Bob Graham

A strange mix of the campy, at least in the English dubbing, and the awesome.

For a bighearted effort like this one, some patience on the audience's part is not too much to ask. Go ahead. Take a chance.

Story pitches are made. Coke is snorted. There is lesbian sex. Fellatio. An earthquake. A murder. Just another day in Hollywood.

It is wonderful to see how Sheedy gives shape to this performance -- her eyes, a photographer's eyes, carefully sizing everything up. [18 June 1998, Daily Notebook, p.E1]

A very smart noir about gambling, smartly directed by Mike Hodges -- until almost the very end. It craps out in the decisive London casino heist scene.

At its most interesting, and a bit frightening, when Moore starts to get a little loony. Too bad they didn't follow through and make this more of a psychological thriller than a melodrama.

If this movie ever figured out what it wanted to be when it grows up, it would be a terrific one.

It's more psychological than a genre movie, and that is the source of both its greatest interest and its biggest problem.

The lowdown on Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo, Rob Schneider's first starring role, is that it is. Lowdown, that is.

When the film sticks with the eccentric comedy of a highborn woman attracted to a preoccupied genius, it works splendidly. When it strays into melodrama, it is as ill-equipped as Luzhin.

This is no-holds-barred filmmaking. Some viewers will find it disgusting. Others will call the director's bluff.

If the movie sometimes seems not to come to much either, it does have something to say to those patient enough to stick with it.

There may be no more unusual movie around than Vengo.

Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence are back together and give both of their careers some new life in this sentimental comedy.

Fascinating -- up to a point.

Rich supplies some eloquent grace notes, and Van Sant uses them to make understated music.

It's probably pointless to complain when a movie sets out to be stupid and actually is. (And the people who came up with a couple of these ideas think male models are dumb.)

It is well-made in an old-fashioned way, and its straight-arrow lack of cynicism may be old- fashioned as well.

The glossy ensemble cast is consistently interesting.

Cube falls into the dreaded trap of allegory -- aaaaaargh! -- and the clunky dialogue makes a midnight bull session seem brilliant by comparison.

Straddles a number of genres -- horror film, lovers on the lam, fairy tale -- and gives them all a cool, knowing spin.

Keeps sinking into its own grimness.

It is maliciously entertaining, up to a point.

Before it runs off track--it does have some spectacular moments.

A pleasant myth.

The picture, directed by Rick Famuyiwa, becomes a juggling act, contrasting the efforts of the three grown-up buddies to get to a wedding on time, with flashbacks of their youth.

Li is a phenomenon.

Summoning silliness Roman Polanski salutes and spoofs satanic thrillers .

Action in an action comedy is supposed to be funny, too, as Jackie Chan well knows. The refitting of the crashed plane is so tedious we feel as if we're doing the work ourselves.

In special effects, Lucas has moved a galaxy beyond. In energy, not yet.

Solondz should have called this one "So-So Storytelling."

Poetry, lesbian sex and murder might be a killer combination if a deadly pace weren't included in the mix.

The good ol' Jim Carrey we knew and loved is back, rude, crude and unglued.

It is the Eddie Murphy movie where Eddie Murphy has next to nothing to do. Do little says it all.

The first half-hour of this movie is sensational, creating an atmosphere of dread that any horror master would envy.

The film is well shot and has titillating action without a single persuasive emotion.

Hardball works where it counts, on the emotional level.

The movie's gimmick for airing the contents of a woman's head is not unlike that used for the dogs and tots in those "Look Who's Talking" movies.

Beat Takeshi fans wouldn't think of missing this one. Moviegoers who hate violence wouldn't be caught dead at it.

For quite of few of The Whole Nine Yards, it appears that the most clever thing in the movie is going to be the opening credits, monstrous close-ups of the morning toothbrushing routine.

Curiously enough plays like a 90-minute version of the old television show. That's not necessarily bad.

It is never less than interesting. But who wants interesting from a movie called Cats & Dogs? It needs to grab the audience by the scruff of the neck and shake it.

Kline, in particular, has the spark and know-how to overcome some awfully belabored writing and situations.

Brothers Oxide and Danny Pang co-directed. What they lack in discipline they make up in razzle-dazzle, even if it sometimes is pointless.

The show takes little more than an hour to finish and less than a minute to forget, while politely reminding us not only that gay movies have fallen on hard times but also that they refuse to give up.

The specifics of their predicament are well handled -- being thrown in a Third World prison may be every tourist's nightmare -- even if the movie eventually goes soft and squishy.

It comes down to a pair of appealing performers in a series of bad-relationship skits.

Astonishing visualizations of the afterlife are coupled with a drawn-out allegory about communication between the living and the dead that becomes something of a trial to sit through.

Thank God for James Gandolfini.

The warning against actors playing with dogs or children should be expanded to include men in gorilla suits.

The lead actors on both sides of the vampire divide are all strong personalities.

Wants to be a brightly colored bubble but has trouble getting aloft.

It's good for a few guffaws and chuckles, but in between the screen has a tendency to stretch at the corners and go flat.

Has all the elements of a satisfying movie except knowing when to stop.

Appealing, and ultimately moving.

At least a half monty.

Amusing enough.

Not half-bad. It's about three- quarters bad, actually, but what's left offers some goof-off fun.

There are times when watching this film is like a near-death experience.

Adam Sandler finally has a good excuse: The devil made him do it.

Won't work until the film comes out on video.

Handsomely weathered John Hurt, as Pelagia's father, gives a performance of such unhackneyed dignity that it provides a moral compass for the action and helps to keep the ricocheting emotional content of the film in balance.

There is a very good movie stuck somewhere on The Thirteenth Floor trying to get out. Too bad this isn't it.

Manages to do the impossible: It makes Lopez bland.

Don't tell Mom, but everybody seems stoned.

Even if his (Stallone) own star may be fading, the popularity of car racing is enormous. These fans are not likely to be disappointed by Driven.

Gutter romance meets metaphysical thriller.

It's called One, and the hemorrhaging begins with the so-called story, which doesn't quite add up to one.

This land of sweetness and light may appeal to many, but to some it is going to seem like living hell.