But even fans of the original directed by scare-fare king David Cronenberg won't get much of a buzz from this Son of the Fly sequel. It seems that wit and originality are traits that skip a generation. [13 Feb 1989, p.4D]

Feels about as fresh and lively as a piece of burnt rubber.

This sequel to the clever and funny first "Transformers" not only is disappointing, it will give most people a throbbing case of metal overload.

Bonds are tested and feelings hurt, but who really cares? The story takes predictable turns, embraces clichés and dodges all humor.

Whatever reason Denzel Washington may have had for deigning to grace a melodrama as scummy as Virtuosity, the actor has wound up with something that is even worse than 1991's Ricochet in his otherwise creditable filmography. [4 Aug 1995, p.4D]

It's problematic enough that the movie's lead characters are unlikable. But worse is the blackening of The Human Stain with a trite and forced plot, uninteresting digressions and clunky direction.

The last name Blart may be the funniest thing in the movie, so that's a hint as to just how bad this shopping-center saga can be.

What once was spontaneous and clever now has the stench (in Conehead-speak) of rotten chicken embryos. [23 July 1993, p.5D]

Not even scaremeister director Wes Craven can awaken this story. Murphy's pale efforts are enough to make one fondly recall Blacula. Now that was one sucker who knew how to make a film that didn't. [27 Oct 1995, p.4D]

The screenplay is thin, the dialogue lacks nuance and the acting is often laughable.

The young Pigeon turks who no doubt think they've made a hip black comedy should be forced to see it in a theater of non-sycophants, where only an occasional exasperated exhale signifies the audience isn't dead yet. [25 Sept 1998]

Here's a by-the-playbook movie if ever there was one.

Can't stars attract better scripts than this?

Life Itself is a real downer when it comes to death: A few are so out-of-nowhere that it’s like the hipster version of the “Game of Thrones” Red Wedding.

It's déjà vu all over again. There isn't much more to say about "We Own the Night 2." Oops, make that Pride and Glory.

This second installment, based on Veronica Roth's series of YA novels, feels cobbled together and less focused than 2014's Divergent, and lacks tension and excitement.

The joyous gallows humor and horror-movie commentary of old are gone and some inspired working-in of new technology falls apart.

Kevin Smith shows up briefly as a lab technician in the miserable Daredevil, and that's a pity. This is a movie that desperately needs the presence of Smith's trademark sidekicks Jay and Silent Bob, with Smith as Bob, ragging worse than ever on his old pal Ben Affleck.

Close your eyes during this miserable romantic comedy.

After a half-hour or so, your clicker finger will be itching. Too bad you can't zap around the other multiplex screens. [17 Aug 1992, p.4D]

In a summer filled with dumb comedies, this might prove to be the dumbest. Think "Road Trip" meets "City Slickers." Then dial the humor down a few notches, and you're left Without a Paddle.

Sitting through this movie is worse than being locked in a room with a continuous loop of "Nip/Tuck" playing on a jumbo screen.

While this third installment offers a jot more humor (mostly unintentional), the action scenes are disjointed, badly staged and mind-numbing.

Clumsy, miscast thriller.

It's all mind-numbingly dull, and critics have exhausted every electrical pun known to man in saying that "Current War" "lacks spark."

Flyboys doesn't succeed as a wartime adventure story or as a period romance. Even the special effects, set in a historical context, are too ho-hum to save this over-long and tedious film.

Underdrawn and overheated, Cool World will leave you cold. [13 Jul 1992]

A mostly dreadful reboot by director Camille Delamarre (Brick Mansions) that casts English youngster Ed Skrein in Statham's role as well-dressed driver-for-hire Frank Martin.

Becomes exceedingly disgusting when it wallows in the psychological torture of a child, a no-no under any circumstances.

Sitting through the teen skateboard comedy Grind is, well, a grind.

Feels like an especially grisly Twilight Zone stretched to five times its length, features Das Boot's Jurgen Prochnow as missing author Sutter Cane and such screen-schlock reliables as David Warner, John Glover and Bernie Casey. None remotely remedies Mouth's bad breath. [03 Feb 1995, p.4D]

Coy to a fault, the movie collapses under its own weight with 90 minutes to go, despite Robby Muller's impressive black-and-white photography, which puts the film on a higher artistic plane than other equally unbearable movies. [16 May 1996, Pg.06.D]

Labor Day feels like a belabored, sappy slog.

