Managing to make the films of Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock look like dry, scholarly treatises by comparison, Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed more than lives up to its subtitle.

Only Diaz shows spark because the actress knows how to simultaneously play nice and be a nasty character, thereby gaining audience sympathy. Everyone else hits one note, and it isn't nice.

Not only does the film stumble badly from one skit to another, the skits themselves have too much dead air.

One of the unfunniest comedies ever. Punch lines are lifeless. Characters are borderline catatonic. Running gags can't even walk.

Too much of the proceedings are silly rather than horrifying, with the nadir being the appearance of some particularly athletic Yetis who briefly pitch in to lend a hand.

This low-rent frat house comedy is at once far more vulgar and decidedly less anarchic than its obvious inspiration and should flunk out of theaters before this year's crop of freshman students even finish unpacking their bags.

Odd too, for a film that wants to correct impression anyone had as to the abilities of black U.S. soldier in combat, are the ethnic cliches about Italians and Germans, to say nothing of rednecks.

A banal revenge melodrama-cum-detective story, but fans of the video game on which it is based should not be alarmed.

Eden Lake has the trappings of a low-IQ thriller but it's really a contemptible tract feeding the prejudices of the U.K.'s rightwing tabloids that claim the country is overrun by teenagers wielding knives.

Playing somewhat like a juvenile version of "Rosemary's Baby," this inept, incoherent attempt to cash in on young girls who can't buy a ticket to the R-rated "Saw V" (or are too lazy to sneak in) will be out of theaters long before the Halloween pumpkins start to rot.

Splinter is a bad idea, borrowing body parts, as it were, from old horror flicks to genuinely unsatisfying results.

Ultimately, the film doesn't succeed in its thematic aspirations, proving yet again that great literature doesn't usually transfer successfully to the screen.

Bad enough to create one of the most joyless Christmas movies ever, but then to go for an unearned feel-good ending adds insult to injury.

Easily the worst in a trilogy that has been notable mainly for the presence of its everyman action star, Transporter 3 is a nonsensical, choppily edited bore, with awful dialogue.

The film plays like a garish melodrama that reproduces the most ham-fisted, polemical aspects of "Crash."

So unrelentingly violent that all but teen boys might as well stay home.

The film might amuse some, especially fans of Alfred Hitchcock, but is likely to annoy almost everyone else.

What finally undoes the struggle to maintain suspense is Goyer's dialogue, which is consistently hokey.

2 1/2 hours of shouting, gesticulating, pratfalls and groin kicks will leave viewers with an MSG headache.

Strictly old hat -- and a poorly assembled hat at that.

This comedy whodunit generates more laughs than its predecessor, which is to say, two or three.

Despite its high-profile cast and a sizable marketing push from distributor Summit Entertainment, audiences won't require any paranormal powers of their own to realize they've seen this one before.

The end product is surprisingly charmless -- a shrill "Devil Wears Prada"/"Bridget Jones"/"Sex and the City" knockoff that keeps threatening to fall apart at the seams.

It's like being trapped for an hour-and-a-half in a pound full of yappy puppies.

Director Andrzej Bartkowiak ("Romeo Must Die") works hard to supply the appropriate grittiness, but other than a few reasonably well-staged fight sequences, the proceedings are dull and visually uninspired. Justin Marks' solemn screenplay lacks any trace of wit.

We can be grateful to a stellar cast and some discipline on the part of Matt Aselton, a commercials director making his feature debut, that Gigantic doesn't go completely overboard. Nevertheless, the film will appeal mostly to festivals and adventurous audiences.

Lame sketch comedy, an uninspired performance from Will Ferrell and an overall failure of the imagination turn Brad Silberling's Land of the Lost into a lethargic meander through a wilderness of misfiring gags.

For those wearied by cliches about poverty, rote characterizations of minorities and shocks for their own sake, best to avoid "Cracktown."

Although the teenage audience is notoriously undiscriminating, it's hard to imagine many kids turning out for this laugh-free comedy.

An unmitigated B-movie that isn't thrilling enough or cheesy enough to make it worth the trip.

It's getting increasingly difficult to avoid films as bereft of redeeming qualities as Deadgirl, an exploitation-horror hybrid best left to torture-porn fanboys and academics seeking to dissect the outer reaches of the contemporary young-male mindset.

