Machine Gun Preacher has a lot more wrong with it than a bullet-riddled premise. It is yet another iteration of the big, strong white man who comes to save legions of poor anonymous black Africans.

If you're a Rainn Wilson fan, catch a rerun of "The Office."

Despite its collegiate setting, 21 and Over is pretty much for people with an IQ of 21 and under.

This movie is a howler as well -- possibly even intentionally -- but if it is a black comedy, the joke is overextended by far too many arms and legs. [19 March 1999, Life, p. 13E]

Don't stop believing. Just avoid clichéd musicals that try to capture the anarchic spirit of rock with trite commercial re-treads.

It settles for the recycled emotions of the past despite the fact "Schindler's List" has forever made such treatment shamefully passe. [18Apr1997 Pg.03.D]

Almost everyone in this has done better, and those who haven't, like young Ms. Panettiere, have plenty of time to do so.

The movie's opening half-hour is merely dull, but the final hour is brain-damaging. [11 Dec 1998]

Don't put yourself through this hell.

It's almost impressive when a movie can manage to be both repellently vulgar and sickeningly sweet in the span of a mere two hours. Almost.

Fun for less than 30 of the 80-minute running time.

It's dogged by awkward dialogue, a ridiculous plot and lackluster performances, especially by the leads.

It's unclear why the writers bothered to update the cartoon, unless it was to expand the possibilities for quips and jokey ideas. If so, they failed in their mission, as the movie elicits few laughs.

Director Kevin Smith's tweets, jokes and sharp commentary after being denied a seat aboard a Southwest Airlines flight because of his girth were a lot more engaging than Cop Out, his new movie.

Too much. The hackneyed story about an affluent damsel in distress who decides to fight her bully of a husband is simply too overdone.

There's nothing worse than a boring behemoth.

Ten minutes into the picture, you're searching the screen for life-support machines.

If only a psychic could have warned us about these wretched Spider-Man spinoffs.

Speaking of that middle-finger finale, there is one redeeming trait: At least it signals the end credits.

This unearthed cheapie and fast-forwarder's delight is redeemed by the dubbed- in cathedral tones (they're vintage gladiator pic) coming from our hero's larnyx. [20 Dec 1991, p.3D]

Barrels around in manic fashion much like Carrey does in most of his movies. He's meant to be a fool for love, but mostly he's just bonkers.

The cliché-laden dialogue, schlocky special effects and predictable plot are derivative; the movie is overwrought and lacks suspense.

Balls of Fury makes "Dodgeball" look like high art. It'll be tough to crack a smile, let alone laugh, during this uninspired and sophomoric satire of sports movies.

The best thing about A Good Day to Die Hard is its title.

Except for a nifty climactic biker attack on the Mississippi statehouse, you've seen the rest. You won't however, see Boz on screen for long. A Stone face, yes - but not a great one. [21 May 1991, p.4D]

The worst of '88's major Christmas pics has scientist Dan Aykroyd inadvertently beaming Kim Basinger to Earth in a bum experiment; the result is as tired as its title, though Basinger gives another smooth comic performance. [09 Jun 1989, p.3D]

One of the more befuddling movies of recent years. The premise makes no sense, no matter how you turn it around in your head.

A film of repetition, a bloody dance consisting of three steps: stab, scream, repeat.

t's far too soon for an actress as vital as Jessica Lange to stoop to Bette Davis-Joan Crawford horror-hag histrionics. [6 Mar 1998, pg.04D]

All you get here for paid admission is a long and terrific avalanche scene -- state of the art, no question. Then it's over and ready to melt away, much like memories of this movie.

All cinematic creativity seems to have focused on devising the most repellent ways to maim and murder.

A movie that gives marriage, homosexuality, friendship, firefighters, children and nearly everything else a bad name.

A mongrel of a movie.

The transition from Hanna-Barbera animation to manic-barbaric live action falls flatter than a granite slab, from the first of many deadly stone-age wordplays - "Steven Spielrock Presents" - to the gross-out shots of dirty tootsies. [27 May 1994 Pg. 01.D]

'Burbs is a messy mix of Gremlins, Neighbors, Rear Window and Arsenic and Old Lace. [17 Feb 1989, p.6D]

Stuffing painters, writers and, naturally, Gustav Mahler (Jonathan Pryce) into about 90 minutes, the film comes off as little more than a handsomely mounted scorecard of sexual escapades.

