It's hard to imagine anyone having the patience to sit through this movie except perhaps a handful of 11-year old boys seeking vicarious wish fulfillment.

Most of the laughs are unintentional, but the result is absurd and laughable.

Part music video, part bizarro psychological thriller, and part David Lynch-inspired descent into existential purgatory (I kept looking for Michael J. Anderson), the film’s weirdness is sometimes extreme enough to exert an almost hypnotic attraction. But, as good as he may be on stage and in a music studio, The Weeknd (a.k.a. Abel Tesfaye) is not a good actor.

The 2011 version of Conan the Barbarian looks cheap and feels rushed. The few good elements are dwarfed by a generic, nonsensical plot and shoddy storytelling.

A slow, meandering misfire of a movie.

Watching a misfire like Thunderbirds illustrates how impressive the "Spy Kids" movies are.

Want to see a movie where almost everything takes place on a bus? Try "Speed." Jeepers Creepers 2 isn't even worth a peek.

A bad movie. No amount of perfume sprayed on talk show audiences by Madonna and her husband can eliminate the stench of failure emanating from this motion picture.

Meet Joe Black has the dubious distinction of being the longest film to date of 1998. It is also one of the most tedious and bombastic.

The level of humor is sit-com-ish at best and the film's dramatic elements are bland and uninvolving.

Redundant and unnecessary.

The comedy is embarrassingly unfunny, the attempts at drama are badly acted and sometimes cringe-worthy, and the copious amounts of blood during the fight sequences fall short of being amusing while sabotaging any hope of taking them seriously.

Fans of the original will end up doing shot-by-shot comparisons. On every level, The Omen isn't just bad filmmaking, it's bad storytelling.

A fully disengaged brain is probably the key to enjoying Final Score. Employing even basic logic engenders a recognition of how truly stupid this screenplay is, especially when it comes to the resolution.

Wild Hogs is more tired, worn out, and sagging than its protagonists - an arthritic comedy whose humor is below mediocre and whose drama is cringe-worthy.

It's hard to say what is more responsible for the film's utter failure: Hopkins direction, the editing, or the screenplay. The result is such a muddle that one assumes each aspect deserves part of the blame.

The problem with Hostel Part II is the same flaw that afflicted Hostel: no tension.

Pretentious and manipulative, the movie bludgeons viewers with its new age philosophizing and its desire to be considered meaningful.

Louder, flashier, and more hollow than anything else out there.

Narratively incoherent and full of cheese and camp, this movie makes it clear that the mummy should have remained dead and buried.

The recycling goes as deep as the dialogue, which is a mangled and blended refrain of clichés.

There are a lot of other bad things I could talk about -- the overblown score, the silly portrayal of the police, the bad dialogue, the poor lighting in almost every scene -- but I think it's pretty clear how few virtues Striking Distance has. In fact, one of the movie's few positive aspects is that it's too loud to fall asleep during, which is surely what most people would do if their attention was based on story and character.

This unexceptional and uninteresting story of a self-pitying borderline-personality teenager verges on being unwatchable as a result of McDonald's decision to bombard the audience with extraneous images in lieu of telling the story.

At best, this is a late-night time-waster to be watched on Prime Video when all better options have been exhausted.

A misfire in far too many meaningful aspects, The Book Thief is so bad that it's tough to decide whether it's better used as a sleep aid or watched while under the influence as an object of derision.

The Happening is a movie to walk out of, sleep through, or - best of all - not to bother with.

Stay away from Birth not because of what goes on (or doesn't) in a bathtub, but because this is not a very good movie.

The Thirteenth Floor shows what can happen when film makers fail to recognize that they need more than a concept to establish a full-length motion picture.

Dirty Deeds boasts a passably entertaining idea that is butchered in the telling.

It's either a failed experiment or a movie that was rushed through production so Allen could fulfill his one project-per-year commitment.

Director Sidney J. Furie, whose previous career high-point was either The Ipcress File or Lady Sings the Blues, fumbles the tone as badly as Richard Lester did in Superman III, veering drunkenly from action/adventure to comedy. Gone is the sense of naïve grandeur that made the original Superman such an endearing production.

The movie is frequently incomprehensible and, on those occasions when it makes sense, the viewer may wish it didn’t.

This is a bad film - at times it’s nigh unwatchable - but that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Sanders, however, has taken a deep dive into the world of pretentious horror, where every killing has to be as stylized as it is gory. His characters have no humanity, his romance has no sizzle, and the whole thing turns into a slog where style overwhelms substance to such a degree that there’s too little left of the latter to matter.

