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]