Possibly the sourest revenge movie ever, Audition starts off as a sweet, low-key romance, then abruptly turns into a grisly, sadistic thriller.

Feels like reading someone else's diary. Undoubtedly, there's some very important stuff in there, but it's most interesting to the person who wrote it.

What's most notable about this aggressively cynical project is how much talent it wastes.

The performances are expert, but can't make up for a flat script and direction. Unless you, like Claire, are a glutton for punishment, we suggest you choose nothing over something.

While it's visually stunning, the pretentiousness makes it hard to take seriously.

A few relevant themes do bubble up from this visually intriguing swamp of self-indulgence, but Arquette's pseudo-philosopher seems to speak for Almereyda when he says, "If there was a point, there wouldn't be a story."

The film does deserve credit for juggling difficult racial and class issues - but with a wacky score, cute puppies and silly side stories also jockeying for space, Bamford's best intentions tumble to a heap long before the movie ends.

Novice director Lucky McKee wrote the first draft of this labored horror flick while he was in school, and for a student film, it's not bad. But it's not ready for the big time.

Every movie's gotta have a gimmick, and Crank's is that it has an excellent shot at ending 2006 as the worst film of the year.

While all four leads deserve better, it's especially galling to see Burstyn - still so lovely - wasting her time and talents on a film with so little wisdom to share.

Cusack is excellent as Joan, the only woman in the film who values a girl's brains over her body, so it's a shame Fywell treats her with amused scorn.

Unfortunately, the visuals are not compelling enough on their own to hold our interest, and a highly mannered Derek Jacobi is all wrong as the narrative voice of Nijinsky.

A flashy homage to a dozen better movies, this self-conscious Hong Kong action flick is so packed with visual thrills, you may not notice that there's absolutely nothing beneath its impressively slick surface.

Just because Dimension considered Greg McLean's nasty exploitation flick worthy of their time and money doesn't mean it deserves yours.

Lighter on horror than it is on inadvertent humor.

Madhur Jaffrey and Faran Tahir fare considerably better as Nina's conservative mother and brother, leaving us confused ourselves: Why didn't Patel focus on them, instead?

The sort of slick-looking indie that plays well at film festivals, this heavy-handed boxing drama is really just a flyweight bulked up on cliches and false sentimentality.

It's not unusual for a Henry Jaglom film to fall into a black hole of narcissism, but he has outdone himself with his latest, a satire on Hollywood's unshakable self-absorption.

At heart, "BSM" is no different from the midnight movies of the '60s and '70s that reveled in a head-spinning blend of blatant exploitation, provocative racial commentary and overwrought performances.

Alternates between being amusingly pretentious and studiously dull.

While plenty of gross-out comedies have come and gone in the last two decades, Leslye Headland's Bachelorette may be the most vulgar of them all.

This Spanish sequel to a 2007 cult hit uses the way-overdone conceit of videotaped terror.

Who could have predicted that one day we would long for the relative subtlety of “Twilight”? Richard LaGravenese’s Beautiful Creatures is so outrageously florid, Bella and Edward’s baroque courtship looks understated by comparison.

The best part of this proudly absurd experience is the music.

At its best moments, the film offers a tender portrait of the park's youngest regulars, charmingly earnest performers from a nearby music school. But then, inevitably, their stories fade into a backdrop, as his camera turns to catch yet more women sunning in the square.

On the bright side, Ivan Reitman's disappointing new comedy isn't just cheap and formulaic, but so forgettable few people will even remember she (Portman) was in it.

This time around, the cult director dispenses with the feminism, the satire, and even the issues, so he can concentrate on his true passion: the dissecting.

Subtlety has never been Perry's strength, but his previous films balanced the sermonizing with good humor and sincerity. Perhaps next time, he'll ease up on the lectures, and bring back the love.

The movie eventually chokes on its own pretensions.

Ever been on a blind date that you knew would be dismal from the start? Well, this is the movie version of that date, stretched out over the slowest two hours imaginable.

You may want to wait and watch "Never Land" the way it was meant to be seen -- as a straight-to-video baby-sitter.

