The sort of soft-core, erotic thriller that would benefit from a lot more trash and a lot more sex.

While the original was no classic, it had a few mild laughs and the plus-sized actor displayed a certain buffoonish charm. Such is not the case with this painfully unfunny, slapdash follow-up in which the title character is so relentlessly obnoxious that you'll be cheering for the villains.

What's most notable about Kyle Rankin's slick and compulsively watchable genre entry Run Hide Fight is the utter shallowness of its psychological perspective.

If there was a shred of life in the movie's performances (Snipes is joined in his phone-it-in appearance by Anne Heche and the obligatory pro wrestler Seth Rollins), or in Stockwell's direction, some in the audience might actually make that rarely true claim, "This is so bad it's good." They'd probably still be wrong.

Miller demonstrates even less conviction than his writers, relying on frequent flashbacks to fill in backstory that’s not evident from the main plot and substituting CGI exteriors for actual locations. His workmanlike approach conveys the essentials without delivering many of the thrills or stylistic flourishes that the genre demands, adequately fulfilling a familiar expectation for forgettable entertainment.

In a genre populated by an unusually high percentage of nearly unwatchable movies — the surprise-paternity comedy — John Asher's I Hate Kids comes as something of a surprise. Not because it's any good (no, no, no), but because of the number of talented people who, presumably having read the witless script, agreed to appear in it.

More scares are induced by the creepy soundtrack composed by Slash and Nicholas O'Toole than by the perfunctory special effects.

The result is a slacker comedy that goes slacker by the second, trying hard to be rude and crude but suggesting an old John Candy-Dan Aykroyd movie with bongs and more swearing.

The absurdist comedy Oconomowoc is not only named after a place but dedicated to it — “a city we love very much,” the end credits declare of the titular Wisconsin town — so it’s doubly disappointing that there’s not more there there.

The Rapture won’t come soon enough for the unfortunate souls forced to suffer through Left Behind.

If not always imaginative or digestible, the look of the settings and characters should keep kids awake for 86 minutes; and if the trick that eventually saves the day makes very little sense to critical moviegoers, at least it's cutely frantic eye candy.

A desperately strained comedy.

The not so fair and balanced film might have made its religious themes palatable if it worked reasonably well as a thriller. But director/screenwriter Lusko shows no flair for the genre, his muddled execution lacking any sense of pacing or suspense.

It may seem very on the nose that the word "disaster" is right there in the title, but then nothing seems too leaden for this fiasco.

There certainly are moving moments in this inspiring if necessarily somewhat morbid travelogue... but they’re buried in the sloppiness and self-indulgence that too often marks this vanity project.

This crass drag of a dud at best manages to elicit just a couple of half-hearted chuckles over the course of its 80-minute allotment.

This latest installment of the horror movie spoof franchise is mainly notable for its Charlie Sheen/Lindsay Lohan cameos.

This is a family movie about cats? Please, somebody tell the three separate teams of screenwriters credited with penning this thing.

From laughs to smarts to a credible interest in rehabilitation, lovers of love would do better to go see "Trainwreck" again.

There have been films that treated Nazi doctors conducting evil experiments in concentration camps more sympathetically.

It is not just a tough sit; it is nearly impossible to get through.

Other than some rather surprising DJ appearances, attractive scenery and beautiful bodies, Lebrija can’t find much to command attention other than an indulgently long and off-putting cock-fighting sequence.

A low-rent, post-apocalyptic sci-fi tale that doesn't succeed as either homage or parody of such obvious inspirations as the Mad Max series, Future World proves as original as its title

Car 54, Where Are You? makes the other recent big-screen adaptations of old TV series seem like episodes of "Masterpiece Theater" in comparison. [27 Jan 1994]

Ultimately unable to overcome both its amateurish qualities and its overly familiar elements.

Unfortunately, the R rating will prohibit the target audience -- namely teenage boys who find penis jokes endlessly hilarious - from seeing this relentlessly unfunny and vulgar effort until it shows up on video and cable.

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.

The action doesn't start until an hour into the picture, and is as unimaginative as everything that has preceded it.

One of those rare instances of a movie being so bad ... it's still really bad.

Barely managing to fill its brief running time despite its surfeit of smuttily vulgar gags, 3 Geezers! proves a less than subtle argument for euthanasia.

