David Sterritt

The first half packs some clever surprises, but eventually you'll wish you'd signed up with another movie.

The thriller's best and worst features all stem from a highly unusual plot structure that builds to a genuinely startling conclusion.

Impressively filmed but not dramatic enough to justify its length.

The story takes place in 2013, but you'd hardly know it from the age-old clichés Kevin Costner purloins to tell this overblown action yarn, which relies so heavily on ideas borrowed from John Ford westerns that the Hollywood giant should have been credited as codirector; too bad Costner can't invest them with Ford's kind of life and originality, though.

The documentary is revealing and chilling, although it doesn't explore the inner workings of the American criminal-justice system as thoroughly as one might wish.

Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith give uproarious comic performances as government agents ordered to keep New York's monsters in Manhattan, where they'll blend right in with the rest of the confusion.

The picture often rambles as aimlessly as its characters, but its vivid depiction of alienation and self-destructiveness among suburban youth has much cautionary value.

The overall effect is imaginative but overambitious, though Troche unquestionably has cinematic talent.

A change from summer fare, but it doesn't make the picture compelling to watch. You won't find the detail of the "Godfather" films or the psychological complexities of Martin Scorsese's gangster movies. The plot holes are big enough to hide Al Capone's illicit millions in.

The infuriating thing about XXX isn't that it delivers thrills and spills to moviegoers who don't know any better, but that its Hollywood hype reinforces the notion that brain-dead entertainment is what movies are all about.

It's surprising that so much material, so many moods, and such an interesting cast end up making such a small, unmemorable splash.

Watching Demme's documentary is both a crash course in the nation's tumultuous past and a provocative visit with one of its most colorful citizens.

The picture is equally long on eye-dazzling camera work and New Age sentimentality.

Some of his theories seem cockamamie compared with current intellectual norms, though, so it's too bad the filmmakers don't give him time to make a coherent case.

Written and directed by Deepa Mehta, this Indian production is not filmed very interestingly, but reveals much about conflicts between traditional and modern attitudes in Indian society.

Daft, excessive, boring.

Witherspoon fills the screen with bright-eyed bounce. The rest of the cast is as forgettable as the flimsy story.

Eddie Murphy does his patented routines effectively, and the dialogue has some pungent moments, but the movie doesn't succeed as the "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" update it would like to be.

It's picaresque, all right, but full of ethnic stereotypes, and filmed much too blandly to compete with the superb ''Black Stallion'' of a few years ago.

A bit too neat and calculated to make the emotions ring really true.

This sensationalistic tale doesn't delve very far into the issues it raises.

It sounds like what it is: a modest, workable story for a modest, workable picture. And that's one of the things that make Broadway Danny Rose so likable. The film's very lack of presumption lifts it above the common run of noisy farces and pretentious romances so plentiful these days. [09 Feb 1984, p.29]

This kind of quiet ambiguity, avoiding easy answers to complex human conflicts, is all too rare in American movies.

Parents will yawn, but younger children may enjoy the fun. [09 Aug 1985, p.24]

Brando made one of his most indelible impressions in this relentlessly dramatic, ever-controversial tale of loyalty and betrayal in the world of working-class unions.

De Niro and Hoffman almost give comic life to this brainless, vulgar farce.

Far from a great film, but it certainly stretches the envelope.

Old-fashioned storytelling.

Put Roeg's powerful cinematic style on the cultural map.

Its ideas are worth pondering, but as a movie it's less memorable than its interesting cast suggests.

Flashy but uninvolving crime thriller.

Christopher Hampton's film conveys the basic plot of Joseph Conrad's sinuous novel but loses the book's sardonic tone and psychological depth.

As directed by Hugh Hudson, the movie isn't workaday for a second, with its epic scale and awesome vistas and all. Instead of enhancing the story, though, the niggling details and dignified touches just slow things down. [12 Apr 1984, p.33]

Hilarious, frenetic, and touching, but stereotyped and superficial in its treatment of both homosexuals and conservatives.

The film isn't quite excellent, though, since it sags in the middle and starts to seem repetitive.

Despite his fascinating subject and an impressive cast -- Sayles lets his story drift in too many directions, as if he'd lost his Florida road map somewhere along the way during his travels.

The settings and visual effects are imaginatively done, but the dialogue is silly and the plot is a mishmash, with echoes of everything from the "Aliens" movies to Michael Crichton's novel "Sphere," which pushes similar buttons a little more intelligently.

Bowfinger is mediocre . . . can be irksome, tedious, and hard to sit through.

Equally fascinated by the afflictions of life and the usually squandered opportunities these afford for courage and self-sacrifice.

Most of the characters are one-dimensional, and Avary's over-the-top directing doesn't make them interesting for more than a few isolated moments.

