A crudely executed affair that doesn't play well to Western sensibilities.

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.

There's never a dull moment and seldom one that isn't sublimely ridiculous.

Despite the overplotting, there's scarcely any of the characterization that might have made some of it interesting.

Entirely too convoluted for kids and implausible even by the standards set by the original concept.

No better than the first.

Dumb premises have driven some wonderful romantic comedies, but for all its vaguely mystical trappings, Prywes's film lacks the magic that makes them work.

This tepid ghost story fails to focus on either its story or its target audience.

This oddly flat serial-killer picture shows none of the baroque flair that characterizes the best of Italian horror filmmaker Dario Argento's work.

Formulaic and deeply unfunny.

This loud and thoroughly obnoxious comedy about a pair of squabbling working-class spouses is a deeply unpleasant experience.

Ask New York-based filmmaker Amos Poe, who badly botches this profile of the artist with a sloppy structure, careless editing and amateurish optical effects that detract from what's actually good about the film: Earle's music.

Collapsed into the black hole of its own mythology.

Even the teens at whom this plodding and predictable romantic comedy is clearly aimed are unlikely to be swept away by its contrivances.

Seriously undermined by its sour tone and an unusually charmless performance by star Chris O'Donnell.

A misfire of spectacular proportions.

Maybe gross-out romantic comedy is a shallow well, and it was simply Rogers's misfortune to find himself with a bucket full of sludge.

This amateurish picture was built around surfing footage that Mikelson shot for a Compaq computer ad and developed with an eye for accommodating a series of lush tropical locations: It's no wonder the plot and characters feel like afterthoughts.

This mean-spirited revenge story would once have starred Cole Hauser's father, veteran B-movie psycho Wings Hauser, and played grindhouses and drive-ins. And it would have been a far more entertaining picture.

The sweet nostalgia of Travolta and Thurman's reprise of their "Pulp FIiction" dance-floor flirtation cuts through a lot of rubbish, including the Black Eyed Peas' smutty "Sexy."

Compared to this brash, lunkheaded vehicle for "Baywatch" star Pamela Anderson Lee, the Barb Wire graphic novels are masterpieces of subtlety and narrative restraint.

So bewildering it's almost entertaining, this comedy of fiftysomethings and their extramarital affairs is one of those films you can actually see flailing for life.

It's not easy to make a thriller that's both incredibly convoluted and intensely boring, but director E. Elias Merhige scores on both counts with this lame excuse for a spooky crime story.

Writer-director Richard Ledes' dreadfully misconceived, pitch-black, film-noir comedy seeks to find the humor in the post-WWII mental hygiene boom, and the result is way off target.

The relentlessly self-congratulatory tone is oppressive.

Chase is a veritable black-hole of mirthlessness who sucks every ounce of fun out what might otherwise be a fairly diverting comedy.

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.

If it's all supposed to be in fun, why does it feel so much like an insult?