The Informers is nihilism for nihilism's sake; a bleak and borderline-unwatchable collage of misanthropes, self-absorbed a**holes, and pathetic weaklings as they struggle to move forward during the early 1980s in Los Angeles.

Director Rick Friedberg (who made the "bad golf" videos with Leslie Nielsen) has crafted a dreadfully unfunny comedy that takes Naked Gun-like sketches and rehashes them without a whit of style or energy.

Take away the film's attitude, and you're left with "Son of Van Helsing."

Wild Wild West isn't just a bad adaptation of a TV series; it's a bad film.

In R.I.P.D., we have a legitimate train wreck of a motion picture: a film that doesn't work on any level. It's not funny. It's not exciting. It's not engaging. It's a waste of time and money.

This is a tedious and insulting motion picture. The only ones likely to be surprised by the payoff are those who understandably dozed off fifteen minutes into the proceedings.

Movies like this usually have something interesting to say about the human condition, but not Nine Lives. It makes an insufferably obvious observation: we live boring lives, shit happens, and we die.

Undemanding movie-goers on the lookout for a movie featuring pretty people in a vapid rom-com that might find this movie to their liking. For everyone else, this is decidedly not “all that.”

The movie is a pointless retread with nothing to recommend it beyond McShane’s commanding presence.

It represents a missed opportunity on every level. As a black comedy, it fails. As a satire of the bloated wedding industry, it fails. As a drama about friendship triumphing over all, it fails.

"The Hangover" was high octane fun. "The Hangover Part II," despite its repetitive nature, was enjoyable. The Hangover Part III is some kind of hideous experiment in mass consumer torture.

Where's John McClane when you need him? If nothing else, the main character from the two Die Hard films would have livened up proceedings in this pathetically inept psychological thriller.

Orphan is being marketed as a horror movie, but that's misdirection. It's more of a standard thriller in the "evil amongst us" mode, about a group of people who inadvertently admit a psychopath into their midst.

I didn’t laugh once and the movie’s stylized and satirical tone defused any connection I might have felt for the characters. Perhaps if the proceedings hadn’t dragged on well past the two-hour mark, it wouldn’t have seemed like such a chore to sit through.

Very little of what made the written version so enjoyable has been successfully translated to the screen, and what we're left with instead is an overly-long (two hours and thirty-four minutes, to be exact), pedantic thriller.

The result is an unappealing mess, made less bearable by uniformly lackluster performances and the cheesy special effects.

Even at the attractive price of “free,” it’s not worth it because watching it requires 97 minutes and that’s not time well spent.

This is as dreadful a holiday offering as you're likely to find this year. A lump of coal would be more welcome.

Regardless of whatever ephemeral entertainment this production may offer to some, it is not by any reasonable definition a good movie. It is badly written, inexpertly directed, poorly acted, erratically paced, and features music of dubious worth.

Plagued by moralizing so strident and a style so artificial that the story never has a chance to speak to an audience.

If all you're looking for is breasts, blood, and gore, this film hits pay dirt. None of the killings are terribly inventive, but they are plentiful, and why bother being devious when axes, machetes, knives, and pointed sticks will do the job just as well?

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doesn't so much provide brainless enjoyment as it pummels the viewer into submission. "Shell-shocked" is a reasonable description of the experience.

To succeed, Deception requires viewers to be both inattentive and stupid. There's not a twist in this flimsy and moth-eaten plot that isn't both contrived and transparent and not a character who hasn't been hopelessly manipulated by the needs of the narrative.

This movie isn't bad in the way some incompetently made movies are bad; this is bad because there's much skill evident in a pointless endeavor.

Unremarkable. A more honest description would be to label it as mirthless, pointless, and banal.

Fire in the Sky is grim. I'm not sure why director Robert Lieberman chose to fashion his movie like this, but the result is distinctly unpleasant -- dark, gloomy settings with harshly disagreeable characters and no sign of anything remotely resembling comic relief.

Unimaginative horror movies are a dime a dozen, but overlong, boring, unimaginative horror movies? Those are rare. However, in Split, that’s what writer/director M. Night Shyamalan has provided the early 2017 movie-going populace.

The only thing that distinguishes Species 2 is how awful it is.

Everything about this movie feels both tired and tiring. Yes, it does a great job setting up a sense of deep unease but that quickly evaporates when it becomes apparent the movie isn’t going anywhere worthwhile or interesting, and the ending is downright silly.

With a script that waffles between being hilariously absurd and insultingly stupid, and action scenes that won't cause anyone's pulse to skip a beat, Paycheck is less appealing than a lump of coal in a Christmas stocking.

A Perfect Murder has inexplicably managed to eliminate almost everything that was worthwhile about "Dial M for Murder," leaving behind the nearly-unwatchable wreckage of a would-be '90s thriller.

