Metacritic reviews

It all sort of comes apart in an orgy of clumsy over-explanation that doesn’t truly explain anything. But the quintet is well-cast.

Besides being an early contender for the worst date movie of 2015, The Loft is a film that can’t decide what it wants. It’s a male fantasy, and a cautionary tale. It’s sleazy in concept, and timid in execution.

Whatever fun there might be in the guesswork is wiped away by the realization that Van Looy has made a puzzle for a puzzle’s sake, to no discernible thematic end.

For the most part, The Loft struggles to engage even on the level of tawdry potboiler, joining the forgettable ranks of 2005’s "Derailed" and 2008’s "Deception" as yet another underwhelming one-night stand.

The five leads earn kudos for their ability to come across as something approaching credible.

This long-delayed would-be erotic thriller is a shabby bore that promises viewers any number of kinky thrills and then proceeds to deflate those expectations.

There’s no redeeming this softcore nonsense, which plays like a script that “Storage Wars” stumbled across in Joe Eszterhas’s old locker.

Erotic thrillers are a time-tested genre, but this effort, scripted by Wesley Strick, is neither erotic nor thrilling.

This silly chamber piece about sex and murder elicits only yawns, interrupted by the occasional unintentional giggle.

All the men's wives are shrews, prigs or doormats; all the conquests doe-eyed blonds with sucked-in cheeks. All the dialogue is as witty as this exchange: "You're a sick f---!" "No, you're a sick f---!" They're all sick f---s, frankly, and the actors are dreadful while playing them.