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.

There is a clear sense here that Coixet is completely out of her depth in this genre exercise, which is all excessive surfaces and no tension, however hard the music and sound effects try to tell audiences otherwise.

The film lazily directed by Warren P. Sonoda barely manages to squeeze a single laugh into its interminable 112-minute running time.

It can be definitively stated that Dirty Grandpa is utterly unfunny.

A disregard for the rules established by George Romero (or the alternatives imagined by Danny Boyle) is far from the only problem with Christopher Landon's film, which does prove one thing fairly handily: Even beings deprived of the intellect and spirit granted to living humans can team up to produce a major studio motion picture.

Laughs are virtually non-existent.

A shrill, garish hodgepodge of familiar elements from other animated vehicles (most evidently 2013’s Epic), there’s virtually nothing about this forced, fractured fairy tale that feels remotely fresh or involving.

The kind of blithely confident, creatively impoverished dud that leaves you slightly stunned someone greenlit it, the movie has the distinction of feeling like a bad idea from its very first frames.

The Walking Deceased is strictly DOA.

Featuring stereotypical characterizations and painfully awkward dialogue, the film treats its dramatic themes with a wince-inducing shallowness. Virtually nothing in the drawn-out proceedings works on any level, and the characters are so inherently unlikeable that being in their company is as painful for viewers as it is for them.

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.

Resembling something dwelling in the bottom of the remainder bin, The Seventh Dwarf is a garish-looking, slapdash mashup of an animated fairy tale.

A deadly earnest polemic whose good intentions are smothered by its inept execution.

Director Bafaro shows little aptitude for the driving sequences which are stunningly dull in their repetitiveness and lack of visual flair. Shot largely from the driver's perspective and rarely bothering to show both vehicles in the same frame, Wrecker feels like an endless ride to nowhere.

One of the most egregiously awful horror films in recent memory.

This faith-based drama "inspired by true events" (a phrase that hereafter has lost all its meaning) manages to be dumb on so many levels that, well, it simply has to be taken on faith.

There's not a scary moment in the movie, and its characters are neither likable enough to root for nor so repulsive we eagerly await their deaths.

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

A wrongheaded, utterly incompetent, and nearly laugh-free satire.

What it all adds up to is either laughably baffling or just plain laughable, depending on how much attention one has paid.

There's nary a single B-action movie cliché missed.

It's all about as dreary as the constant rainfall featured as part of the Portland, Ore., setting, and the director, when he's not leeringly photographing his leading lady's naked body in the shower, vainly tries to up the scare ante by periodically raising the soundtrack volume to intolerable levels.

Derivative to such a degree that it seems almost a parody of its genre that has lost significant box-office steam, Maximum Ride is so ineptly executed that it might as well feature its own Mystery Science Theater 3000 soundtrack.

A loathsome redemption tale that rings false on every front except when depicting capitalistic assholery (and sometimes fails to convince us even then), Williams' directing debut The Headhunter's Calling (from a script by former corporate headhunter Bill Dubuque) not only expects us to root for its unlovable protagonist, but expects us to do so when that man is played by Gerard Butler.

Tell Me How I Die doesn't even have the smarts to be snappily paced. By the time the seemingly endless film reaches its conclusion, the title will seem like wish fulfillment.

Producers may have envisioned a Die Hard-like cat-and-mouse game between their protagonists and the heavily armed goon squad. But even using the more appropriate Olympus Has Fallen as a benchmark, Kill Ratio is a snooze.

So formulaic and unoriginal that its poster should accompany the dictionary definition of derivative, The Gracefield Incident degenerates into endless scenes of people running around in the woods breathlessly shouting horror film cliches while being photographed in shaky-cam fashion.

A giant thud of a film that makes one doubt the fact that West ever directed a proper Hollywood movie.

Like so many faith-based efforts, I Can Only Imagine suffers from a terminal case of self-importance.

Making their previous vehicles Step Brothers and Talladega Nights seem the height of comic sophistication by comparison, Holmes & Watson features the duo parodying Arthur Conan Doyle's famous characters to devastatingly unfunny effect.

A mishmash of action movie and buddy-cop clichés rendered in incompetent fashion, this wink-wink homage to 1991's Showdown in Little Tokyo makes its inspiration seem like a classic.

The picture sometimes briefly achieves that rare feat, of being so terrible it entertains. Sometimes it's genuinely offensive as well. Unfortunately, enough dull stretches interrupt the action that only the most hard-core cinematic dumpster-divers will care.

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

The cast does what it can with this thin material, but even at its best, 4/20 Massacre is duller than exploitation cinema has any right to be.

There's nary a believable moment, emotionally or otherwise, in No Postage Necessary, which also suffers from its overly treacly musical score composed by Closshey. The film bears as much relation to real life as cryptocurrency does to hard cash.

The idea is cartoonish in its essence but the pic is shot and played with such straight-faced realism that Swallow becomes utterly ridiculous.