From narrative to character development to staging, every frame of Mistress America drips with artifice. It's a playground for unpleasant, self-absorbed characters - an excursion into the lifestyles of people most of us would prefer to bypass. If there's an antonym for self-awareness, it applies to nearly everyone populating this misfire.

The movie starts cheating the audience early, and never lets up.

A shallow, transparent satire/social commentary, Palindromes lives and dies on a gimmick.

If I knew definitively what the plural was for the term deus ex machina, I’d apply it here. Rarely can I remember a movie filled with so many miraculous rescues and associated contrivances.

A maudlin hack-job.

For better or worse (emphasis on the latter), it was unlike anything else on the multiplex landscape. In 2017, it’s becoming difficult for Bay to distinguish his brand of brain-dead spectacle from the brain-dead spectacle of many other sequels, prequels, and remakes.

Wow. Just wow. Every year, movie theaters bring us their share of surprises – both good and bad. Suburbicon goes immediately to the front of the line of contenders for the most disappointing film of 2017.

The only worthwhile portion of Twin Dragons is the climactic action sequence, but, to get to that, it's necessary to endure more than an hour of unfunny physical comedy and excruciating verbal interaction.

My Best Friend's Girl isn't just a misfire; it's a misfire compounded by a chain of miscalculations, and it's hard to figure out who this could appeal to (except, perhaps, Dane Cook's fan club).

Unfortunately, as with too many films being made with the international market in mind, Jack Reacher: Never Go Back is a jumble of overhyped action scenes, trite dialogue, painfully bad “character development”, and awful writing.

The script isn't just "dumbed down," it's lobotomized.

The film is critic-proof and it will find an audience, but it's hard to imagine even the film's target demographic (teenage boys) being overly enthusiastic about the product. It's disposable entertainment of the worst kind.

Once again, we have a movie where the jokes are aimed at the least common denominator - meaning that to genuinely enjoy the experience of sitting through Slackers, you will need help from a controlled substance.

However, once you realize there's no "pleasure" to be had from something this wantonly dumb and idiotically constructed, all that's left is "guilt" - guilt that you actually spent money to see this.

Meg 2 (it lost the “The” somewhere along the way) is pretty awful stuff even in comparison to its predecessor.

Instead of offering engaging storytelling, it give us flashes, bangs, bad dialogue, and a mountain of fakery (a reminder that things that work in comic books don’t always translate to the silver screen). It’s sound and fury signifying nothing except to expose another chink in the once-impervious armor of the MCU.

It's a cloying, humorless motion picture whose only assets are the work of Jim Henson's Creature Shop and a couple of good one-liners by a pair of rodents.

This film makes the common mistake of showing in great detail things that would be more terrifying if left to the imagination. As a result, the only thing disturbing about The Haunting is how discouraging the end product is.

The way in which I Feel Pretty presents its message is one of the film’s biggest problems. If there’s something less subtle than a sledgehammer, it applies here.

The movie mandates complete gullibility and vacuous attention in order to work on any level.

The Punisher isn't Frank Castle; it's Jonathan Hensleigh. And the punishee is anyone sitting in the audience.

For a strangely-titled, female-oriented drama about mothers and daughters bonding, try "The Joy Luck Club" and leave Ya-Ya as a phrase uttered by one-year olds who have yet to learn how to talk.

Schumacher doesn't leave an imprint on the film -- it could be the work of any second-rate director.

Lockout is painful. Not painful in the way Uwe Boll or "Sex and the City" movies are painful. But painful enough that I kept waiting for Nicolas Cage to show up. Or Katherine Heigl. Or, god forbid, both.

Nothing short of a disaster -– easily one of the worst movies of the year.

Misses the mark.

This is a mechanical gore-fest that offers preposterous stunts in place of escalating tension and waxwork mannequins in place of marginally interesting characters.

One doesn't expect intelligent scripting or deep characterization from Roland Emmerich, but the film's lack of energy, poor special effects, and monotonous pacing lead to an inescapable conclusion: 10,000 B.C. isn't only brain-dead, it's COMPLETELY dead. It's inert and without a heartbeat.

A tedious, incoherent bore.

The movie has little to recommend it and more than a few things to encourage those who pursue quality cinema to stay away.

Even for those who have an orgasmic reaction to kaiju confrontations, far too little of the film is devoted to them and the overreliance on CGI leeches away the immediacy and awe associated with the spectacle. This isn’t as bad as the 1998 Godzilla misfire but it’s perilously close.

All-in-all, what we have here is classic Seagal. And that means, for anyone who isn't an admitted fan, an uninspired outing.

Boring and repetitive.