Results are all that matter, and the result here is that The Desolation of Smaug fails in almost every way, as a story, as an adventure, as a piece of art direction and as a visual spectacle.

A rule of thumb for characters in heist movies: If the idiots hatching the scheme swear it's "foolproof," it isn't. If they say they've got a rock-solid alibi, they don't. If they're convinced nothing could possibly go wrong, something will.

With the exception of Jessica Lange, who tears into her fairly brief role as a wealthy and wicked former movie star, everyone in Marlowe is directed as if to seem groggy with depression. It’s as if they’re all bored with the story before they tell it, and then they tell it while trying not to fall asleep.

With Hard Candy, the innocent are tortured along with the guilty -- the innocent, in this case, being the audience.

Save the price of admission to this dull retread and go have your hair done.

While the plot is worthless and the battle scenes cheap-looking and unengrossing, Wing Commander has clearly defined characters and relationships. In other words, the film's young actors have nothing interesting to say, but they say it well.

Sonatine eliminates the one virtue American action films can legitimately claim -- vitality -- and replaces it with fake- existential claptrap wrapped in an inept narrative.

Going into Sisters, the thought is, “It’s Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. How bad can it be?” Going out, the thought is, “Now we know.” It can be downright awful.

At 100 minutes, it feels about 80 minutes too long, and that’s not a good sign. Lazer Team might have made a fun and pleasant short.

If only the projectionist could be persuaded to play the first 10 minutes over and over for two hours, this might be a satisfying movie. Unfortunately, the middle and the end feature a weak lead character, choppy fight choreography, humorless dialogue and computer-generated effects that look as if they came from the "Ghostbusters II" era.

If the film has any value at all it's as an example to illustrate the point that even a mediocre horror movie requires a certain amount of inspiration. At least a sense of fun, a little life and enthusiasm. Dr. Giggles is put together strictly by the numbers. It aims low -- at the floor -- and misses. [24 Oct 1992, p.C3]

It's a bitter pill to swallow, featuring a quartet of unsympathetic characters and an unrelenting air of misanthropy.

Kin is not a snoozer, at least, and the Baker brothers are certainly not untalented, but their genre-mashing experiment doesn’t work on any emotional level.

If you’re talking about “Venom: The Last Dance,” you know you’re talking about something unimportant. If you’re writing about it, you know you’re doing something embarrassing. But what about the people who made this movie? What level of awareness do they have?

Chevy Chase continues his string of starring roles in bad movies. [16 Feb 1991, p.C3]

While the original was serious, Old Guard 2 is merely forlorn. Its story holds little interest and, to make matters worse, it doesn’t even end. Instead, it stops mid-story, promising a sequel that feels less like a promise than a threat.

Its story meanders and doesn't build, and the pace is deadly.

They take on special powers that the filmmakers are incapable of making interesting, partly because the characters are ciphers, and partly because the story is listless and uninventive.

Despite all the mayhem, “The Golden Circle” often feels slow and belabored, particularly in its middle section, when inspiration is nowhere to be found, and the chaos seems to be there just for the sake of being there.

Between “Jexi” a few weeks ago and now this, October has ended up becoming quite a great month for bad movies about scary software.

Tries screwball and gross-out comedy and fails on both counts.

A very stupid movie, with many more failed jokes than successful ones. Worse yet, much of the comedy is kind of mean.

The film doesn't make a case for Lavoe as an important artist.

The whole thing is monumentally gruesome and just as monumentally cynical, a riot of grisly cliches designed to titillate and amuse.

A film so self-centered that even the director's most dedicated stalkers might find it a bit too narcissistic.

The comedy never really takes off because it's phony.

The film is confusing and awkwardly timed, and it drags.

The film has some chuckles, if no belly laughs; it has some warmth, if no great heat.