One of the most violent opening scenes in screen history…Yet given such a visually adept exercise, the rest seems transparently off-the-cuff. There are obese trailer-camp porn stars, heavenly visions, a climactic rendition of Love Me Tender and no-point references to The Wizard of Oz - all of which top this two-hour farrago like a soggy tarp. [17 Aug 1990, Life, 4D]

If you value your time and money, find an escape clause and avoid seeing this trite, predictable rehash. The 90 minutes could be better spent doing holiday shopping.

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

Leaves a bad taste, not only because of its bad-luck timing, but also the staleness of its script.

Don't put yourself through this hell.

Less a movie than a mind-numbingly dull road trip.

The real shocker is how many grown men it took to conceive and write this lamebrained tale.

A glossy wisp of a cautionary tale.

The best actor in Snow Dogs is a glowering Siberian husky named Demon. In fact, all the dogs in the movie do a better job than their human counterparts.

Can't stars attract better scripts than this?

A cynical sex comedy that manages to be infantile and jaded at the same time.

This is about Meg. Only about Meg. Meg in the Middle.

It would appear that director Scott Kalvert never met a cliché he didn't like. No telegraphing is too obvious or simplistic for this movie.

Someone has seen "Trainspotting" too many times, and it's writer/director Justin Kerrigan.

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

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

Calling a cave of rocks home while spouting invective worthy of the Juilliard attendee he once was, homeless-by-choice Samuel L. Jackson worms his way into one of the least compelling mysteries in years.

A mongrel of a movie.

Audiences everywhere will tune out long before the projector does.

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

Neither the actors nor their characters engender much affection.

The actors take a back seat to computer-generated demonic images and apocalyptic special effects.

Unless you have a craving to watch a sluggish Ski-Doo race or want to admire Chase dressed as a hula dancer, consider this the cinematic equivalent of yellow snow.

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

Sometimes laughably incoherent.

Begins sinking in the shallow end almost at once.

When movies have degraded to the point that Tyson is acting more than Quentin Tarantino is directing, maybe it is time for an industry shutdown, strike-induced or otherwise.

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]