While Travolta may believe he's seriously engaging with the character, following thesps like Dustin Hoffman and Sean Penn into the always-dicey enterprise of mimicking disability, his performance is all shtick and no heart.

Given the utter incoherence of the main characters' comings and goings, the pic's main point of interest is its documentation of Burning Man's many oversized art projects.

Tiresomely unimaginative feature.

Sacrifices suspense and narrative coherence for moody atmospherics and hallucinatory visuals. Uninvolving to the extreme, She's Missing misses the mark entirely.

I'm not sure who this remarkably tone-deaf, cynical-for-the-wrong-reasons film is supposed to be for, other than maybe college-hating gajillionaire Peter Thiel. As the kids used to say, thanks, I hate it.

Monotonous, unimaginative actioner.

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.

In the climactic team rollerblade race down the "devil's backbone," this Warner Bros. throwaway tries to combine "Rollerball" and "Breaking Away" for a wow finish that will leave audiences awestruck and cheering. Skaters crash into fences, hit their heads on spittoons, smash genitals-first into trees, jump over cars, slide under semis and battle each other. But this absurdly contrived hokum, poorly shot and edited, is the final insult in what is overall a new low for teen-targeted, big-screen pulp. [20 Sept 1993]

Wretched excuse for a film comedy. [12 July 1993]

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

It is an airless and stilted endeavor driven by a mechanical screenplay (written by Matt Sazama & Burk Sharpless and Claire Parker & Clarkson). Its lack of imagination would be astounding if it wasn’t so expected.

This is a uniquely tiresome slog — madly over-plotted, thuddingly derivative, insanely overlong and slathered in a big symphonic score that strives to infuse momentum into a saga with minimal emotional stakes.

This sub-Hallmark dreck made by a bunch of hacks that don’t deserve to be named is the first film out of Lohan’s Netflix deal and her first feature in three years. Not to beat up on a former child star who has overcome more than her share of demons, but if this is the best vehicle she could find, waiting another three might not have been a bad idea.

When a movie is so dire you begin to suspect you’re in for a bad time before the title card drops, you cling to what tiny scraps of fun are to be found like shards of wood in a shipwreck.

Sorry, but you need to have something to think about during this latest edition of a franchise that is dead creatively if certainly not commercially.

This banal comedy is filmmaking of the lowest order.

Inspirationally impaired and dramatically retarded.

Even by the low standards of the genre it represents, this female teen comedy represents a new nadir.

The problem is that if Callahan spent even a week writing this script, he wasted four good days. The dialogue, characters and situations are distressingly bad.

There's a fresh candidate in the running for worst movie of 2007 honors.

Featuring one-note characterizations, laughable dialogue, an overwrought musical score and technically poor filmmaking values, the film ultimately is utterly reprehensible.

Crosses the line from horror to just plain sick.

There is little worse in the movie world than a spoof that falls flat on its over-costumed butt, but that's what you get with Your Highness.

Despite the dizzying array of talent involved both in front of and behind the camera, this godawful exercise is so painfully unfunny, so screamingly bad that it immediately qualifies as one of the worst films of all time.

From the opening credits -- an animated sequence so crude a junior-high art student would be ashamed of it -- to a climax in which Kate's dog is taken hostage with a crossbow, there's not an ounce of mirth in this parade of ghastly accents, tin-eared romantic montages and dime-store knavery.

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.

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.

Comes up so short it effectively demonstrates that there are actually a few rungs below Z-grade fare.

Bereft of interesting characters, clever dialogue and any semblance of humor or visual coherence, Exists offers nothing to justify its cinematic existence.

By now, it's clear that every Adam Sandler movie is dada of the high-concept, low-hanging-fruit variety, in which the Happy Madison stock company uses filmmaking (loosely termed) as an excuse to take an extended tropical vacation.

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."

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.

Amateurish on many levels and at some point seeming to have been made up on the spot (which would be quite a feat for animation), the collaboration between directors Thorbjorn Christoffersen and Stefan Fjeldmark is a strong contender for the year's worst film, and not in a fun way.

Nearly eight years on from the signing of all the brand extension contracts, here is the primarily pop-star-voiced animated musical UglyDolls, an imbecilic eyesore that could lay claim to being one of the worst movies ever made if it was worth such hyperbole.

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.

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.

The resulting effort proves so exploitative that its end credits' dedication to the victims and first responders feels tawdry. 9/11 represents a cheapo disaster movie wrapping itself in the piety of one of the nation’s most tragic events.

Demented absurdist comedy that doesn’t just push the envelope in terms of offensive and disgusting content, it folds it neatly and uses it for toilet paper. Desperately striving for cult status that it will never achieve, Assholes could be described as forgettable. Except, sadly, it isn’t.

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?

The filmmaking and performances are so amateurish that any possibility of even the guiltiest of pleasures are quickly erased.

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

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

Like his (Farrands) previous effort, this film takes a real-life tragedy and manages to treat it in horribly tawdry and tediously uninteresting fashion.

Numbingly dumb and impersonally executed, you'd call it derivative if only it managed to steal anything worth using from the many movies it apes.

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