Despite the A-list talent involved, this haunted house tale is a thrill-deprived, inert misfire.

Immortals is not only entirely without humor, but is dominated by a lot of huffing and puffing, thunderous self-importance and windy Socratic quotations about the immortality and divinity of men's souls. You just have to roll your eyes after a while.

Singleton's action thriller has a decent sense of propulsion but, after a faintly intriguing start, the convoluted plot mechanics overwhelm everything else, making you feel you're watching a detailed blueprint for a movie, and an increasingly far-fetched one in the bargain.

This sophomore feature is a stumble backwards in terms of maturity.

Sporadically funny though less effective at selling its melancholy undercurrents.

On any number of levels, "Devil" is troublesome at best, offensive at worst.

Monogamy doesn't manage to find anything particularly new to say, and says it very, very slowly.

British writer-director Roland Joffé dips a toe into explosive material - the Spanish Civil War, betrayal, sainthood, Opus Dei - but all these big themes and characters slip from his grasp.

Even the most desperately deprived secret-agent devotee will find little to cheer in this yawn-tastic 007 send-up.

A water-treading sequel offering just enough kooky color to keep less-discerning funnybook fans occupied, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance nudges its obscure hero's mythology forward a bit without seeming to care much how it gets there.

Last Night is a sex tease, but that makes it sound more exciting than it ever becomes.

The film is smart enough not to wear out its welcome. But that's the only sign of true intelligence in this juvenile caper.

He (Shankman) succeeds in draining most of the fun from a vehicle that was all about the winking humor of its flagrant cheesiness.

While the overall theme is potentially rich, filmmaker Griffin merely bores us.

The supporting players are either nondescript or overact to the point of exhaustion.

This is a relentlessly mechanical piece of work that will not or cannot take the imaginative leaps to yield even fleeting moments of awe, wonder or charm.

If the degree of laughter at the wrong moments and the number of walkouts at the Toronto International Film Festival are any indication, the film will appeal only to the most fondly indulgent.

There's just not enough going on behind actor Freddie Highmore's eyes to convince us this kid's existential angst is real.

The project suffers badly from being largely improvised as the pair fall back on familiar impressions and old jokes. Lazy and indulgent, it smacks of being what the British call a "jolly," that is a freebie with no obligation to turn in work afterward.

The formulaic script by Steve Koren doesn't manage to exploit the absurd premise with any discernible wit or invention, and the star is left floundering.

Charlie Hunnam and Terrence Howard put enough actors' oomph into these ledge mates to make them authentic characters even though the film fails to achieve anything like the same level of authenticity.

A limp piece of fan fiction about a fictional rock band's heyday and decline.

Lebanon, Pa. is a few strong moments of storytelling lost in a sea of indie cliche.

Hotel Transylvania checks in as an anemic example of pure concept over precious little content.

All the interest and good will built up by the sharply conceived preliminaries is washed away in a succession of scenes that feel crushingly routine and generic, not to mentioned guided by ideological urges.

It runs a little longer than two hours, but feels more like two tours of duty. And it has enough plot elements to fuel an armful of Tom Clancy novels but somehow manages to make none of them interesting.

A miscast James Franco and a lack of charm and humor doom Sam Raimi's prequel to the 1939 Hollywood classic. Oz the Wimpy and Weak would be more like it.

This is a good premise for a comedy, but somewhere along the way, it got diluted and turned into a sappy, feel-good story of family togetherness.