Several times during this film, you wish you were a bottle rocket so you could explode out of your seat and leave this tedious mess behind.

Crude, stupid and unfunny.

The entire film rings totally fake and the resulting dishonest sentimentality makes you fidget in your seat and count the seconds until the sweet but completely predictable ending.

It's too cryptic and unfulfilled to serve as a tool for anything beyond its own obfuscation.

Mildly satisfying.

One of those truly biodegradable experiences.

Cult shocker has been turned into throwaway megaplex fodder.

Godawful.

Like two hours of outtakes in search of a studio audience.

Grumpier Old Men certainly isn't relying on its mawkish and hokey story to put warm bodies in the seats. There's no reason to see the picture - a sequel to their 1993 hit, “Grumpy Old Men" - other than to relish the talents of these two veterans, plus Sophia Loren, a newcomer to the series.

If filmmaking has ever been less thrilling and more disengaging, I'd like to see it.

The single worst movie David Lynch never made.

Like "Rocky Horror Picture Show," Heavy Metal makes most sense as a midnight weekend feature, when many of its viewers are likely to be herbally and chemically addled. Without the help of intoxicants, Heavy Metal comes across as what it is - a wildly sophomoric and stupid cartoon celebrating gore, rape and bad music.

Most of American Psycho just sits there, looking at trouble, rather than looking for it - complacent, overjoyed in fact to exist at all.

A terribly bad movie, one of the worst of its kind in recent years.

Highfalutin swill determined to pass itself off as a jazzy caper.

If your name's on the marquee, chances are your agent's already dead.

Breaks new ground both as an abominable enterprise in guy-talk and as no-budget hackwork.

It's an experience as frustrating as watching Jeff Gordon drive a stock car through a bowl of oatmeal.

Unfortunately, the contemporary horror movie has ceased being an individual work full of surprises and fresh manifestations of the Gothic imagination - it has, instead, been reduced to the level of an inflexible, repetitious, ritualistic event.

If only director Luis Llosa and his cast could see the joke and seize upon it; instead, like its computer-morphed snake, the film doesn't have a clever bone in its body.

Overlong, naggingly pretentious, more absurd than absurdist and a cruel, cruel bore.

It is a traffic jam of broken hearts, fluxing racial identities and deplorable outfits that has everything but a salsa overhaul of "I Will Survive."

This film may set an all-time record for shortest time between the big screen and your local video store.

Another "Exorcist" bastard -- one with a chick-flick pedigree.

That Berkley cannot act is indisputable. But her dancing looks like a seizure.