A great idea that never gets off the ground.

Does little more than re-create the oppressive feeling of suffocating employment. And why put yourself through that experience without the promise of a paycheck at the other end?

Just like its increasingly wan antihero, this blood-soaked series is on its last legs.

Though the central blowout is as epic as advertised, so is the movie's self-congratulatory obnoxiousness.

Goldberger's stubbornly insular script - adapted from a novel by Harry Crews - might have fared better on stage, where the story would feel more contained than suffocating. But by the time you crawl across this finish line, you'll know just how those sluggish the birdsfeel.

A tacky 'Fatal Attraction' for the lesbian set.

None of it makes any sense, but it is just nutty enough to provide a few (entirely unintended) laughs.

Despite catchy animation and a few intense scenes, there's simply nothing here we haven't seen before.

The Box is its own kind of awful, a disconnected mess that never finds its reason for being.

The full title of this animé import is WXIII (Patlabor the Movie 3), and if you think the name's confusing, you may want to spare yourself the work of figuring out the film itself.

The truth about Lies is that it's a case of art-house porn being more porn than art.

A mediocre movie that will be wiped from its stars' résumés with head-spinning speed.

With so little action or even insight, Marathon is far too long at only 74 minutes. Perhaps for the sequel, we can come along as Gretchen watches paint dry.

And though Samantha is written as a sly spoof of Ashlee Simpson, Faris frantically overplays her. She might have taken a tip from Smart, a lovely, understated actress who wastes too much time in lousy films.

Could easily be just another episode of "Hey Arnold!" the TV show. Except that it's three times as long, and not half as much fun.

An exhausting combination of generic thriller, political tract and sentimental weepie.

It must be said that everyone - including Dominic West and Rosamund Pike -- works awfully hard to entertain us. But that just makes it all the more depressing when joke after joke falls painfully flat. Stay home and introduce your kids to Mr. Bean, instead.

Brooks' shallow screenplay feels half-finished, and he never compensates with additional guidance or directorial flair. So all his actors are forced to flail about ineffectually. Apparently, none of them read the script in advance. Because surely then they'd have known to take a pass.

It's interesting in the same way the early, rejection episodes of "American Idol" are oddly compelling. But, of course, you can watch those for free.

Sets out to be a social critique but settles for smug disdain.

Hartley's satire of consumer-driven sexuality is undermined by the straight-faced decision to cast affectless model Tatiana Abracos as the heroine.

Perry's characters have always been drawn with broad strokes, as heroes or villains. In this case, all the villains are young women, and all the young women in this film-without exception--are monstrous.

Regrettably, neither cast nor crew is able to save it from itself.

The filmmakers were too busy throwing together potential blockbuster material to notice all the loose ends and gaping holes in logic. Which may, ultimately, explain why Willis looks so confused throughout. Maybe he, too, is straining to locate some intelligence amid all the machinery.

Don’t be fooled by the smoke and mirrors. There is nothing here that is great, or powerful. Worst of all, there’s nothing here that even feels like Oz.

A patronizing, self-satisfied piece of work, Funny Games is Michael Haneke's way of chastising us for blindly following the traditional rules of entertainment.

As it turns out, the only truly interesting element about this clichéd surfer flick is that it was made by celebrated directors Michael Apted and Curtis Hanson.

Director Andy Fickman seems to have thrown everything into this artificial comedy, in the hopes that something might stick. Almost nothing does.

Southland Tales does have enough energy and audacity to suggest significant potential. But was it ready for public consumption? The answer is no. It's as simple as that.

Stambrini puts so much weight on shock value, she overlooks the matter of emotional resonance.

In fairness, the new movie from the Lorne Michaels machine does have its amusing moments. It's just most of them can also be found in "Napoleon," "Talladega Nights," "Eagle vs. Shark," and any installment of "Jackass."

So misguided as to be genuinely mystifying, Jeff Stanzler's queasily blended political psychodrama isn't simply a lousy movie. It's also a lousy movie that boldly exploits the events of 9/11.

