D.J. Caruso

Willfully stupid and obvious for most of its running time, this serial-killer thriller lulls the audience into one gasp-worthy, rug-pulling moment that, while stupid, isn't exactly obvious.

Fails on the scores of credibility and originality, but since it's nearly as thrilling as it is unlikely, the picture works out to be trashy fun.

So colossally ridiculous (and transparently derivative) that willing suspension of disbelief is a fool’s errand.

No creative inspiration gets in the way of the beautiful people running and jumping and kissing while things go boom in the forgettable teen sci-fi actioner I Am Number Four.