Although the "story" is almost wholly without depth or plausibility, it's carried off with great style.

Just more proof that special effects are worthless if there are no solid characters or story. My Science Project is formula filmmaking with no substance, style, or entertainment to be found in its unimpressive package.

An insult to the intelligence of most moviegoers.

Seidelman has succeeded in making a sow's ear out of a silk purse. Weldon's novel is witty, wacky, and wonderfully way out; the film is none of those things. The problem lies with Barr in the pivotal role of Ruth. Once the part was hers, the whole script had to be rewritten around her monotonous delivery and limited acting ability, much to the detriment of the plot.

The title CB4 stands for Cell Block 4, but it may as well mean crash and burn, because that's what happens to this sputtering satire of modern rap music and Black hip-hop culture.

Cassavetes' films can be annoying and enigmatic, but they are usually creative and interesting. Not so with this one.

Toback quickly reveals himself as an insufferable, opinionated blowhard who pontificates shamelessly about the art of the cinema while indulging his own obsessions on film.

The plot line is as simple as they come, and Badham's direction is as mechanical as his star. The human actors are secondary, for the real star of the show is Number 5. He's really pretty charming, though his unusual antics aren't enough to carry a feature-length motion picture.

Director Peter Medak and screenwriter Leonard Michaels (working from his own novel) apparently tried to make a film like THE BIG CHILL for mature men, but the stagy result of their efforts will leave viewers cold. All of the characters are so broadly drawn that they become laughable, rather than interesting.

This one-joke film beats its punch line to death, playing its gay character for big laughs with generally predictable and boring results. Hamilton (who coproduced) chews up the scenery with relish, and the bland supporting performances yield to his campy caricature, But the subtle element of self-parody that distinguished the best of the Zorro films is absent, and the gay stereotype is more offensive than comical.

Even Mo'Nique's outsize presence isn't enough to make ancient gags about stuck-up popular girls or about voluptuous vultures clearing a whole buffet table in one fell swoop funny.

For a few flickering moments, we care a bit about the people, but then it's gone. There's little plot, and the picture is far too long and fraught with allegory. Director Hector Babenco's sense of style is evident, but a sharper editing eye would have helped.

There's something special about this underwhelming mess of a Street Fighter reboot that many cinematic cheese-lovers will find very appetizing. The fact is that The Legend of Chun-Li is not at all a good flick, but it's filled with so much cornball ineptitude that one would think some rather broken mad movie genius was behind it.

Really lame.

The film is a mess from start to finish with several main characters who appear and disappear throughout. No character development, no thematic development, no narrative development. No life. No force. No dice.

Like virtually every Disney comedy released for the last several years, Captain Ron starts well but gets soggier as it goes along.

Considering the major talents involved here, one would expect to find something more than a run-of-the-mill crime thriller. In a sense one does, for 8 MILLION WAYS TO DIE is a paralyzingly inept film.

Mean-spirited and depressing, this horror movie in comedy disguise delights in the twin spectacles of morbid obesity and domestic abuse, of which children are often the target.

Sidney Lumet's overblown direction strips the story of its magic, Ross is too old for the part and never quite captures Dorothy's innocence, and Pryor is wasted in a film ill-suited to his talents.

The choice is yours: Shell out 10 bucks for this dire spoof of recent romantic comedies a la "Scary Movie" and "Not Another Teen Movie", or toss your 12-year-old nephew a quarter and get him to act out scenes from his favorite movies for 80 minutes: The entertainment value will be about the same.

Conway's constant pratfalls and frightened, anxious looks may be a riot for the kids, but anyone over the age of six will find them just plain dumb.

The plot is full of huge holes, and the film fails to live up to its terrific opening credit sequence.

An all-but-incoherent mess whose main components are palpably fake-looking CGI effects, video-game-style action sequences and Milla Jovovich's admirably taut abdomen, Kurt Wimmer's film epitomizes just about everything wrong with post-MATRIX, comic book-/video-game-inspired, Hong Kong-action-style sci-fi thrillers.

Meredith's narrative helped to keep the proceedings together but could not circumvent Rydell's ordinary direction and the silly script. McQueen could do a lot of things well, but comedy wasn't his forte.

Virtual reality aside, THE LAWNMOWER MAN suffers all the usual problems: the cliched story is further undermined by wooden performances (Fahey, his naturally dark hair stripped to the consistency of a Harpo Marx fright wig, is particularly excruciating) and the inevitable [spoiler omitted] ending.

Director Edwards confused humor with speed; so the pace is 150 mph, but there is no time to laugh even if there were any reason to.

No matter how you parse it, the film is a bizarre muddle.

This film was a feeble attempt by Hammer to bring some freshness to its series of Frankenstein films by introducing black humor. The jokes are told in such a straightforward, dry manner, however, that you're never sure whether they're supposed to be taken seriously.