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All things considered, there’s nothing here that we couldn’t find done much better and quicker in a random Highlander: The Series.

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Normally I would take a horror movie about an armless knife thrower with a grain of salt, but I gave The Unknown the benefit of the doubt, considering that it was directed by Tod Browning and starred Lon Chaney — the gruesome twosome that by that point had not only made a silent film about a ventriloquist, but made it work.

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There are two lines of dialogue in Being the Ricardos that caught my attention. One is, “I literally said that 30 seconds ago,” and the other, “It takes fewer words to say that than the truth.” This film feels like a lot of the former when it should be more of the latter.

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Here is a movie that is bad not just because of its low quality, but also because it literally lacks goodness; one is tempted to ask, like Joseph Welch, ‘Have you no sense of decency, sir?’

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Here is an undeniably talented innovator, but also a clearly unbalanced and disturbed individual. It all begins very innocently, though; when enthusiasm overwhelms him, John Kricfalusi is as lively as his characters, and the candor with which he describes discovering as a child the mechanism through which a drawing comes to life is genuinely fascinating.

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Embrace of the Vampire is a teenage wet dream come true for anyone who first felt their loins stirring while watching Who's the Boss. The two stars of this erotic horror story are arguably Alyssa Milano's breasts — which, like a pair of Norma Desmonds, were ready for their close-up.

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I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead is so tone-deaf that its most shocking, uncomfortable scene is actually not the one where Malcolm McDowell ass-rapes Jonathan Rhys Meyers.
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According to an opening caption, 247°F is “based on true events.” That must mean that it’s based on people who accidentally lock themselves in a sauna in general, because the characters in particular don’t really come across as real persons.

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This film amounts to nothing much other than a reminder that 'even Homer nods;' David Mamet wrote and/or directed some of the best films of the ’90s-to-mid-2000s, and even his comparatively lesser work could never be accused of dishonesty or malice. However, with this one it becomes clear that this is the Al Pacino movie that should be called The Devil’s Advocate.

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Early on in Of Human Bondage Philip Carey (Leslie Howard) is told, “You will never be anything but mediocre.” Soon after, Mildred Rogers (Bette Davis) is described as “anemic … ill-natured and contemptible.” Neither will ever do anything to disprove these assessments.

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I have mixed feelings about The Day of the Jackal. On the one hand, I’m a proponent of what I like to call The Evil Iceberg Theory (in a nutshell, the less we know about the villain, the better); on the other, the non-rhetorical question “who the hell was he?” — made in reference to the antagonist — is not exactly the last thing you want to hear after almost two and a half hours.

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I’m unsure what After Yang tries to accomplish (does it want to be a cautionary tale about the evils of privacy-violating technology? A gentle meditation on the nature of memory? The manifesto for a hypothetical AndroidLivesMatter movement?), but I do know that whatever it is, it fails.

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Sugar Hill is considered the second installment in scriptwriter Barry Michael Cooper’s “Harlem Trilogy.” It is also the weakest link, not necessarily a bad thing when the chain also includes New Jack City and Above the Rim (we may, to a certain extent, attribute the varying quality among the three films to being each directed by a a different filmmaker); unfortunately, it isn’t all that good in a vacuum either.

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Paradise City has no relation to the Guns N’ Roses song of the same name other than it’s arguably the worst Bruce Willis/John Travolta collaboration since Look Who’s Talking, which was released the same year as the GNR single.

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As far as I can tell, Infamous strives to satirize the extremes to which people will go for followers and ‘likes.’ The problem, other than targeting low-hanging fruit, is that the movie tries to illustrate its point with a situation that could never happen in real life.

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No film can be bad that has been directed, photographed and edited by Steven Soderbergh, and stars Don Cheadle, Benicio del Toro, Brendan Fraser, Kieran Culkin, the late great Ray Liotta, Bill Duke, and Matt Damon.

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Befitting its title, The Lovebirds seems to have been made by people with the brainpower of a very small, feathered, theropod dinosaur.

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There isn’t the slightest trace of virtuosity here — or even, for that matter, of competence —, whether in front of or behind the camera, except for what Anthony Hopkins brings from his own unlimited personal reserve.

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A minor yet not altogether unsuccessful incursion from director Kathryn Bigelow into the kind of testosterone-laden genre that even on an off day she does better than many a male filmmaker.

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Do Revenge is Mean Girls meets Jawbreaker meets Heathers by way of Strangers on a Train. Needless to say, nary an original thought went into making this movie.

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JP

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