Holmes, of Dawson's Creek, will be up the creek if she can't avoid movies like this. And so will you if you see it.

As a condescening moron who natters on non-stop in this simplistic comedy, Elliott doesn't just wear out his welcome, he nukes it. [14 Jan 1994]

A putrid film that comes dead-weighted with hammy one-liners and a plot so silly it borders on comedy?

Those who sit through this mindlessness get the booby prize.

Maybe for the next installment, they can go off to college and find something better to do than making these silly movies.

Defanged and drippy, the remake of 1939's The Women seems to have been made for the dullard granddaughters of the sassy, sharp society matrons in George Cukor's campy original.

Wastes a moderately intriguing premise by filling it with laughably clichéd dialogue, one-dimensional characters and implausible turns of events.

A cynical sex comedy that manages to be infantile and jaded at the same time.

Pytka may know how to push fizzy water, but he certainly can't make a punch line sparkle. [21 Aug 1989]

The Gambler is a hollow, overwrought and glibly cynical remake of a '70s drama about a self-destructive academic.

Can't decide what direction it's going in. Some of the time it seems to be a standard teen sex comedy. Occasionally, it appears to be spoofing the genre. It concludes on a romantic, almost honorable note.

It might be that Jarmusch (Broken Flowers) is experimenting with creating a pastiche of dreamlike sequences that audiences can interpret as they wish. Or it may be merely pretension and hubris that fuels such a stylized and insubstantial story.

The two main characters in Are You Here spend much of their time stoned or weeping. Those who watch this dreadful film may seek to escape or sink into despair as well.

The overwritten script and the ridiculous plot combine to make The Counselor a frustrating experience.

Silly, unfunny and formulaic.

Is there a word that means the opposite of Cowabunga? If so, that's the word for the charmless, dull and derivative new take on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

This is not only unsuitable for children, it's a colossal waste of time at any age.

As a director, Seagal isn't much on transition scenes. That would cut into the time devoted to knives slicing through heads. [21 Feb 1994, p.4D]

Deafening, deadening and about two hours too long, Extinction would mark the weakest installment yet of the 7-year-old Hasbro franchise — if the previous three movies were discernible from one another.

While it does offer an extremely flattering view of all things Melania, outside of a few candid glimpses, you're not really going to learn a lot about who she really is.

Just like its albino-like villains, this Village is a pale imitation. [28 Apr 1995, p.3D]

The movie tries to juggle motherly love sentiment with wanna-be snappy ripostes with a violent streak that extends to threatening a grade-schooler with blinding and busted kneecaps. [11 Oct 1996, Pg.03.D]

Isn’t nearly as funny as it thinks it is spoofing spy tropes and buddy films and making a mockery of AIDS, politicians, movie stars and working-class Brits.

Jude Law put on 30 pounds to play this slimeball. But the weightier question is, why would he bother to take this worn-out role, at any size?

Michelle Pfeiffer has made a lot of memorable movies, including many that undeservedly failed to connect with the public. Never, until Dangerous Minds, has she had to flail her way through a movie beyond all redemption, including even the prehistoric "Grease 2". [11 Aug 1995, Pg.04.D]

Yearns to be fresh but ends up tasteless. It's as drawn-out, forced and annoying as a holiday meal with a dozen carping relatives.

Catch and Release is not worth catching. Release yourself from boredom by giving it a miss.

An unseasonably cynical assault on the holiday spirit.

Rambo III is hardly the first Stallone-y baloney to climax with a commie wipeout; it is the first to palm off its star as the product of a Buddhist monastery. Like, whew. Rambo in a monastery is almost as stomach-turning as E.T. in a brothel. [25 May 1988, p.1D]

It's been a long time since a movie wasted as much talent as Stand Up Guys, a film that aims to be a geezer "Goodfellas" but whose execution is a misfire.

Goo oozes without mercy in A Walk to Remember.

Looking Glass is instead a competition to see how goofy Johnny Depp can be as the Mad Hatter and how many scenes (and hearts) Helena Bonham Carter can steal as the ragingly high-maintenance Red Queen.

