After a very effective opening scene, it starts to go off the rails and finally derails completely.

Everything about the film is fussy, from the direction to the lighting and camerawork to the chiming score. It’s all so studied and lacking in teeth that it lurches into melodrama.

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

Snyder and writers David Hayter and Alex Tse never find a reason for those unfamiliar with the graphic novel to care about any of this nonsense. And it is nonsense.

A cloyingly sentimental story that rings false in every moment.

Loud, mean-spirited and generally obnoxious, Son of the Mask makes the boisterous 1994 original look downright demure and refined.

Cursed, a modern-day werewolf tale that fails to provide either Craven's trademark chills or Williamson's trademark satirical wit, is a distinctly subpar film that, but for the current boxoffice streak enjoyed by such formulaic genre entries, deserved to go direct to video.

A desperately strained comedy.

A deeply dispiriting movie, not just because it is grindingly bad but because Jane Fonda actually chose this for her comeback after a 15-year absence from the screen. But it's worse than that. Fonda, one of the best actors of her generation, is downright awful in a role she could have -- and probably should have -- sleepwalked through.

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

A gloriously lead-footed excursion into time travel with all the accoutrements of 1950s science fiction: an absurd plot, cliched characters, corny effects and a race against time to save mankind.

An embarrassment to all concerned, the film was written, directed and produced by Soderbergh for reasons that are not readily apparent.

There's absolutely nothing fantastic or transporting about London, an endlessly ponderous relationship picture that also has zilch to do with the British city.

The latest entry in the "This film is so bad we're not screening it for critics" genre.

Witless, soulless and joyless, it displays its video game origins throughout.

The movie, which opened last week in Seattle and opens Friday in Los Angeles, isn't so much getting a release as an escape. The movie is directed, shot, acted and outfitted with special effects -- such as that guy (Michael Deak) in the monster suit -- so as to make American International horror films of the late '50s and '60s look like sophisticated gems.

An acutely misguided, purported satire dealing with the prickly subject of child molestation.

An embarrassingly meager comedy.

The sheer nastiness of the jealous one-upmanship and angry sabotage puts a damper on the yuletide comedy. You're much better off watching a DVD of "Bad Santa."

So blatantly not funny that it might as well have been called "National Geographic's Van Wilder 2."

While the 1986 edition was no classic, it's light years better than this update, which naturally opened without being screened for those ultimate villains, the critics.

A monumentally unfunny time-waster.

It's all quite a mess, with awkward performances, worse dialogue and a painfully protracted running time conspiring against any chance of enjoyment, even in a so-bad-it's-good guilty pleasure way.

Racially insensitive, politically incorrect and beyond crude.

The claustrophobic and poorly executed Caffeine is either a play in search of a movie or a movie in search of a play but, either way, it's searching for the wrong thing. What it desperately needs are laughs.

D-grade "Running Man" ripoff.

Fails to live up to even the feeble potential of its premise.

Working from a flawed premise with characters lacking credibility and plot turns more moronic than funny, the movie flatlines in about five minutes.