Baby Mama confirms that if Tina Fey is in something she didn’t write herself, it just ain’t funny.
Babylon A.D. seems like the aftermath of an artistic apocalypse.
College is the nadir of homophobic frat-boy humor.
Ping Pong Playa proves that Chinese-Americans are not immune from the national stunted-adolescence crisis currently plaguing white comedy protagonists.
Leave it to Disney to bring a film back to life over and over again just to make a buck.
Redbelt may or may not be Mamet’s best feature, but it is most definitely his least sycophantically written.
Its flaccid, formulaic fantasy is at least more entertaining, and progressive, than the E!’s rancid The Girls Next Door.
Excise the most entertaining elements from Roger Corman and Paul Bartel’s Death Race 2000 and what you get is Paul W.S. Anderson’s Death Race.
Like Mamma Mia! and herpes, the inspirational sports drama just won’t die.
The film is a slab of shoddy, hollow rubbish that can’t be bothered to concoct imaginative frights.
Rocker is merely a passable goof-off, and one less challenging or fun than a night spent playing Rock Band.
Fly Me to the Moon is in 3D because, without the glasses-required effects, not even a three-year-old would sit through it.
No wonder George Lucas originally chose, with his Star Wars prequels, to skip over the Clone Wars.
Smart People is—nah, too easy.
Felon won’t rock your world but may endear you to more than just Stephen Dorff’s abdominal muscles.
Alex Holdridge’s In Search of a Midnight Kiss mostly feels like a foregone conclusion.
The fantasyland-set script has a habit of wrapping up serious situations through flippantly easy shortcuts.
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor makes the first two Mummy films seem like The Godfather I and II.
This wannabe badass biker flick plays like a Kill Bill–Death Proof hybrid minus the genre-deconstruction angle.
The film is further confirmation that not every minor story from a subculture necessitates cinematic interpretation.