The new gimmick here is that all the flying body parts and absurd impalements come in 3D. And that's about as inspired as anything gets in this edition. Story and character get chucked to the sidelines as the arena has room for only death scenes.

Whimpers a bit like "Rosemary's Baby" and gurgles occasionally like "The Exorcist," but the video look and bare-bones craftsmanship all scream B movie.

Seldom has such great star power been marshaled in the service of a sillier movie than The Other Man.

This remake turns a fondly remembered horror/thriller into a mild and tedious suspense film.

The sole redeeming factor is the presence of Olivia Wilde (Fox's "House"), who manages to keep the proceedings watchable for at least a portion of the running time.

Director Christian Alvart ("Pandorum") is unable to invest much stylization into the proceedings, and Ray Wright's by-the-book screenplay only serves as a reminder of the innumerable demon-child movies that have preceded this one.

Comprising reclaimed bits from "Blade Runner," "A Clockwork Orange" and "Children of Men" and glibly served up with hyper Guy Ritchie attitude by first-time feature director Miguel Sapochnik, the resulting in-your-face mess never knows what it wants to be when it grows up.

Gratingly unfunny groaner littered with zero-dimensional, unlikable characters and hackneyed, threadbare comic setups.

Not much to laugh at.

For the most part, the acting is shrill and cartoonish. Indeed, most of the actors appear to be, in the finest desi filmmaking tradition, from the filmmakers' close circle of friends and family.

Bored audiences enduring this talky, aimless film might wish that they, too, were watching the porno film that is seen only in brief snippets.

The results might make for some swell production stills, but as a motion picture, Teknolust never really makes it alive out of Hershman's head.

A limp sex comedy about men behaving badly.

The clumsy and cliched approach by writer-director Bala Rajashekaruni robs the movie of any dramatic punch.

With the exception of a decent train-top chase, Torque is all vroom and no action.

Manages to be insulting both to slasher movies and lesbians. Where's the gay rights movement when you need it?

High school detention, most will attest, is a grim and dull experience. This film is not only about high school detention, it is similar to it. Audience members may feel like they've been sentenced, along with the five principals, to a day in the library, just sitting and doing nothing. While high schoolers will recognize some shrewd satiric hits in Breakfast Club, the film is tedious and unpredictable. Unless the nation's teachers decide to make it required viewing, this grueling Illinois-set presentation should be about as popular with teenage moviegoers as additional homework.

Nothing anchors the lighter-than-air story as it drifts away under the direction of Stephen Norrington ("Blade") into an FX stratosphere where wit, character and vigorous storytelling cease to matter.

Ultimately a hollow and pointless exercise.

Litvack is lazy with his jokes, characterizations, motives, and plotting.

The story has little resonance or depth. The R-rated movie comes off as exploitative and derivative.

Casa feels like a miss. The digging into each of these women's lives stays shallow and seldom uncovers anything unexpected.

Director Benjamin doesn't really handle the material with the outrageous excess it deserves, with the result that the proceedings seem far too mild.

A bland, formulaic picture where romance and comedy are noticeably absent. A more wooden and uninspired effort from talented people behind and in front of the camera is difficult to imagine.

By the time they're done with all the tinkering, "Scooby-Doo" ends up bearing as much a resemblance to Hanna-Barbera as the recent "Cat in the Hat" did to Dr. Seuss.

Combining the ludicrous with the lurid, Twisted is twisted all right.

Muddled and uninteresting.

What fans of the original movie, "Charlie's Angels," which was fun and good-natured, will make of this sloppy mess is hard to guess.

This thin concoction of domestic drama and thriller suspense won't hold up after the curiosity factor runs its brief course. Neither Robert De Niro nor a phalanx of a dozen producers can deliver Godsend from unintentional comedy.

In terms of inspiration or even the slightest shred of ingenuity, Banks ranks more like an 000 than an 007.

The scariest thing about this film is how desperate the makers are to earn a scream.

What the problem comes down to is a group of filmmakers making misguided choices in an effort to broaden the movie's demographics beyond those who attend X Games.

David Hubbard's script is so steeped in sludgy sentimentality that the film's early hints of quirkiness quickly give way to heavy-handed faith healing.