Has there ever been a Hollywood adaptation of a major novel as faithful and yet so misguided and downright strange as the three-part version of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged that now comes to a conclusion with the third installment?

The Walking Deceased is strictly DOA.

Writer-directors Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer basically reprise the tired formula from their earlier efforts, which is to throw in as many pop culture references as possible to cover up the lack of any real wit.

This banal comedy is filmmaking of the lowest order.

Jewtopia feels like a failed sitcom pilot that might have been created by Jackie Mason.

Starring a miscast Hilary Duff in the title role, The Haunting of Sharon Tate deserves the instant obscurity for which it is certainly destined.

Featuring unlikeable characters, preposterously contrived plotting, ham-fisted dialogue and strained attempts at poeticism, Among Ravens is a misfire on every level.

The lame gags, ineptly staged, don't produce anything in the way of genuine laughs, though there is the occasional funny line.

Featuring a non-stop barrage of gross-out effects depicting the substances that its title would indicate, this low-brow horror film is mainly suitable for audiences desperately pining for yet another "Toxic Avenger" sequel.

In its tiresome attempts to send up its star's image and not take itself too seriously, the film becomes exceedingly laborious.

Grizzly II: Revenge is so bad, it's just bad.

Here's the deal: The worst sex cartoon in Playboy's long history can't compete with the sheer vacuousness of this inane comedy.

Cooper weaves a few well-placed observations about gun culture and male condescension into the heavy-handed mess.

Ultimately best suited for the confines of late-night cable.

Cheap-looking, broad and ultimately unnecessary comedy.

To say that Melania is a hagiography would be an insult to hagiographies. This is a film that fawns so lavishly over its subject that you feel downright unpatriotic not gushing over it.

A cross-cultural buddy-cop flick so bottom-of-the-barrel it would've been hooted off screens even when such things were in commercial demand.

Laughably inept on every technical level and representing the sort of badness that falls far short of being campy fun, Contract to Kill is strictly DOA.

This low-rent, convoluted tale about a young woman returning home to solve the mystery of her mother’s violent death is amateurish to the extreme.

Utterly lacking nuance and any sense of proportion, the irresponsible film depicts Democrats not as possessing misguided political ideas but rather as "depraved crooks" and "hateful people."

Offering nary a single funny moment in its seemingly endless 84 minutes, the film...provides evidence that cinematic sketch comedy is clearly a lost art. The inevitable outtakes seen during the end credits seem to indicate that the actors, at least, were having fun. Too bad none of it managed to find its way onto the screen.

Laughs are virtually non-existent.

Even without the cloud of the recent disturbing developments, United Passions is a cringeworthy, self-aggrandizing affair that mainly benefits from its unintentional camp value.

For all of its incendiary arguments, Death of a Nation is ultimately tedious and repetitive. No one expects, of course, that D'Souza would make a thoughtful, balanced or historically accurate documentary. But is it unreasonable to hope that he make one that doesn't bore the pants off us?

Amateurishly shot, written and acted, the film lacks any redeeming values to compensate for its horrific aesthetic.

The film is well worth seeing for its views of the parched wilderness of far-flung Brazil and its talkative depiction of an unlikely friendship.

Shades of "Like Water for Chocolate" and "Chocolat" -- but unlike the latter's tender Juliette Binoche-Johnny Depp romance, the ordained Rai-McDermott union fails to generate any convincing heat, and no amount of cardamom pods or lotus root is going to help.

Bottom line: A soft-hearted gross-out pic. If you're not a male between 17 and 23 and don't find the chance to see R-rated rejects from "America's Funniest Home Videos" a good thing, The Long Weekend will be a long and pointless haul.

An embarrassingly meager comedy.

It's very much in "A League of Their Own" league, but what the inspirational sports drama Believe in Me might lack in freshness, it nicely compensates for in heartfelt, winning conviction and spirited performances.

The latest example of J-horror to reach our shores, Takeshi Furusawa's Ghost Train demonstrates that the increasingly tired genre may be in need of a serious overhaul.

The elegant looking, nostalgic film is undermined by inadequate character development, amateurish acting and sentimental self-regard.

It never hits any erotic sparks, and the aftermath is distinctly anticlimactic. Breakfast is handsomely shot; the settings are minimalist but well chosen. An old, rather questionable maxim says that sex sells. Not in this wan rendition.

Has thoughtful and funny characters, something that should give this droll drama appeal beyond a niche gay audience.

