A self-indulgent mess.

Nowhere near as bad as "Coneheads," but still isn't worth your time.

The artistic signature is unmistakable — 30 seconds in, you’d know you were watching a Wes Anderson movie. But Anderson’s human connection seems to have short-circuited, so that his irony now bypasses the world and becomes an ironic contemplation of his own work. This is a dead-end, and it’s just not interesting.

Hitman: Agent 47 takes an austere European aesthetic and combines it with Hollywood mindlessness, and the result is like a guilty pleasure, minus the pleasure.

These scenes of raving nonsense might have seemed radical in, say, the 1970s. Now they’re just tiresome.

A documentary that doesn’t have the stomach to tell the story of what happened on Jan. 6 explicitly, and to express the real threat to American democracy that that day represents, is of no use to anybody.

What this really is is a great deal of screaming and running from room to room, wacky chase scenes, the old bag switcheroo, dim-bulb crooks and zany antics. Everyone is working hard, but as with Sofia Vergara's costumes, there isn't enough material.

An unfunny fish-out-of-water comedy.

A dreadful exercise, with a script full of contradictions and empty gestures and a leading lady who's such a novice it hurts to watch her.

There’s more to life than just stories and really, Djinn and Alithea just need to get a life.

Gran Turismo is just the same cars, going around and around and around.

It’s rather amazing that Sophie Cookson, who has most of the screen time as young Joan, isn’t detestable in the role. It tells you that she’d be perfectly charming in another movie. Actually, Dench is more off-putting here, if only because destructive naivete is more forgivable in the young.

The Ex isn't painful, horrible or despicable, but it is an amazing mess.

The big trouble with Raising Arizona is that the Coens overdrew their wild and crazy yarn, and overdo almost every gag and gimmick. [20 Mar 1987]

If there was ever a human being who needed a visit from the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, this is the guy.

A film that looks way more fun to make than it is to watch. There’s a stubbornness to the comedic approach, mostly in its unwillingness to age since the first “Super Troopers.”

Consists of long stretches of boredom, banal dialogue and contorted metaphors, interrupted by flashes of ugliness. See it if you want to be put off of sex for a month - longer if you're older, and perhaps for years if you're very young.

Neither funny nor outrageous nor horrifying nor conventionally affecting.

Badly cast and unevenly acted, “Regretting You” features the least healthy mother-daughter relationship since 1975’s “Grey Gardens.”

It’s bland. It’s benign.

Mirthless and barely musical.

Cynical to an extreme, it doesn't illustrate its points but blasts them at us -- in italics, boldface and capital letters.

Petzold said he conceived of the film during the pandemic lockdown — that makes sense, considering the sparseness of the setting and small cast — and was inspired by the character studies of French filmmaker Éric Rohmer and Russian playwright Anton Chekhov. Unfortunately, he needed inspiration from another great artist: Christian Petzold.

Although it isn’t a top-flight horror movie — too slow for thrill-chasers, too ridiculously fictionalized for historians — the film serves as a proper 99-minute commercial for that San Jose tourist spot.

A disappointment, a precious and grotesque exercise reminiscent of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's "Delicatessen," only less amusing.

When a movie sets out to be awful and achieves its goal, does that make it a success?

The overall result of this remake is something as safe and dull as oatmeal.

probably less painful than actual childbirth, but it's still a very long 86 minutes.

This tale of tortured love between a Mormon missionary and a West Hollywood tomcat renders its gay and religious characters so stereotypical that neither lifestyle appears attractive.

Has all kinds of good intentions, but the comedy is too broad and the pacing is clumsy. And then there's the Andy Griffith sex scene.

Showcasing three individuals whose spiritual and physical journeys are both repellent and mundane, the film is just a long and pointless slog.

Somehow, the funny stuff gets sucked into a kind of black hole in the center of the satire, along with all the comic debris. What should have been a surreal flight to the planet Lucas crumbles into a harmless collection of cosmic dustballs. [24 Jun 1987, p.52]

The movie’s failure to engage is illustrated by directors Cristina Gallego and Ciro Guerra’s approach to the climactic scene. They shoot it almost entirely in long shot, as if inviting the audience not to care — or worse, as if admitting there was nothing to care about, after all.

