Muddled futuristic thriller.

A movie that barely lives.

There's the world-alteringly scary possibility that (Leder) might be trying to kill us with a star-studded "After School Special."

Director Troy Miller, making his feature debut, does a decent job with schmaltzy material.

This Paramount-DreamWorks collaboration, with Stephen Spielberg credited as executive producer, is competently made, strongly focused on its characters' relationships and surprisingly light on special effects.

These pictures need a light touch and a lot of attitude, but this time you can hear heavy breathing in the background.

It's mesmerizing nonetheless for its flagrant disregard for narrative, character, pacing, performance and good lighting.

Miserable as it crawls for two eternal hours toward being "life-affirming."

Because the movie is otherwise so well made and so full of sweet emotion and "good" values, I was happy to ignore the shortcomings.

I think the script by television writer Channing Gibson (no relation) is the funniest of them all.

Too much of nothing and far from the potentially star-making material that Foxx deserves.

Watching movies like this strain to fit new technologies like VR into old genres and plot conventions, you can't help wondering whether the real artificial intelligence experiment these days isn't Hollywood itself. Plug the psychological profiles of 200 hit movies into its hive-mind, and out comes one plastic-bodied, loop-brained clone after another.

Stupid.

The closest this movie comes to delivering any titillation are a few open-shirted shots of Grammer that display major chest fur. You know you're bored when you have to devise a comparative body hair study to amuse yourself.

A movie drunk on its very existence, one that misses more frequently than it hits and couldn't care less.

It's the year's funniest, most absurd sight gag.

Has no intention of taking a more sophisticated path to make its point.

The best movie she ever directed was "This Is My Life," a biting comedy she also wrote that was soundly defeated by both critics and audiences. I think she's lost her nerve and her edge ever since.

It's a half-life better than Martin Lawrence treading similar, simpler water in "Big Momma's House."

Crude, stupid and unfunny.

Stinks from the Earth to the moon.

Perhaps a bit miscast, and with a penchant for too many double-takes, Perry nonetheless is game.

Little Nicky is but a meek gross-out cousin of "The Waterboy."

Like a guy who finally gets what he wants, you just want to go home once it's over.

The best and worst of old school -- retro but stale. Frankenheimer, along with Ben Affleck, donates what cool there is.

In order to like Striptease, you have to be a pretty serious Moore fan because although director Andrew Bergman's script (based on the book by Carl Hiaasen) has a few funny lines, this is otherwise one of the dumbest movies I've ever seen.

An amusement park special, screaming from start to finish with no brakes, no plot and no acting to speak of.

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.