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.