Like most movies based on games, this film appears to have been quite literally doomed from the start.

See No Evil directed by James Watkins (“The Woman in Black”), is not that interesting. Nor is it much of a horror movie or psychological thriller, despite carrying the Blumhouse imprimatur. For more than half of its nearly two-hour length, it plays more like the James McAvoy variety hour — which can be highly enjoyable if you do not mind one actor being the entire show.

As vile, unredeeming and thoroughly unpleasant experiences go, I Spit on Your Grave at least has one thing interesting about it. It's a document of the most paranoid fantasies that urban, Northern people have about a rural Southern people.

Long before the end, audiences will stop worrying about the characters and start worrying about themselves — about when they’ll get to leave.

Eternals is like a movie about a horse race that concentrates all its attention on characters that neither own a horse nor like to gamble.

Liotta's acting can't redeem senseless violence.

Complete with cliches and culturally cringe-inducing stereotypes — poor but happy villagers, sweaty villains — Peruvians will hardly use this film in their tourist advertising.

About as close to pure mall fodder as you'll see.

All the brains, heart and courage in the world can't save a movie that doesn't have a third act.

Father-daughter relationship lacks impact.

It looks spiffy. It has an attractive cast. Marcel Zyskind's cinematography seethes and shines. And it's a crock.

Anyone who puts production gloss above performance, plot, dialogue and editing may thrill to Drawing Restraint 9.

A distasteful, overlong slog, but at least the filmmaker appears to have put everything he wanted to up on the screen.

A movie that seems to have been made by people who don’t understand the history, true nature or appeal of their iconic characters.

It shambles and ambles, seemingly without focus or pattern, from one thing to the next. Yet at the same time, it's predictable, not from moment to moment, but in its outlines.

An unbearable exercise in provocation.

To their credit, by the time the movie ends, Blunt and Johnson have made the sale. I believed them and liked seeing them together. They don’t make Jungle Cruise worth seeing or even worth tolerating. But for scattered minutes across this wasteland, they make it less painful.

Boundaries is a slog, a succession of weak and uninteresting incidents, leading to a conclusion that seems foreordained.

Until its final seconds, Seven Days in Utopia is just a piece of gee-whiz, G-rated, nicely shot evangelism outfitted as a golf movie. Then it cuts away at the pivotal moment that's normally the life's blood of inspirational sports dramas - and becomes something vastly more obnoxious.

Depictions of an aide talking about her hospital vigil and her words of comfort to a distraught Laura Bush are creepy and exploitative -- and borderline disgusting.

An annoying little film that attempts to be lascivious but is merely ludicrous.

Let us recall that the first film was, in its blithely vulgar way, hilarious. And let us demand a moratorium on coked-out-baby jokes, which seriously kill the buzz.

There's something painful about watching Scarlett Johansson, who looks as if she never had an indecisive moment in her life, struggle to seem ineffectual.

Owen is a magnetic, sensitive presence at the center of a movie that doesn't deserve him and that barely deserves to be seen.

While Kal Penn manages a decent lead performance as Taj, the writing is terrible.

The new version is a weak facsimile of an already mediocre film.

John Lennon once said, "There's a great woman behind every idiot." This time, I'm counting seven of them.

Captain Underpants is a very popular book series that doesn’t seamlessly translate to the big screen, and the filmmakers can’t solve this problem. The result is a cinematic wedgie: a little too dark, a little too nihilistic, a little too empty.