An unfortunate movie that does an embarrassing disservice to the decades-old property and is a frightful waste of all the talent involved.

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.

Almost in spite of itself, Little Man manages to deliver big laughs. It's not enough to make it a consistently funny movie, but this one-trick pony from the Wayans brothers has flashes of humor and sincerity that almost save it from its disastrous ending.

It's so derivative, unfunny and thuddingly bad that it's one of the more cringe-inducing movies of a genre chock-full of clunkers.

The concept is unoriginal, the scenarios aren't funny, and its message is banal. Plus, Murphy alternately hams it up and phones it in.

For every really cool interaction Downey's hero has with one of his animals as a caring listener, there's either an over-the-top spit take or an eye-rolling cheesy line of dialogue.

Eventually evolves into a murder mystery that isn't very compelling.

Perhaps Look Who's Leaking Now would be more apropos: Dirty diapers are replaced by pooch puddles in this second sequel. [5 Nov 1993, p.4D]

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

Even by teen gross-out movie standards Van Wilder makes "Sorority Boys" look like "Some Like It Hot."

The 1992 phenomenon was creepy, tense and sexually charged in a bold yet tawdry way. This sequel lacks even a shred of those elements.

The movie's biggest drawback is a failure to deliver what's promised.

This unfunny, über-misogynistic adaptation of Tucker Max's audacious best-seller of the same name is unlikely to please anyone.

Until it coughs up a ridiculously convoluted explanation of why an isolated town in Colorado suddenly goes deader than a weekday matinee of "The Postman," Phantoms delivers the shivers.

Poor Sharon Stone! Poor Sidney Lumet! [22 January 1999, Life, p.11E]

Madonna's directorial debut, Filth and Wisdom, feels more like a collection of scenes than a fully drawn film.

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

It saves its clunkiest scene for the finale. No fair telling, but the key words are "political," "propaganda," "outdoors" and "orphans."

Earth to Earth's young director, Mark Piznarksi : It's tough turning straw into gold, isn't it?

Wenders creates an imaginative, stylized cityscape, but what's missing is the compelling story that could bring the setting to life.

It tries to pass itself off as a film about feistiness, forgiveness and the bonds of motherhood. Instead, it deals lightly and inappropriately with promiscuity, alcoholism, drug abuse, grief and child molestation. Georgia Rule doesn't make you feel good; it makes you queasy.

The characters and plot lack even a shred of credibility.

The bad-taste murder farce is just an excuse for a bunch of actors to go slumming and ride about in - ha, ha - Yugos.

A weak whinny of a horse opera tailor-made for those who can't quite locate "Young Guns" or "The Long Riders" in their video store.

It's an idea that might have made for a mildly intriguing skit, but blown out into a full-length feature it's at best campy and at worst an amateurish, sentimental schlock-fest.

Friedberg, who previously made Nielsen's golfing video and rental car commercials, knows only the low road -- and gets lost anyway. [24 May 1996, Pg.04.D]

Mothers deserve a much better break than the hectic, shrill and dismally unpleasant Moms' Night Out.

Fred is DOA, but he and the Diceman will kick up a storm at December's 10- worst time. [24 May 1991, p.7D]

Funny how Madonna borrows Everett, Julia Roberts' gay pal from "My Best Friend's Wedding," and Bratt, Roberts' real-life beau, to be her co-stars. If only she could borrow her talent.

Desperately conceived by even the most insipid standards of contemporary teen-queen cinema, A Cinderella Story operates under a rotting pumpkin of a supposition.

A little bit of charm is precisely what this movie has to offer. A small dose is better than none, but you can't help wishing there was more to go around.

When the most notable thing a film offers is the sight of Dennis Farina in drag, you can't expect much.

Perhaps there was a clever germ of an idea here, but the five credited writers didn't develop characters, scenarios or rules in this sci-fi world well enough to engage the audience.

Even if the script delivered, the film would frankly be overwhelmed by the volume of noteriety that has attended it. [3 Sept 1993]

A moviegoer's only defense against Jason is to avoid theaters showing this gruesome and derivative movie.

When Kevin Costner goes into sensitive-guy mode, beware.

MTV addicts may want to check out Shore, whose sound effects (akin to electrical interference) amuse for maybe five minutes. Otherwise, Encino Man is even worse than Medicine Man, which came from the same studio. In a just society, both of them would go the way of Atlantis Man. [22 May 1992, p.12D]

Who knew such a seamy swim in the misogynistic swill of life could be so entertaining?

As buddy pics go, this is pretty much not even worth a single look, let alone a double take.

Strange Magic is strange all right, but hardly magical.

Filled with laughable dialogue, Abduction goes nowhere.

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

Put an infinite number of monkeys in front of an infinite number of word processors, and one of them may indeed write War and Peace, as the old theory goes. But more likely, they'll come up with something like David Mickey Evans' screenplay for Ed. [15 Mar 1996, p.5D]

Gere has never seemed more squirrelly.

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

Destined to be on DVD by the time 2004 reaches the 50-yard line, Ten is more stale than it is ungodly.

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

As in "Arachnophobia", director Frank Marshall can't decide whether he's making a thriller or a laff-it-up lark. [09 Jun 1995, Pg.03.D]

If Sandler felt compelled to take on a role immortalized by Gary Cooper, at least it wasn't as "Sergeant York," "Lou Gehrig" or the sheriff in "High Noon."