The original Pitch Perfect worked so well because it was about the friendship of the Bellas amid the wonderfully weird world of singing dorks who didn't get the memo that they weren’t cool. That's now long gone, and what’s left is just way off-key.

Prince blows it here by alternately reaching beyond his abilities and sabotaging what he does well. [06 Nov 1990, p.5D]

The entire undertaking feels like a waste of time and talent.

The name is a tipoff: Club Dread is dreadful.

All the Drano in the world couldn't fix what's clogging the works in Super Mario Bros. [1 June 1993, p.6D]

Burdened with so many poky scenes that it approaches the level of the distributor's "Drowning Mona" and "Whipped," both candidates for the year's worst.

The sci-fi film's reported $175 million budget must have gone largely into loopy production design, wild costumes, outlandish hairstyles and colorful make-up. It certainly didn't go into developing a coherent script or coaching believable performances.

Unless you have a craving to watch a sluggish Ski-Doo race or want to admire Chase dressed as a hula dancer, consider this the cinematic equivalent of yellow snow.

A movie that only a father could love -- father being the late John Cassavetes, credited with Lovely's script. [29 Aug 1997]

There's probably a fall-out-of-your-seat, laugh-your-head-off comedy to be made about house guests. Meanwhile, the maddeningly mediocre Madhouse will have to do. [16 Feb 1990, p.4D]

With a varied wardrobe of retro men's finery and a hirsute upper lip, the title character of the silly comedy Mortdecai is the center of a whirlwind of horrible British accents, too much gagging, not enough good gags and weak dialogue that, while not exactly terrible, is terribly boring.

Moore goes into operatic mode as Mother Malkin, a nasty witch who morphs into a menacing winged dragon. The worst performance, however, belongs to Jeff Bridges as a marble-mouthed, curmudgeonly knight named Master Gregory.

The result is a convoluted mess that has one good twist and two good car chases. But it's hardly enough to bring this spy flick in from the cold.

The players fall into recognizable stereotypes: the big and clumsy kid, the real talent who's also a showoff, the buffoon, the gross-out guy. But no one is more formulaic than the coach. He starts out smug with the kids and ends up smitten.

The concept is so hypocritical, it's like Britney Spears calling Christina Aguilera underdressed and overexposed.

As late Christmas presents go, Reindeer Games is best left unwrapped.

The movie goes wrong from the start.

Douglas prances and chants with crimson-haired tribesmen who look like they were styled by Dennis Rodman. He talks a good game. (Why does he kill? "Because I've got a gift.") But he is trapped by the same undernourished script as the rest of the cast. Secondary characters are fleshed out so little, they should simply wear labels that say "kitty snacks." [11 Oct 1996]

If you value your time and money, find an escape clause and avoid seeing this trite, predictable rehash. The 90 minutes could be better spent doing holiday shopping.

I don't mind that Nights is a potty-mouth benchmark; crude verbiage is appropriate to the leads, as well as the film's subject matter. This is, however, an amazingly mean two hours. Even the funniest gag involves Murphy's fatal shooting of three men. [17 Nov 1989, p.6D]

Everything about this fish-out-of-water romp is tired.

The actors take a back seat to computer-generated demonic images and apocalyptic special effects.

No disinfectant could clean up this misbegotten, Americanized remake of "Les Visiteurs."

Perhaps Martin should go back to taking chances and writing original work.

Waterlogged trip to nowhere. [13 February 1998, p. 3D]

The major whodunit here is who made a best-selling thriller so darn boring.

Thunderheart, which concerns tragic in-fighting between factions of the Oglala Sioux, lands with a sound that duplicates the name of the Indian chief who harassed Howdy Doody in less ethnically sensitive times. Thunderthud. The movie is so dramatically stillborn that it may be unfair to single out Val Kilmer, but that is Kilmer's name atop an acting lineup that includes Sam Shepard, Fred Ward and Graham Greene (Dances With Wolves). [3 Apr 1992, p.8D]

While he gets points for addressing the debate, the way in which Stein goes about it undermines his efforts to be even-handed and intellectually rigorous.

One has to wonder about the mind-set of a middle-aged filmmaker who repeatedly seeks out material about amoral and promiscuous teenagers with little to say.

RZA's directorial debut is heavy on bloody kung fu action...and light on just about everything else.