As much as Hollywood tries to give moviegoers quality films, a number of flicks usually miss the mark. There are sequels that nobody needs, stories too dopey to believe and films — usually aimed at kids — that are nothing more than marketing schemes to sell toys.
Here, The Post’s film critics offer what they found at the bottom of 2019’s cinematic barrel.
Worst movies of 2019 — Johnny Oleksinski
“The Kitchen” — When the wives of 1970s Irish mobsters take up their incarcerated men’s racket, you won’t feel like you’re in Hell’s Kitchen — you’ll be in hell.
“Men in Black: International” — There are more than a billion trillion stars in the observable universe. “Men in Black: International,” however, got only one.
“UglyDolls” — Another lousy entry in the worst family film genre: “Be Yourself and Buy Our Merch!”
“Poms” — For a movie about senior citizen cheerleaders, cheer was in very short supply.
“Cats” — A ruinous adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Broadway hit, “Cats” jelli-killed my spirit.
And the disaster of the decade is . . .
“The Emoji Movie” — All the world’s cynicism, brand obsession and loss of innocence crammed into an unbearable 86 minutes.
Worst movies of 2019 — Sara Stewart
“I’m Not Here” — J.K. Simmons, as a sad drunk, wanders morosely around his house as aimlessly as this movie shuffles through its flashback paces.
“Domino” — Director Brian De Palma scrapes the bottom of the barrel with this retro cop thriller, squandering the charisma of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Game of Thrones’ Jaime Lannister) in the process.
“Playing with Fire” — This kiddie comedy, starring John Cena, Keegan-Michael Key and John Leguizamo as baby-sitting firefighters, is all wet.
“The Mountain” — You know a movie’s bad when even Jeff Goldblum’s best efforts at quirk are in vain. This indie about the heyday of lobotomies is just, dare we say, mind-numbing.
“Murder Mystery” — Still unsolved: Why two of America’s best-loved comic actors (Jennifer Aniston and Adam Sandler) signed on to a project this lame — although Netflix’s viewership numbers provide a big clue.
And the disaster of the decade . . .
Garry Marshall’s holiday trilogy “Valentine’s Day” (2010), “New Year’s Eve” (2011) and “Mother’s Day” (2016) — rom-coms overstuffed with stars and hammy plots that make the Hallmark Channel look Shakespearean — represented the very worst of the film industry’s< practice of churning out garbage with big-name actors in a shameless cash grab. And all three clunkily hammered home the forced-cheer ethos of their respective holidays, to boot.