After the first few minutes, viewers will get the feeling they just emerged from a 14-month coma. Even the non-movie jokes focus on last year's news.

A cute movie, a little too cute and a little too aware of its own cuteness.

This is the animated children's film equivalent of "Another 48 Hours."

Mitchell may be another Russ Meyer -- a dubious honor -- but he's no Tony Kushner.

Beatty's "Heaven Can Wait," released in 1978, was a comic fantasy about a near-death experience. This new version is a near-life experience.

It's great to see cherished, longtime stars in big roles to which they can bring so much spontaneity and finesse; you wish only that this movie were sturdier and had aimed higher. Judging from the bloopers that unreel during Grumpier Old Men's end credits, the cast had lots of fun making this movie--more fun, it would seem, than it is to watch.

It’s not like bad Tarantino. That would be too kind. It’s like an imitation of a bad imitation of Tarantino — violent, unfelt and witless, and straining to be funny.

It's a shame that "Confessions" doesn't aim higher because there is a great film to be made about the consumer bait-and-switch that has led so many Americans to live beyond their means.

If you don't guess the big twist in the first 30 minutes, Intruders is half of a good movie. If you do, it's about a third of a good movie. Either way, there's a whole lot of bad movie to contend with.

A film to be enjoyed only by science-fiction movie completists and middle school boys with extreme cases of attention deficit disorder.

Ultimately, “Mija” fails almost totally, and two main things tank it: (1) the lack of complete access to the subjects, who should have been grateful for the exposure, and (2) too much collaboration between the director and her subjects. There are documentaries and there are promotional films. A documentarian needs to keep those categories rigorously separate.

Ana de Armas is inspired and flawless as Marilyn Monroe, and yet “Blonde” is a total bomb. Intuitively, that would seem impossible, for someone to be that good in a failed picture. Here’s something else that would seem impossible: “Blonde” has seriousness of purpose and a strong director, Andrew Dominik, who clearly made the movie he wanted to make. It’s still bad.

10 stories are just way too many. Had producers cut it down to, say, the five most promising stories and fleshed them out a bit, the results might have been better. Instead, it feels just as you might be sucked into a story, it’s over.

Stone tries to make us like Alexander because he's good, when he should have made us want to watch Alexander because he's amazing.

No one is likely to claim it's a great, or even good, movie, but it does offer some guilty pleasures.

The picture itself seems stoned. Line readings and whole scenes are abandoned midstream, as if Pooh lacked the attention span to see his ideas through.

The first and most honest thing to say about Miracle at St. Anna is that it's an awful mess.

If Soderbergh's ambition was to make us feel just how dull it would be to a woods-dwelling communist guerrilla, he succeeded.

Two guys panting over the same babe leads to tedium, despite a near-record number of overheated sex scenes.

Belongs in a less ambitious category of sequels, alongside the creatively lacking “Alvin and the Chipmunks” and “Ice Age” movies.

Nothing that works here adds up to anything worth a long slog in a movie theater, watching Pattinson punching guys and knocking guns out of their hands. From start to finish, The Batman is mostly just a collection of bad ideas.

That lack of concern for the way people actually interact renders the film useless as entertainment, or as a conversion tool.

How can this movie not be fun?

It's strung together, with cliches instead of puka shells.

You've never seen a movie go from awwwww to ewwwww so fast.

It is such a soul-killing exercise in narcissism — and not a very smart thriller, either — that yeah, you can buy into the notion that Tinseltown is a total drag.

Kind of a bore.

Serenity is not just awful. It’s amazingly awful, which means that very few people will want to see it, but some probably will. People who can enjoy laughing at something made in dead earnest, who can appreciate, in a perverse way, a phenomenal, jaw-dropping mess, may find an experience close to pleasure in this strange, misbegotten, three-headed freak of a movie.

Innocuous and dull.

This is an embarrassing film. It's a sex comedy that sets itself up as a satire of middle-class mores, except there's no truth behind any of its observations. LaBute tries to be shocking and manages only to be shockingly puerile -- tasteless in a high-school-boyish sort of way.

It's all talking heads, clanging music, substandard graphics, long scans of Web-page headlines and Bowdon's heavily cadenced voiceovers.

Mostly unbearable.

A Christian-themed film about redemption with almost no redeeming qualities as entertainment.

