The action scenes are poorly staged, the frights predictable, and the generally competent cast appears at a loss to make anything of the substandard material. Gabe Bartalos' makeup for the leprechaun is actually quite good, but his efforts go for naught.

We never get a real sense of what made these recordings so different or revolutionary. Part of the problem is that re-recorded versions of songs by the actors were used in the film, with vastly mixed results that never match the ferocity and excitement of the original tracks.

Blame It On Rio turns into a most uncomfortable film, leeringly depicting an affair with decidely icky undertones of incest and pedophilia. Between gratuitous (if titillating) nude scenes and a succession of lame soundtrack songs, there are plenty of travelogue shots to pad out the thin narrative line. Caine looks embarrassed through the entire film, as well he might.

A dumb end to a dumb series of movies that, in retrospect, play like the paranoid ramblings of a religious fundamentalist who sees unholy anti-Christian conspiracies behind every world event.

Generally regarded as Bronson's worst picture to date.

If you want to stoke children's imaginations you've got to offer them something more inspiring and graceful than this film, which could give video games a good reputation.

The cinematic adaptation of the novel, however, is so laughably awful that Auel later sued the producers for creating such an inaccurate work.

A real bore, with the director seemingly incapable of creating suspense.

For some reason, producer Wisberg decided to revive the long dead Hercules craze, and luckily it didn't take.

CAR 54, WHERE ARE YOU? adds nothing to the police comedy genre that another POLICE ACADEMY couldn't provide.

Not everyone's cup of tea, but definitely a must-see for fans of the band.

Although Brown (Endless Summer) captured the beauty and fun of his favorite sport in his "surfumentaries," Milius, whose work always seems underlain with weighty symbolic intent, infuses Big Wednesday with heavy-handed philosophy and all-around stupidity.

Indifferently directed and almost aggressively tedious, we'd call it cliched if they'd even bothered getting the cliches right.

Despite eye-catching sets and smart casting, this first feature-length film to be adapted from a video game is a bloated muddle.

The runaways' actions provide anything but responsible models for the children who make up the film's target audience, and the likable cast flails against the rampant idiocy and gross commercialism.

A painfully self-conscious comedy that mistakes relentless self-referentiality for cleverness, this half-witted misfire is filled with accelerated motion, repeated and overlapping scenes, direct address to the camera and other cliches of defamiliarization.

Buono is truly charming, and the film delivers a handful of genuine laughs -- low laughs, but laughs nonetheless; if only they weren't so few and far between.

Ritchie wraps this folderol in cinematic razzle-dazzle, including animated sequences, reverse motion, trompe l'oeil production design and tricky lighting. But it's still claptrap.

The whole thing is soggy cardboard.

The humor is forced.

Played for Maverick-like comedy, the film might have coasted on Harris and Mortensen's dialogue. But played straight it's both dull and preposterous.

The film is carelessly directed, paced, acted, and scripted, offering today's teenagers, at best, a confused message. Foremost among its endless problems is Avildsen's pathetic direction. Under his uninspired guidance, the actors appear to be performing in filmed rehearsals, guilty of glaring character inconsistencies from one scene to the next. The cliche-ridden story throws in every possible obstacle to the young couple's happiness.

QUICKSILVER isn't a movie. It's actually a series of rock videos occasionally interrupted by a slight dalliance with story progression. The premise is wholly fabricated, the style is pure MTV, and the characters are all pressed from Hollywood cliche cutters.

Waters fans and those with a taste for '60s indulgence will want to have a look, but keep that fast-forward button handy!

Indistinguishable from any of the He-Man TV episodes or videocassettes in any aspect other than length, which is probably a moot point at best. This is a ground-out effort designed to please the calculated expectations of He-Man's loyal audiences.

The first few films in this series are both amusing and produced with high technical values, but this fourth in the string is a poorly scripted, anemic production.

The plot soon disintegrates into dumbness, despite Scott's believable portrayal of an aquatic Dr. Dolittle. The screenplay chooses some poor times to relieve tension, and the jokes fall flat.

The special effects are awful (the piranhas are obviously hand puppets) and the script worse.