer's credulity far beyond the breaking point, asking us to accept dozens of absurd contrivances and coincidences.

Simply isn't a very good motion picture.

The content is actually pretty bland -- it's not incisive, it's not daring, it's not uproarious, and it's not very good.

Despite its name, Beautiful Girls is actually about a group of irritating, twenty-something males whose adolescent attitudes have remained with them well into adulthood.

In a way, it’s almost worth recommending Men for the first 70 minutes. At that point, a quick exit would preserve the illusion that this is some sort of modern horror classic. For those who stick around, however, the final assessment isn’t likely to be nearly as favorable.

The opening sequence/prologue is gripping but that’s the only aspect of Twisters that works on its intended level. I was not blown away.

Beneath its aw-shucks, wants-to-be-liked exterior, this is a bankrupt motion picture. It's cloying, artificial, and not the least bit romantic.

Written without much concern for logic and coherence, the movie wavers between being a drama and a thriller and, as is too often the case in situations like these, doesn’t work as either.

In a streaming series spread out over four or six hours, this might have offered compelling content (and certainly would have seemed less rushed) but, in its current format, it’s more frustrating than satisfying and the facile ending doesn’t hit the right spot.

Unfortunately, for all its button-pushing, the movie's biggest offense is that it is often tedious and meandering and it takes at least 30 minutes too long to cross the finish line.

Moody and atmospheric -- a study in tone over plot and pacing over characterization. Unfortunately, in devoting all of their efforts towards the film's look and feel, co-creators Mark and Michael Polish have crafted a motion picture that is static, occasionally opaque, and, worst of all, boring.

The Pursuit of Happyness is long, dull, and depressing.

Aside from some cosmetic changes, little of what this Fright Night offers elevates it above the classification of "unnecessary."

What potentially could have been the greatest asset possessed by Che - its unapologetic length - turns into its greatest detriment.

The movie's central flaw: it's not funny enough to be worth the price of admission.

Pretty pictures - thats what The Fall has to offer.

The Beach House is a middling horror film with aspirations of recalling The Fog or The Mist but lacking the screenplay to come close to either.

After a promising beginning, this movie crashes and burns.

As disaster movies go, Greenland is neither exceptionally good nor exceptionally bad.

It's a muddled, meandering affair without a thesis or a point to prove.

A major misstep and a disappointment of significant proportions. It may not be a failure for Eastwood the actor, but it's a big one for Eastwood the director.

Although Shortbus doesn't work as porn (and I don't believe it's intended to), it also doesn't work as a serious drama. The storyline is juvenile and the characters remain poorly developed and incomplete.

While the idea sounds fertile, the execution is uneven, and the comedy sporadic at best.

It's a cobbled together mess of clichés that fails to surprise at any of its turns.

The problem is, the characters don't grab me, and the story meanders too much.

While there's no denying that young actress Lindsay Lohan has spunk, she's not terribly effective in the dual role. Her performance is awkward and unsubtle -- she relies on an unconvincing British accent to cue us in to which girl she's playing at any given moment.

Disappointing, but barely watchable.

A lot of what's intended to be funny falls flat, in part because it's too obvious and in part because director Steve Pink is clumsy when it comes to comedic timing.

Although there are occasions when individual set pieces are effective (such as a short bit involving a locked bathroom door), the film as a whole seems more like a series of missed opportunities than a “return to form” for director M. Night Shyamalan, who continues to trade on a name he made two decades ago.

There's a fine line between wit and absurdity, and this particular movie too often falls on the wrong side.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is harmless enough, although it exists more as an afterthought than a legitimate continuation of a story that was fully told twenty years ago after the first 105 minutes.

From the poor set design to the mediocre acting to the paint-by-numbers screenplay, this is TV fare at best.

There's enough in the film to assemble an intriguing two-minute trailer. Unfortunately, the movie has an additional 92 minutes to fill and that's not something it's able to do with much success. The problems with Oh, Hi! relate not to its conception but its execution.

An inelegant melding of a bland origin story with a generic heist tale, Solo never generates sufficient energy or interest to elevate it above the level of a failed curiosity.

This is bad melodrama, complete with hammy acting and purple prose, and far too long to be even passingly entertaining. It's soap opera quality, from beginning to sensationalistic end.

It has impeccable production values but feels like a "Masterpiece Theater" production of a Harlequin romance novel.

Robert Duvall does far from his best job here. His is basically a "mail it in" performance, but, considering the script he's working from, it's no wonder. Something to Talk About is weary -- every ounce of energy and originality has long since been wrung out of this formula, and the "twist" of having the leads already married doesn't do much to spice up things. Ultimately, this "something" turns out to be nothing much at all.

I can recognize when a movie has been made for the sole purpose of generating a few cheap bucks, and that's exactly the case with The Rugrats Movie, an embarrassingly juvenile production that would seem more at home in the midst of Saturday morning cartoons than on a big screen.