Ridiculous scripting and frequently comical budget limitations make this film a mostly awful trip to Bruce Lee Land, though the fight scenes, choreographed by Mike Stone, a karate champion and former partner of Chuck Norris, are spectacular and not as silly as the usual Hong Kong product. For fans of the genre only.

The only thing that differentiates this weak offering from a made-for-television feature are Fairchild's nude scenes, which are gratuitously worked in and add nothing to the story.

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

Frenetic and cheerless action aside, the film's real problem is the Cat, who looks most unmagically like a second-string college sports mascot and conducts himself like a risque baggy-pants comedian.

A welcome alternative to such hyperkinetic drivel as Pokémon.

Good-natured fun; it doesn't always work, but it's not for want of trying.

The script, based on a Dark Horse comic-book series, is hugely predictable, but the robot effects by veteran Phil Tippett are nastily entertaining.

Yes, it's really silly, and no, you won't remember a thing about it the second it's over, but adults looking for fast moving, non-violent fun that kids might actually enjoy could do a lot worse.

Director Meir Zarchi may have been trying to make a point about the horrors of rape, brutality, revenge, and reprisal, but he simply isn't a good enough director to extract any relevance or nuance from his exploitative material. Watch Wes Craven's Last House On The Left instead.

Like everything else about this insulting romantic comedy, the Jessica Alba/Dane Cook love match is degraded by vile jokes, a boorish attitude toward women and a smutty tackiness not seen since those stupid nudie-cuties of the 1960s.

This is a sort of remake of A Yank At Oxford (1938) without any of that film's charm or humor. Lowe passes off arrogance as a cute personality quirk, and the whole movie plays like just another teen-oriented exploitation effort, replete with sex and booze.

Even Spade's most dedicated fans would probably be better off staying home and watching a "Just Shoot Me" rerun.

Character actress Lin Shaye, usually relegated to grotesque supporting roles in mainstream comedies, is a revelation as Buono's embittered, cancer-ridden mother.

It fails utterly as a horror picture, although it delivers plenty of PG-13-rated flesh and unintentional laughs.

The film's only mildly appealing character is the "Big A" store clerk (Brian Posehn) who refuses to be amused by Lloyd and Harry's moronic antics; sadly, even he eventually succumbs to the film's relentless and overarching stupidity.

Even Bisset has to struggle to keep from looking embarrassed. Sadly, despite these numerous flaws, WILD ORCHID isn't even bad enough to be good.

Routine thriller.

Pop tunes are mixed in with some of the original G&S songs in a pirate period setting that grates on the nerves, as does the inane toilet humor that substitutes for wit. All the performers, especially McNichol, look as if they can't wait until the film is over, and one can hardly blame them.

Whereas Tod Browning showed the warm humanity of such people in FREAKS (1932), Winner cruelly exploits their handicaps for the purpose of repulsing his audience. This alone makes the film detestable.

The tiny, impassive-faced Liu is a disaster. She looks cute in her custom commando gear, but she's not actress enough to make Sever's ridiculous, faux hard-boiled dialogue sound like anything but the formulaic nonsense it is.

Director Rick Rosenthal ("Halloween II") seems to have forgotten everything he ever knew about generating suspense, relying on cliched shadows and grainy, handheld images supposedly shot by the increasingly terrified students.

Though there's some trashy fun to be had in the film's first half, this cynical sequel -- devolves into space junk even faster than the unfortunate Ross.

Just like many real-life holiday get-togethers with the family, this comedy starts out pleasantly enough but degenerates into awkwardness and furtive watch-checking to see how much longer you have to suffer before you can leave.

The result is 93 very long minutes' worth of admirably committed actors putting themselves through the emotional wringer to very little end.

Bronson does his usual violent-teddy-bear number believably, and the other actors do what they can with the formula script and hack direction.

This big budget mish-mash is almost unbelievably derivative and shockingly cheap looking.

Director Jamie Blanks "Urban Legend" appears to be carving himself a career making slasher movies for a new generation; unfortunately, he's in no way improving on the originals.

Why do moviegoers and gamers keep going to see video-game-based movies when neither group is ever happy with the results?