By the time Melancholia finally crawls to its conclusion, his (von Trier) round orb in the sky isn't as depressing as the rectangular screen.

Through it all, Marshall sticks to his rose-colored principles: You gotta have hope, listen to your heart and take leaps of faith. Plus a new one: Parker should never make it through a movie without at least one pair of fabulous shoes.

Carnahan didn't make a movie unfit for mankind but it certainly isn't worth mankind's money.

Move along, guys. Nothing to see in The Lucky One, unless you're in the doghouse at home and need to make nice.

Two flesh-and-blood performers stand out among the machinery. One is pop singer Rhianna, looking lovely as usual despite the military gear and quite comfortable with high-powered artillery. The other is Gregory D. Gadson, an Army veteran who lost his legs to a roadside bomb in Baghdad.

Other than its campy title, not much about Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is fun.

An amoral mosaic of carnage and carnality.

The word "sappy" comes to mind, constantly. So often that I wanted to make like a tree and leaf. Frankly I'm stumped, wondering exactly who the audience is for such a drab slab of saccharine uplift.

Alex Cross is slipshod cinema hoping to capitalize on a star out of his orbit here.

Cloud Atlas, surely the most incoherent waste of time and money on screen this year.

Jack the Giant Slayer is merely cable TV fodder waiting to happen and not worth a hill of beans, magic or otherwise.

This movie never realizes how ridiculous anything it does truly is, right up to the last-second promise of another sequel.

Everybody's cyber-pal Ashton Kutcher is perfect casting for Killers, since the screenplay is shallow as a Tweet and the movie appears to have been shot with a Nikon point-and-click camera he plugs on TV.

For the love of movies, stay away.

Niccol fashioned an uninspired and downright dull sci-fi gimmick and doesn't even explain how it happened.

Most annoying is John Carter's scarcity of action. This much buck should buy more bang.

The Last Airbender makes the cartoon version with its ratchet-jawed characters and clunky animation seem like a Pixar classic.

I'm Still Here is amateurishly shot and edited, as if ineptness equaled some higher level of veracity. Ironically, it's the only Joaquin Phoenix movie anyone has cared about in years.

A comedy abomination, tasteless and useless to a stunning degree, with storied actors smugly collecting paychecks for sullying their careers.

It's all megalomaniacal junk from Snyder, but that isn't his most offensive move.

The Change-Up is the "Human Centipede" of gag-me comedies.

This messy mix of sci-fi horror and post-Superbad raunchiness didn't make me laugh once. Not a single snicker, chortle or smile.

Save the money you might spend for a ticket to see For a Good Time, Call... and just read a dive bar's restroom wall for free. That's the sub-level of comedy here, with a litany of crude sexual euphemisms and phallic images passed off as jokes.