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.

For Vin Diesel, starring in XXX is a wonderfully smart career move. Too bad neither "wonderful" nor "smart" are applicable adjectives to describe this film.

A feeling of hopelessness pervades Sleepwalking.

This is far from the worst horror movie I have seen. In fact, it’s not even the worst Exorcist movie. No, it’s not scary. It lacks suspense and tension. But the first hour isn’t half-bad and there are isolated moments when Green seems to be onto something.

There's not a slowly-paced scene or a dull moment to be found. If nothing else, this film won't bore the average viewer. However, when Hackers has been dissected, what's uncovered beneath the flashy skin is an old-fashioned, film-by-numbers thriller.

The length is the film's undoing. No matter how tantalizing the premise, overexposure leads inevitably to boredom.

The film has lofty goals, but comes across as leaden and pretentious. It's a character study in which the lead participant is the least interesting person in the movie.

Viggo Mortensen looks the part but never brings it home with great conviction or passion. I never believed in the character and that greatly diminished the film's ability to argue its ethical case.

Pride has little to be proud about.

The concept of conflating a heist film with a revenge thriller would seem to have a lot of promise. The problem with Wrath of Man is that, although both aspects are apparent, neither is well-crafted.

I'm sure there's an interesting story of sibling rivalry somewhere in She's the One, but Burns has cluttered it up with so much artificiality that it never gels. Who really cares whether Francis and Mickey make peace with each other, or who ends up with what girl? If these things mattered to us, She's the One would have been a success, but since they don't, it isn't. Since New York only needs one Woody Allen, maybe for his next film, Burns will try stretching his thematic and geographical boundaries. Otherwise, his promising film making career may already be in trouble.

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.

This movie is a perfect example of what's wrong with many big-budget films today: no characters, no intelligence, and, worst of all, little fun.

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

There's nothing in So I Married an Axe Murderer to recommend the film, even to die hard Saturday Night Live and Wayne's World fans. This uninspired, completely forgettable mystery satire is bursting with the brand of juvenile humor that only a select few seem to find funny. When it comes to guys named "Mike Myers", it's debatable who's less watchable: the ex-SNL actor or the mass murderer who keeps surfacing in the seemingly-endless series of Halloween films.

It's not so much a bad movie as it is a pointless one.

The end result is a meandering story featuring shallow, unconvincing characters attempting to illustrate the evils of technology in its undermining of individual liberties. The Circle offers a lot of good bullet arguments but this is a movie not a Powerpoint presentation.

If you like Alicia Silverstone, you'll probably enjoy Excess Baggage. This dubious road movie/romance/caper flick is clearly a vehicle for the spritely starlet, and her winsome charm is one of its strengths.

The Canyons is a sleazy soap opera that fails primarily because it gives us no one to care about and no reason why we should be interested that we don't care.

Fly Me to the Moon isn’t a complete failure to launch (thanks primarily to the not-inconsiderable charisma and energy Johansson brings to the production) but neither does it have the thrust to make it into orbit.

Like most unintended second installments, this one is superfluous – a remix of moments, scenes, and images from its predecessor infused with the need to make everything bigger and louder.

The result is sappy, saccharine, and predictable to the point where it's almost painful.

Nevertheless, given Washington's presence and the promise of a virtual reality action story, Virtuosity has some appeal -- provided, of course, the viewers aren't selective.

Contains multiple ax murders, lesbianism, incest, a hanging, and a storm at sea -- yet, despite all of this seemingly enticing material, it's a bore.

There are problems with De Palma's version, especially in its portrayal of the key relationship between Carrie and her mother, but it's a more engaging and insightful portrayal than Kimberly Peirce's too-slick remake.

Offers slim pickings for viewers, regardless of whether they're fans of Woody Allen or not. And I'm sure the French will love it.

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

Being fascinating and unique, two qualities unquestionably in evidence here, don’t automatically deserve praise and, because of the film’s high quotient of tediousness, I find it impossible to recommend to any but the most devoted of experimental art film lovers. It works very well, however, as a cure for insomnia.