Lame and surprisingly awkward from start to finish.

It lacks the courage of its swinish convictions, and abruptly acquiesces to bland rom-com clichés three-quarters of the way to its appointed end.

Utterly predictable, noisy and stupid.

It's painfully corny and surprisingly vulgar, but this embarrassing attempt at a father-son heart-warmer just happens to feature two Hollywood legends, and they're both in terrific form.

It's more silly than scary and relies excessively on surprisingly low-rent CGI effects and crude wirework to drum up interest in the slight story.

It's all about action and ogling -- Jolie's boobs, butt and thighs get so much screen time they deserve their own credits.

The poorly executed scenes in which Duff's singing voice was clearly post-dubbed and her own lack of emotional range keep the film from rising to whatever potential it may have had.

Flashy, "MATRIX"-style action sequences trump ideas; it's hard not to feel you've just watched a feature-length video game with some really heavy back story.

Despite the edifying square-up -- moral lessons about family, the legacy of violence and the tenacious power of love -- the appeal is freak-show all the way.

This strictly paint-by-numbers effort is further sabotaged by the grating, so-called punk rock performances--actually heavy metal--that pad out the running time.

There are some good moments in SOUL MAN, but Gross steals the picture; he has the best lines and makes the most of them.

The comedy is cruelly subliterate (powdered deer privates figure prominently), the action -- performed by an aging, dumpy Seagal -- pointless, and the story pieced together from moldy cliches.

If you've seen one of these, you've seen them all.

Lacking so much as a shred of wit and crammed with more product placements than jokes, this unendurable stoner comedy clearly disproves the movie-formula wisdom that two guys, one Xbox and a 2-foot-long bong add up to something funny.

The film pulls off a couple of "gotchas!", but the subtle creepiness of its predecessors is gone, replaced by a sense of numbing predictability.

The energy is infectious, and while the female empowerment angle is no doubt sincere, the whole up-tempo construction jiggles a bit too much to be taken seriously.

A bizarre hybrid between Euro erotic thriller and a parable of Jewish awakening.

A far cry from such sneakily subversive werewolf-sex tales as "The Company of Wolves" (1984) or "Ginver Snaps" (2000), this pallid little picture is all "Lost Boys" (1987) posturing by way of the sublimely ridiculous "Covenant" (2006).

A contemptible excuse for a romantic comedy.

A very sweet, very funny coming-of-age story, featuring Kiss as the Great White Whale of adolescence.

It's not that Bedtime Stories is bad, it's just entirely and thoroughly adequate.

The war between highly specific coming-of-age angst and icky-sticky overcoming-adversity cliches eventually brings the whole thing down.

Romano is no match for his heavy-hitting supporting cast: Next to the seasoned likes of Harden or Rip Torn, who's hilarious as Cole's campaign manager, Romano's presence barely registers. Aside from the charming Tierney, there are no surprises in Mooseport.

A romantic comedy that's trying its damnedest to be cute and endearing and might be more successful if it weren't built on a foundation of barely-concealed misogyny.

Based on a goofy '60s TV series and aimed squarely at vulgar 10-year-olds (and inner vulgar 10 year olds), this sappy comedy is relatively harmless and occasionally serves up a funny bit.

Air America comes on like a noisy, overproduced sitcom pilot.

The studio certainly needn't hire any brilliant writers; they have only to repeat the plot of the first film in every sequel.

Dash and screenwriter Adam "Blue" Moreno abandon the stone-faced seriousness of the first film for a more playful approach, goofing on gangsta' poses and colorful hood-speak.