This is a noisy, sadistic and just plain dull rendering of a too-often-told tale about a mysterious drifter who rides into a lawless outpost and pits rival gangs against each other. The plot, based on Akira Kurosawa's samurai classic Yojimbo, isn't so much dusted off by writer/director Walter Hill (Wild Bill) as propped up. [20 Sep 1996]

When it comes to being brainless, The Skulls is at the head of the class.

If you can't find a more scintillating brand of dirty to enjoy during your own nights (Helena or Hoboken), you're not trying very hard.

What is most troubling is how this film can serve to shape perceptions for impressionable kids. Young girls and boys will think that non-stop make-out sessions is all it takes to sustain "endless love."

Ultimately, it's just too long and redundant, too violent and unpleasant, too stupid and full of itself. But otherwise, lordy. [19 May 1989, p.4D]

The pirate ship has hit foul waters, and even the sharp wit and charm of everyone's favorite buccaneer can't save it.

The Rookie is Clint Eastwood's ultimate cops 'n' robbers fantasy, where all the cars are sex machines, all the guns shoot loud and hard, and real men say things like, ''Wanna guarantee? Buy a toaster.'' [07 Dec 1990, p.4D]

First-time director/writer Richard Stanley hammers together chunks from films past to form a clunky horror show that never rises to the level of its source material. [14 Sep 1990, p.4D]

Post Grad is a collection of unfunny, insipid and predictable vignettes in search of a movie.

The scariest thing about this appalling and seemingly endless movie is that you paid for your ticket and now have to sit through it.

Talented actors are wasted in a film that induces more cringes than chuckles as women old enough to know better act like horny sailors on leave, absorb mass quantities of alcohol and drugs, and generally behave horribly.

The film aims to be a Gen Z/millennial “This Is Spinal Tap” but with much less clever wit and way more vocal fry.

John Wick serves up a noxious, clashing blend of hyper-realistic and cartoonish violence. Too bad there's no cinema decontaminating service that can wash our memories clean of such useless gore.

The dialogue is beyond clichéd, and performances feel cobbled together from other movies.

Fighting seriously lacks punch.

A quagmire that reportedly has undergone multiple edits to reach its current incomprehensible state.

For all its faults, Justice is never boring. But it's such a battering experience, you may find yourself checking your own body for bruises before leaving the theater. [16 Apr 1991, p.6D]

The jewels in the buried treasure, once sighted, look fake. But the bigger problem is how artificial the whole story feels.

Blue Steel is unpleasant and wearily predictable, a near-unbearable 103 minutes even for fanciers of urban cop films. Its one distinction, lead Jamie Lee Curtis aside, is its backhanded bone-toss to feminists: Now we know that women, too, can direct serial-killer crumminess. [16 Mar 1990, p.4D]

If Gooding can't get another "Boyz N the Hood" or "Jerry Maguire" soon, his career will need its own cork.

On paper, this sounded like a winner. In reality? We have met the Enemy at the multiplex, and he's silly. [08 Feb 1991, p.4D]

The Wal-Mart of cinematic soap operas. One-stop shopping for your emotional movie needs.

Really just an update of the kind of hapless grade-Z effort that once played the bottom half of a drive-in double bill.

So leaden and obnoxious that it actually makes you long for the John Travolta of "Old Dogs."

Vile, violent and less hip than it thinks it is.

Its use of trite "Win one for the Gipper" dialogue, overbearing soaring music and conventional plot devices makes it far too formulaic to truly move us.

Rain pours, snow flies, the sky is cloudy all day. Every corridor is steeped in shadow. But the artful atmosphere goes to waste as Robinson (best known for the quirky Withnail & I) skimps on character, drags out the action and stacks up overly convenient clues like dirty dishes. [6 Nov 1992, p.8D]

By the time the movie reaches its protracted conclusion, it feels like a slog. Pacino has a few funny lines, as does Leguizamo, but not nearly enough to save the film from collapsing under the weight of its own self-righteous tedium.

You're bound to have more fun working overtime than watching Employee of the Month.

Is this a comedy, action pic or sensitive Belushi-Harris romance? Director Rod Daniel never establishes a definitive tone, though he comes close in the scene where James Brown's I Feel Good hits the sound track after some canine fornication. You don't need a dog to smell this. [28 Apr 1989, p.4D]

Mowing the lawn might be more involving than watching this subpar sci-fi sequel, which manages to be complicated and witless at the same time. [15 Jan 1996, p.4D]

Director Steve Buscemi is not to be faulted for his filmmaking or acting skills, but as co-writer he could have done better than the false-sounding dialogue.

Inventing the Abbotts would be a lot more fun were it a trashy Troy Donahue-Diane McBain vehicle ground out by Warner Bros. in 1960, the year this hormonally motivated high school-college romance mercifully concludes. [4 April 1997, p. 4D]

For a movie that touts the importance of humanity, Green Lantern is a strangely lifeless spectacle.

