George III

What a disappointment. It would have warranted four, maybe even five stars, until the ending completely botched it, made the entire effort worthless. It grudgingly got two stars because it kept my interest until the Ted Danson character didn't return to tie it up. Evidently he was out of contract or had something (almost anything) better to do. Perhaps he could have answered the question of why they would even have bacon in the house?

What with the incessant fixation on rape and other sexual brutality perhaps it should have been better called Outhouser!

Formulaic and predictable but well-paced and well-acted with some good twists. Worth watching.

A fabulous film. Totally authentic, realistic, well paced, subtly acted.

Well acted by both but very unrealistic - the many empty highway scenes between the airport and the tunnel demonstrate the fantasy of the entire enterprise.

Masochists rejoice! This is what you've been waiting for if you've longed to watch unmitigated crap. Who writes such fecal matter? Oh wait, it's the reigning master of cinema excrementa, M. Night Shyamalan, someone who specializes in producing huge piles of dung most but not all of the time, Sixth Sense the sole exception. The rest of his 'oeuvre' is one disappointing turd after another and Trap continues the tradition. Makes you think someone ghostwrote the exception, doesn't it? Josh Hartnett, however, deserves the one star - truly an exceptionally good performance in an otherwise preposterous excuse for movie.

I only made it 49 minutes into it before this trite bit of nonsense had me fall into a complete stupor. Ms. Lohan is way to old to play the ingenue despite or possibly because of the Botox and surgeries as she demonstrates that she has little or no acting chops anymore that is if she ever had any. A really sad, horribly acted, poorly written, cliché-ridden albeit beautifully photographed travelogue: make you yearn to see Ireland but not the rest of this sloppy excuse of a movie. Time to retire again, Lindsay.

Lots of plot holes that the inept Metropolitan Police failed to uncover. They should have asked Lestrade, seated at the desk to their left, to bring in the consulting detectives at 221b Baker Street. Spoiler alert: The Jarlsberg: Our protagonist didn't clean the shotgun when he returned it but surely someone on the estate was responsible to after every use. Despite needing hearing protectors when they went shooting, no one heard either of the two discharges - at least several minutes apart - when the crimes were perpetrated. His gym bag would have reeked of cordite when he checked it at the theater or when he brought it home with Chloe. He didn't have an alibi for the time he went to/from or was at Nola's flat and had told his chums in the office that he was going to play tennis when clearly he didn't as those at the club could attest. NTL, grudgingly, two stars for elegantly connecting the net ball at the beginning to the ending.

So shallow, it's profound. So black, it's white. So pointless, it's meaningful. Yes, that's what some critics say. My question is how Croninboob get supposedly intelligent actors to recite such gibberish?

Dreadful? No, way past dreadful. Incomprehensible plot with lots of unnecessary characters, unresolved plotlines that weren't needed (except for a mini-series that needs padding), huge plot holes, zigging and zagging, everyone sleeping with anybody, boozing it up, smoking pot and taking pills (which somehow don't affect anyone except for a single phenobarbital tablet that take effect instantly). Altman did it way better in '79 and even that wasn't really any good. Don't waste your time on either.