This family film is willing to tackle important issues such as burgeoning sexuality, alcoholism and a troubled home life but does so in a bland and unconvincing story.

Although clearly a labor of love for its creator, this coming-of-age tale about a life-changing summer for a young man dreaming of becoming an artist lacks the dramatic momentum to propel audience interest.

A limp sex comedy about men behaving badly.

It boasts enough camp, skin and 15th century flashbacks of torment to make it fitting fodder for campus screens.

Awkward comic timing and uneven performances spoil the desired effect.

The film is narrated by Kathleen Turner in her inimitable husky style, with the actress receiving a final credit as one of the volunteers at ground zero.

For more than half the film's running time, it's an engaging one. Centering on the boys' hardscrabble formative years, first-time director Breno Silveira delivers an assured first hour before losing grasp of his material.

So muted and internal in its focus that its entire running time feels like a preamble to a drama that never quite begins.

Yet for all the complex symbolism and visual brilliance, Blind Pig ultimately is an extended short.

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

A rousing fable drenched in Indian "magic realism" pays tribute to the enchantment of movies.

Most notable for its evocative photography of the bleak Oklahoma landscapes and for the memorable turns by its two leads, who bring a haunting, world-weary gravitas to their performances that feels utterly authentic.

Its adult and hard-hitting subject matter probably won't bring in masala-loving family crowds, but it offers a lesson with long-lasting emotional and moral impact for thinking audiences.

The film, which received its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival, no doubt will become a mainstay of university film courses.

A faux black-and-white silent film that will gain immeasurably from its road show presentations, Louis is more of a novelty than a satisfying cinematic experience.

Dead Awake, now receiving a limited theatrical release, is the sort of B-movie effort that so screams "direct to video" that it's a wonder they don't hand you DVDs as you enter the theater.

More stylishly filmed than many others of its ilk, but at the end of the day, is just an ordinary slasher film.

In The 5th Quarter, the filmmakers' hearts are in the right place but the execution couldn't be more wrong-headed.

Zokkomon gives Indian youngsters not only their first super hero but, even more tantalizing, he is a young boy "terrorizing" susceptible adults in a small village to the increasingly delight of the town's children.

Camera stays very, very close to faces, emphasizing their humanity, and by the end of the film you feel you know something about these women.

Aarakshan is heavy on speeches, but the film manages to work because director Prakash Jha has cast it wisely, and has clearly put time and care into exploring the nuances of the issue.

Astin's endearingly game performance isn't enough to carry the film, which won't likely see a second week in theaters.

At once impressionistic and precise,The Tiniest Place (El Lugar más pequeño) is a beautifully rendered memory piece that insists on the necessity of memory.

Silver Tongues isn't a film that ever tries to be especially palatable. Its cynicism is of an unusually bitter, even nihilistic flavor, in the vein of early Neil Labute. This leaves an intriguing, memorable but naggingly unpleasant aftertaste.

Vuorensola's sci-fi comedy is uneven, its humor never quite matching the luster of its visuals.

Amateurish vampire/musical mashup begs for a wooden stake.

Benasra's documentary purports to be a sociological examination of the intimate relationship between women and their shoes. But God Save My Shoes also displays a creepily fetishistic feel.

The film's great gift, though, is Romaner. Unbelievably, this is the first film for the Bavarian stage actress. She fully inhabits the role of this complex personality whose passion for love and art collides with her role of wife and mother.

The bottom line: Mirthless and unmoving drama about a depressed stand-up comedian finding a new life as a kindergarten teacher.

Other than providing yet another meta-theatrical examination of the ever-blurring line between reality and artifice, Janeane From Des Moines emerges as a pointless affair.

The Prosecution of an American President demonstrates that you can be deeply sympathetic to a film's arguments and still come away feeling unconvinced.

Managing to make the lore of snuff films not just repulsive but mind-numbingly dull, the horror film Gut offers two characters -- and, one imagines, a filmmaker -- who should have put splatter films behind them many years ago.

While it sometimes feels hard to accept everything recounted at face value -- the brothers, after all, were toddlers during the events in question -- Here I Learned to Love nonetheless feels highly authentic in its evocation of the horrors of the Holocaust and the emotional scars still borne by its now-aged survivors.

If the dreary Mystical Laws was designed by its creating organization as some sort of recruitment tool, then they clearly have a lot to learn from the Scientologists.