A laugh-starved comedy that seeks to plug into the comic stylings of Mo'Nique for its energy and humor.

This thoroughly repetitive, ill-conceived and poorly executed effort -- with an emphasis on the word "effort" -- defeats these two talented people more often than not.

A paranormal mystery without a spine. It has no suspense because it has no belief in itself.

Even more egregious than the film's concept is its execution, as it somehow manages to make scenes of drug addiction, hustling and even brotherly incest quite tedious.

Ultimately, the film staggers under the weight of its pretensions, its plot spiraling into murky illegibility.

Definitely third-rate Holocaust material.

From its uninspiring title -- and certain turnoff for young males -- to its limp slapstick and uneven acting, A Cinderella Story arrives with a dull thud.

The sequel retains not only the same gimmicky premise as the original but its preference for cliche-ridden dialogue and flat-footed comedy as well.

May have been adapted the 1996 French film "L'Appartement," but pretty much all evidence of what was once an engaging psychodrama has been lost in the translation.

Rarely do films from Hollywood emerge in such an inane manner. Its rote characters are inevitably in predictable situations with no subtext or subtlety to any of their predicaments.

The film seems nearly writer-free. Absolutely no time gets wasted on story, character development or logic.

One thing Marmaduke does have in common with the earlier Disney titles is a blessed scarcity of crass bodily-function gags that often pass as family comedy.

The back-to-the-beginning approach unimaginatively goes through the motions, offering scant justification for its boring existence, at least from an artistic point of view.

Ultimately, the film is as numbingly boring as, well, a lengthy train ride during which there's nothing to do but look out the window.

Having tackled treacherous terrain to film Hayata's story, the filmmakers miss the opportunity to deliver a scorching testament to the dangers and passions that drive the saga.

A dysfunctional drama.

If ever there was a lusty, lowbrow genre film destined for a life on video, this is it.

An oddity as awkward as its title, Angels With Angles is writer-director-star Scott Edmund Lane's would-be valentine to old-school showbiz comics, wrapped in a silly adventure-romance involving Cuban cigars and, yes, Fidel Castro.

The movie strands you in two miserable flats with these cliche-ridden characters and a static love story that is as predictable as it is pedestrian.

This silly film does nothing to enhance Taiwanese auteur Tsai Ming-liang's reputation. The acting is below par, the mise-en-scene is clumsy and the structure is lazy.

Longing makes you long for a good movie. Tedious and long-winded even at 90 minutes, this German film, written and directed by Valeska Grisebach, tells a mundane tale of adultery that lacks even the slightest insight.

The most appreciative audience for this lame National Lampoon release likely will be guys in tour buses.

What's most disturbing about "Bank" is its lack of ambition. Maybe Jenkins will take more chances in the future. If he's lucky, this stinker will be quickly forgotten.

Unfortunately, whatever father/daughter, time/memory, music/therapy issues Jaglom is striving to invoke here come across as mostly psychobabble and immaturity.

Krakowski's heavy-handed overreaching is the fatal problem: It's impossible to believe this character, even as he softens late in the game, as a forgiving and familiar victim of awful parenting.

The acting is overly broad, so even the dimmest light bulb in the audience gets the gags.

Over-the-top -- and ultimately tiresome -- female mud-wrestling, kick-boxing and cat fights in a parody of old exploitation movies.

Adolescent angst is the focus of Accidents Happen, a turgid melodrama based loosely on Brian Carbee's autobiographical book and one-man theater piece.

Paper Man is a bad idea, and the film, despite a few brave and good performances, never recovers from awkwardness of its premise.

A collection of feeble jokes in the service of green themes. Sustainability never looked so stupid.

Well, that didn't take long. Everything fun and terrific about "Iron Man," a mere two years ago, has vanished with its sequel. In its place, Iron Man 2 has substituted noise, confusion, multiple villains, irrelevant stunts and misguided story lines.

A numbingly indulgent drama whose fine cast can't breathe life into a script that isn't nearly as self-aware as it thinks.

Even during the climax, the film still is struggling to introduce the world of the film and its strange rules.

Has no inherent laughs, so an extremely versatile and talented cast struggles mightily to make something funny that simply isn't.