Unfortunately, this strained comedy relies entirely on clichés and contrivances to tell the story of Sherman.

There are a few funny jokes scattered throughout, but the halfhearted direction and clunky script are underscored by performances that feel like they belong in community theater.

Both written and played in broad strokes, each character quickly devolves into the most simplistic of symbols. The results comes across more as an agenda than art.

Neither chimps nor children should be subjected to such shabby mediocrity.

Since there's no suspense whatsoever, we're simply stuck with awful people doing awful things to each other.

Well, you've got to say this for Death Race: It knows what it is and doesn't apologize for it. What it is, incidentally, is junk.

With its amateurish performances and sloppy script, Hey, Happy! has the homemade feel of a cult movie, but very little of the charm.

Competent in the extreme, the talented Jolie would make a great Jane Bond. But mired in this joyless orgy of preposterousness, her biggest challenge is simply keeping a straight face.

It's an ugly affair overall, but at least you can say you've never seen such beautiful shirts.

Albatross is the kind of movie that looks good, begins with promise, and then nosedives into deep disappointment.

Anyone hoping to engage even a single brain cell, however, is out of luck. Which is too bad, since popcorn blockbusters don't actually have to be mind-numbingly stupid or soul-suckingly empty.

This off-putting satire is a jumble of misguided ideas that gather like lint in the navel of self-obsessed director Philippe Caland.

A bizarrely off-key animated comedy.

Why would so many accomplished women waste their time and talents on a movie as counterfeit as Mad Money?

Other than those related to cast and crew, it's difficult to imagine who else would sit through Ry Russo-Young's self-obsessed indie.

Unless you're struck by the urge to watch strangers work out their petty issues in couples therapy, it's hard to find a compelling reason to sit through Gregg Lachow's irritatingly self-absorbed indie drama.

Unless your own horoscope recommended wasting two perfectly useful hours of your day, take a pass.

We're bombarded by witless racial clichés, stale sexism and homophobia and enthusiastic celebrations of extreme flatulence.

Director and screenwriter Adam Brooks, adapting Jennifer Egan's novel, doesn't seem to understand what makes a movie relevant.

Hoping for a little emotional manipulation with your popcorn? Look no further.

Thirteen-year-old boys big enough to sneak into R-rated movies are presumably the prime audience for this witless comedy from the Broken Lizard troupe.

The movie veers so wildly between being zany and grim, we're left feeling more empty than entertained.

If karma exists, Alvin and the Chipmunks must be Lee's punishment for appearing in the likes of "Jersey Girl."

Mystifyingly bad given the talent involved, Southlander is an in-jokey, hipster escapade that appears to have been made on a drunken weekend because there was nothing better to do.

Dev Anand's unintentionally hilarious Bollywood romance would be considered terrible by any artistic standard, but it serves as proof that sometimes the worst films make for the most fun.

Though topnotch actors often can elevate mediocre material, they need a topnotch director to help them do it. Steve Carr ("Dr. Dolittle 2") is not that director.

This lackluster outing is mostly just a retread of past glories.

Would that the film were as interesting as the setting.

The result feels as if she (Trish Doolan) gathered all her friends, turned on her camera and let them loose. Which is perfectly fine, if you don't expect anyone to pay to watch the finished product.

Writer-director Claudia Myers' clunky debut feature makes the case that first-timers should probably focus on either writing or directing.

Turns out to be as heavy and earthbound as an injured dragon.

Racist, misogynistic and breath­takingly cynical, Ernest Dickerson's clichéd crime drama Never Die Alone shamelessly exploits the degrada­tion of its irredeemable characters.

The marvelous Dussolier makes a poignantly aging lothario, but Fillieres is so off-puttingly strange, we don't really care what she thinks about.

Dano is a talented actor who needs to aim higher, and it should go without saying that Deschanel can do - and should know - better.

One of those factors must have settled upon the unlucky shoulders of Stephen Frears, who certainly has the pedigree to go all the way. And yet, he stumbles so badly with Lay the Favorite, his comic adaptation of Beth Raymer's memoir, that one is left wondering what could possibly have gone wrong.