But this isn't Diceman's feat of clay. Instead, Ford Fairlane runs fairly well on high-octane silliness. [11 Jul 1990, p.4D]

Bride Wars is about as funny as a cringingly awkward wedding toast.

An air of self-congratulation hangs over the empty tank of gas called Jawbreaker, as if writer-director Darren Stein just can't wait to dazzle us with the gaudy visuals he's soldered onto a standard-issue black-comedy script.

This isn't the worst movie Warner Bros. has brought out this summer (Scooby-Doo, boo on you), but for it to work, you have to accept the irredeemable stupidity of almost every character. Time better spent: a Shaquille O'Neal film festival on video.

Someone should have treated See Spot Run like a bone and buried it.

Pure wish-fulfillment for Shaq-watchers who can't get enough of their 7-foot-1 basketball hero. [17 July 1996, p. 9D]

The filmmakers, who include the hitherto ace action director Jan De Bont ("Speed", "Twister"), have neither hearts nor minds in gear. [13Jun1997 Pg.04.D]

Ultimately the title is most revealing. It's hollow, man.

The best that can be said about the film is that its naturalistic look and dark hues are occasionally intriguing, and its twist is fairly unpredictable, if far-fetched.

For such a clumsy and (I'll bet) likely-to-be-panned comedy, Her Alibi has its moments - more, certainly, than its painfully silly trailer suggests. [3 Feb 1989, p.4D]

Enraptured by bathroom humor that doesn't even reach sophomoric standards. It's more on the level of preschool.

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

Vanilla Ice was fairly amusing striking terror into Debbie Gibson when they were perversely cast as co-presenters on the last Grammy telecast. On the big screen, though, he all but exudes irreversible brain damage, as if he's taken too many noggin spills off a motorcycle. [25 Oct 1991, p.4D]

Before you go off to see The Wizard with your own video whiz kid, consider visiting an arcade instead. Your entertainment dollar would be much better spent on Double Dragon. [15 Dec 1989, p.6D]

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]

Another 48 HRS. doesn't offer a whole lot beyond Eddie Murphy, Nick Nolte, and Walter Hill's action-scene flair, but are you telling me the first 48 HRS. did? Bottom line: Eddie-Nick enthusiasts and Paramount accountants won't cry 96 tears. [8 Jun 1990, p.1D]

Furry Vengeance is a slapstick stinker, easily the worst movie of the year.

Amazingly, amidst the smutty silliness, there are some laughs.

An unseasonably cynical assault on the holiday spirit.

A comedy that has one good joke, four strange cameos and a spirit so juvenile kids may wonder what Sandler's deal is.

Tedious, unromantic, sophomoric and only sporadically funny.

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

Here's ringside entertainment for those who think TV wrestling is too intellectual and restrained.

Anything goes, though director Ronny Yu keeps the idiocy on a fast pace.

This is the worst kind of movie, one that insults its audience by purporting to condemn violence while simultaneously reveling in it.

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.

Myopic Whitey, continually passed over for a lifetime achievement athletic award, bears a passing resemblance to Columbia's all-time No. 1 animated star, the nearsighted Mr. Magoo. It's nice to think that if he ever went to this movie, he wouldn't be able to see it.

Steven Seagal's acting style is so minimal that we can almost believe a script that tells us that his character's near-death experience left him flatlined for 22 minutes.

Love Stinks is what bad network TV comedy would be like if there were no censorship and less talent.

This genre stew throws in so many ingredients - including sundry body parts that are cut off and go flying, and heads that explode - that the result is a tasteless mash-up that's hard to stomach.

That's what The Bounty Hunter has rustled up -- along with a listless rom-com, a feeble thriller and a supporting cast of clueless characters.

It's just too soon after those silly talking dinosaurs to put up with any movie about a talking horse.

This Paramount release doubles the insult because it rips off the title of one of the studio's best-remembered Jerry Lewis comedies.

Not just stupid, but brain dead.

OK, Time Warner, a joke is a joke, but the time of tolerance has passed. Get your creatures out of our faces unless you're willing to regale us by afflicting them with Mad Pokémon Disease.

Sitting through New Year's Eve is like attending a crowded party filled with pretty people who have nothing to say.

There's a fun retro camp to Hercules, with nods to classics such as Ben-Hur and Spartacus, as Hercules finds himself rowing slave ships and crossing desert expanses.

A car-chase clunker that can't escape its own noxious emissions.

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.

For a comedian (Allen) who often seems to be calling it in, he's more lackluster than usual. Curtis is a bigger disappointment, especially after "Freaky Friday," in which she was funny, smart and cheeky.

It's still the same sick story. Even the small touches seem stale.

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]

It's so-so. As in mediocre. Even gross-out comedies need the stink of genius.

Suspense takes a vacation in sequel. [13 November 1998, p. 6E]

The two m's in 8MM could stand for "messy melodrama." [26 February 1999, Life, p.5E]

Would not even make a decent five-minute TV sketch. At any length, it smells.

Killers is dead on arrival: miscast, horribly paced and murderously uninvolving.

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

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.