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I’m not saying that “an eating thing” and “body stuff” aren’t a worthy subject, but then the fact alone that co-writer/director Brittany Snow couldn’t even bring herself to call a spade a spade is symptomatic of the film’s superficial handling of the material.

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What are we to make of a film that features not just the old Red Digital Readout, but also an Ill-Timed Sneeze? All that’s missing is Scooby and the gang.

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Life Like takes its literary cues from Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and Pinocchio (by way of A.I. Artificial Intelligence). It would have benefited the script to be more of the former and less of the latter.

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Blind Date Book Club is about a girl from Nantucket, but being a Hallmark romcom, telegraphing the ending is the only thing it has in common with a dirty limerick.

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Any movie called Monster Mash is obviously not meant to be taken or to take itself seriously; still, this is not nearly as much fun as a movie called Monster Mash ought to be, mainly because it doesn’t know whether it wants to be homage or parody.

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Healed is damn good stuff if you can get past the exposition-heavy first act. When you name a character Jazz Powers, that she used to be a pop star kind of goes without saying.

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The takeaway here is that you should get a life before you make a film about your life, and if you’re just going to make shit up, at least come up with an interesting lie.

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A short, economical gothic spectacle beautifully shot in bright, lush exterior locations and musty, dusty, candlelit sets and with plenty of female frontal nudity — a veritable triumph of style over substance. The plot, meanwhile, is downright moronic, and purporting that EAP had anything at all to do with it doesn’t make it any less dumb.

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The problem with How to Date Billy Walsh is not that it puts the pussy on a pedestal. It does put the pussy on a pedestal, and it is a problem, but what truly dooms the movie from the beginning is that it overtells an overtold tale.

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The Beautiful Game is about the Homeless World Cup, which sounds only slightly more legit than the tournament from Dodgeball. I won’t make fun of it, though, because I suspect that’s what the filmmakers would want me to do; it was all a game to them, and they did everything in their power to prevent the audience from taking it any more seriously than they did.

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A watered-down pastiche of such mid-to-late 1990s entries as Lolita, Cruel Intentions, and Wild Things, minus the cheeky zest that turned those movies into sordid little masterpieces.

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Radical is Mexico’s belated answer to Stand and Deliver, Lean on Me, and Dangerous Minds. If you have ever seen a Spanish-dubbed version of any of those movies, then you also have, for all intents and purposes, seen Radical.

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King Kong vs. Godzilla is a silly little satirical sci-fi B film. It’s also 16 minutes shorter and about a million times better looking and less fucking stupid than Godzilla vs. Kong.

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Cessationist is a veritable unicorn: a skeptical Christian documentary. Mind you, the film is skeptical in the same way that a Christian who has no other gods than Jehova is an atheist in the eyes of all those other gods; in other words, the movie believes a lot of weird shit, but it doesn’t believe all weird shit.

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For a comedy that includes a joke about nude pics, Zoey 102 is surprisingly and disappointingly prudish — especially considering what Zoey 101 had us accustomed to. Pray tell, how come this TV-14 movie features so much less skin than the original TV-Y7 show?

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Here’s a movie so starved for content that the opening crawl detailing the island’s backstory is followed by an eight-minute enactment of said backstory. In an 80-minute movie, that’s 10% of the total runtime as well as roughly the equivalent of eight pages of the screenplay.

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A better title for French Girl would have been La Belle-Famille Part Quattre — La Belle-Famille being the Québécois title for Meet the Parents, of which the tediously generic French Girl is especially, and shamelessly, derivative.

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Instinct exists in a mirror universe caught between Manhunter and Red Dragon — and, mirrorlike, it’s all surface and no substance.

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Merlin and the Book of Beasts is a lost opportunity. A bestiary that is both a compendium and a grimoire, imprisoning the very “monsters” that it catalogs, is a fantastic fantastical concept. Sadly, the magic just wasn’t there.

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No one ever called the original Road House a thinking man’s action flick, but they might now thanks to this dumbed-down remake. Think about that for a second. Think about what it entails to dumb down fucking Road House — and somehow they did it; a lot of people get socked in the face in this movie, but it’s the filmmakers who seem to have been punch-drunk.

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JP

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