One of those movies that goes for a jarringly new emotion every 30 seconds or so while the story's foundation is collapsing.

Grudge could have saved itself with a rousing finale, but the buildup is so tedious you just want the fight to end.

It's too bad more energy wasn't devoted to fleshing out the one-dimensional characters and crafting a decent script. The only reason to catch this harmless diversion is for the group dance sessions.

Can't scare up a decent plot.

Usually, I'm as slow as the pacing of a movie in figuring out who's done it. If you can't solve this mystery with an hour to go (as I did), better call for a transfusion so a better type of blood will start flowing to your brain.

Life is a crock -- or something like it.

A glossy wisp of a cautionary tale.

Given its predictable story, the only reason to see Stomp is for the rhythmic step dancing.

The Great Wall crumbles mainly because of its wholly predictable plot, wretched dialogue and dud of a filmgoing experience from noted director Zhang Yimou (House of Flying Daggers).

Yet another Alan Alda unoriginal original. [22 Jun 1990, p.2D]

Revolution tries a few plot moves, but, narratively, it has two left feet.

It takes more than an awkward title attempting to sound cool to overcome its mundane plot and silly dialogue.

Except for a brief episode in which singer Chris Isaak and Kiefer Sutherland make like an FBI Rocky and Bullwinkle, this is a morbidly joyless affair. You'll feel as drained as one of Cooper's mugs of joe watching homecoming queen Laura drown in a whirlpool of sex and drugs. [31 Aug 1992]

What Edwards doesn't bring to the party is an entertaining story. Something about a princess abducted by evil Robert Davi, who has done some great movie bad guys, but seems uninterested here. Benigni deserves another chance to strut the stuff that has made him a box-office phenom in Italy. [31 Aug 1993, p.5D]

Too bad the movie didn't take its own advice and risk coming up with a fresh story.

Nothing about this rote exercise feels remotely fresh. It's a re-tread of the 2009 original, sans the inspired lunacy.

Begins sinking in the shallow end almost at once.

It really would take a love potion to fall for this lifeless comedy. [16 Nov 1992]

Predator 2 won't be the worst turkey at theaters this Thanksgiving. But it certainly gobbles loud and often enough. Its makers - whose previous smash-crash hash includes 48 HRS., Die Hard and both Lethal Weapons - go to great lengths to camouflage this bird with ultra-violent dressing. The plot is one bloody showdown after another, on rooftops or in subway cars. [21 Nov 1990, p.2D]

Hollywood must still have some wheezy hacks capable of gleaning a few chuckles out of the hoary Convicts-Disguised-as-Priests movie premise. But to paraphrase Groucho Marx, Someone, please, get us a hack; David Mamet's We're No Angels script can't find them. [15 Dec 1989, p.6D]

From the embarrassingly over-the-top performance of Ray Liotta as a tough-guy biker to the pratfalls of William H. Macy as a bumbling computer geek, this movie stinks of exhaust and desperation.

When it's not aspiring, unsuccessfully, to satirize the world of metallica, Rock Star veers into even drearier territory and becomes a head-banging, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll version of "A Star Is Born."

There's not a cliché that isn't nailed.

This is by far Kaufman's worst outing since becoming a major filmmaker more than a quarter-century ago, and the fact that his only other stinker from this period is 1993's "Rising Sun" means that maybe he ought to stay away from cop melodramas.

Some screwball moments elicit a chuckle or two, but the script is weak and the characterizations clichéd.

Writer/producer John "Home Alone" Hughes, the Marquis de Sade of kidcom, and director Les Mayfield manage to squeeze the very bounce out of what should have been a can't-miss update. [26Nov1997 Pg09.D]

Shyamalan isn't drawing the caliber of performances from his actors as he used to. Who can forget Haley Joel Osment's haunting portrayal in The Sixth Sense or that of Toni Collette, who played his mother, or Bruce Willis in arguably his best role?

Navy SEALS no doubt fancies itself as being taken from today's headlines, but ''taken from the pages of a Chuck Norris script'' is more like it. [23 July 1990, p.2D]

Ostensibly meant to be light entertainment. If light is synonymous with preposterous, frenetic and noisy, it qualifies.

Slavishly follows the well-worn and soggy Sparks path.

Though the lead actress, newcomer Jordana Beatty, gives a spunky performance as third-grader Judy, her character's borderline bratty charm wears thin fast. Mostly it's undercut by the movie's irritatingly antic slapstick style.