Still, when you’re making a Christian epic and the best thing about it is the guy playing the inquisitor, you have a serious problem.

Mostly it serves as a comprehensive manual of bad places to hide from a masked killer.

Still, I’m not sure Kiarostami really intended this film to be a movie. It seems more like an art installation. Of note is the terrific sound design; the sound is credited to Ensieh Maleki, who captures full, rich, peaceful sounds of nature.

It's just too bad that almost nothing in the movie seems original. The "Thriller" video may have featured hokey dancing zombies, but at least someone was making an effort.

The prologue sets a simpleton tone that, distressingly, continues throughout.

The narrative is a mess, and the overly long action sequences are easily forgotten.

It’s bigger, vibrantly colorful and slightly more ambitious, with glimpses of an interesting movie trying to break through, but it keeps snapping back to what’s safe.

It’s a tired, inert sci-fi thriller featuring a succession of escalating action sequences that all, somehow, fail to ignite. The cliches mount.

Franco Zeffirelli's Hamlet, a senselessly adapted, ill-conceived, poorly acted mess of a film that's guaranteed to frustrate anyone who loves the play and to put everybody else to sleep. [18 Jan 1991]

Attempts to convey emotional dislocation and passion at the same time. All we get is distance.

Just plain bad.

Once the fleeting novelty wears off, what remains is a movie caught in tonal limbo. It’s too convoluted for kids, too slight for adults and too self-aware to be taken seriously.

Saint Laurent’s designs and working life take a backseat to scenes of him stuffing his face with pills, accidentally poisoning his dog and sleepwalking through sex with a variety of lovers. Two and a half hours of this. Bonello might as well have shown him sleeping eight hours or using the toilet for all that says about the man and his work.

The Chamber has nowhere to go and it goes there slowly, flirting in all directions.

A movie that features a cartoon rodent eating his brother's feces, and do you really need to know more about this update of Ross Bagdasarian's iconic musical creation?

The picture is a comedy. It's a drama. It's a romance. And it's a vampire movie -- it's definitely a vampire movie....But what it is most of all is a mess. A flat-out, flailing-in-all-directions mess. [26 Sept 1992, p.C3]

The emotional core of the movie, the relationship between Nicky and Jess, lacks impact, mostly because you can’t believe a word that they say, but also because Smith is not a strong leading man.

Instead of defining and spoofing its period, its attitude and its social barometer, Leave It to Beaver just stumbles about in a bland, irony-deprived suburbia that denies the movie any juice or bite and renders the Cleaver family even duller than it was.

Promised to be the season's thoughtful action picture, turns out to have few thoughts and no thrills.

I saw this movie in the middle of the day, having had a great night’s sleep, and I had to slap myself awake a few times.

Jaw-droppingly awful.

The film is obvious, weak and scattered and seems more like a practical joke than a work of genuine passion. It is without exaggeration one of the most blindingly boring films I've seen in years.

With words streaming out of their mouths instead of into bubbles, Ethan and his gang of past, present and future lovers sound laughingly unbelievable. They're on the road to inanity.

How can you screw up a movie that has Lady Gaga? Here’s how: Make it claustrophobic, with the first half a brutal prison picture and the second half an excruciatingly dull courtroom drama.

The Lazarus Effect is not the usual mindless thriller, but it’s as flat as an open soda from last week, with dull characters and virtually every scene taking place in a single location. It looks as if it cost about 12 bucks to make — and somebody got robbed.

Doesn't know what it wants to be: either a goofball satire or a heavy-handed social-message movie.

Every instance when Turbo: A Power Rangers Movie feels like the worst movie ever made, some goofy little screechy moment involving the villainess, Divatox, saves it. So it winds up being nearly the worst movie ever made.

It's a movie that scrounges so desperately for laughs, it features both a flatulent moose and a flatulent train.

A rollicking comedy for the gay niche that rarely rises above the level of a high school skit, Phillip J. Bartell's sequel to 2004's "Eating Out" is loaded with silliness and eye candy.

"300" was an innovative and imaginative action film, but the follow-up, 300: Rise of an Empire, is nothing but a disappointment.

A discordant comedy that gives bad taste a bad name.

Has maybe a half-dozen moderately frightening scenes.