Kevin Kline gives a tremendously likable performance as the ersatz president, and Sigourney Weaver brings charm and elegance to the role of First Lady who's as ignorant of the switcheroo as the rest of the country.

Was this spiritless stuff really directed by Paul and Chris Weitz of "American Pie" fame? How the rebels have mellowed!

Paying homage to drug comedies of the '70s, Half Baked is high on getting high and low on laughs.

A well-made entry in the fashionable caper-movie genre, which has gathered steam lately with "Ocean's Eleven" and others.

Smart, funny, stimulating.

The plot is a shameless plea for vigilante violence, and the dignity of the black hero is outweighed by the ethnically marked evil of his Hispanic antagonist. Beneath its crisp veneer, much of the movie is a high-energy hymn to hate.

Lachow goes for cuteness and whimsy every chance he gets, missing a lot more often than he hits.

The archival and interview footage is priceless.

Malkovich is wryly amusing as German director F.W. Murnau, and Dafoe steals the show as a vampire playing an actor playing a vampire.

The picture goes for sentimentality rather than substance every chance it gets, and the cast falls right into its syrupy trap.

Funny, sad, and tinged with magic realism, this ambitious comedy-drama is as original as it is nimbly directed.

The most startling aspect of this slow-building horror movie is how unexpectedly it morphs from a quietly romantic suspense yarn to a flat-out tale of terror that may have some viewers hiding under their seats.

Magical movie, which has brilliant fun with the contrasts between film and theater, love and infatuation, reality and fantasy.

Iran's greatest filmmaker is fond of stripping personalities bare through conversations they have while riding in cars. Here he pushes his favorite dramatic device to its limit.

Solid acting helps the story stay earthbound when Aronofsky's filmmaking gets addicted to its own flashy cynicism, but the picture sometimes seems as dazed and confused as the situations it wants to criticize.

This colorful time capsule of a movie was directed by Van Peebles's son, who appeared in "Sweetback" as a child and doesn't minimize the difficulties his father's underfinanced dream entailed for his hard-pressed family and friends.

Meant to be a romp in the old Ken Kesey tradition, it's more like a dull drive with a bunch of leftover flower children.

Buoyed by Lili Taylor's explosive acting, the movie paints a vivid portrait of Warhol's eccentric universe without stinting on lurid details and outrageous behaviors.

The screenplay provides enough cute one-liners and love-struck speeches to give the comedy intermittent charm.

Stoner jokes, awful gags, and just stupid stuff equate to one bad movie.

Has touching and instructive moments.

Although the film's Guatemalan and Mexican portions include much effective storytelling, the long American episode is the most stirring.

An astonishing human, political, and historical document.

Written and directed with uncommon sensitivity by James Mangold, a strikingly talented newcomer.

Kids may yawn at the movie's dawdling pace.

Each minidrama is quietly touching and compassionate, and Riker is honest enough to avoid suggesting easy solutions for the social, cultural, and personal challenges his characters confront.

Murphy gives one of his more-restrained performances, which suits the mood of carefully contained mayhem established by Steve Carr, the director.

Absorbing but disturbing documentary.

Where's the real 007 when we really need him? Or better yet -- Calling Inspector Clouseau!

Obviously a profoundly personal film, but it's also a smartly conducted tour through the world of building and design that Kahn towered over during the most successful phases of his career.

Humans, it seems, weren't meant to tamper with some things. This picture makes you wonder if cinema is one of them. [14 Nov 1986, p.27]

It's conventional in approach and sometimes sentimental, even corny, in its content. But there were so many fascinating overtones in Mr. Charles's life and career that any account of them is bound to be riveting at least part of the time.

The cast is just right for this mini-"Godfather" yarn, and Gray's filmmaking is generally on target even if it does tend to dawdle along the way.

The movie means well, but neither its emotions nor its performances ring very true.

Fantasy-style plot doesn't mesh easily with the unsettling psychological themes woven through it.

In both its original 1973 version and its expanded 2000 edition, this hugely popular horror yarn is less a cleverly spun story than a disjointed collection of shockeroos, surrounding a few ghoulishly effective moments with overcooked plot twists and in-your-face vulgarity. [2000 re-release]

Roddam's minor but imaginative 1979 movie.

Never quite catches fire.

What keeps The Mosquito Coast from being a great movie is too much caution.

Scott's filmmaking is as blunt and bullying as the mayhem it portrays.

The comedy is tooooo loooooong for the two or three jokes it has to play with, and Kinnear does the picture's only three-dimensional acting.

This superbly filmed Italian drama stands with Bellocchio's best work. Originally titled "Ora di religione."

The setting is cramped and the story is illogical, but it's suspenseful as long as you don't think about it very hard.

LaBute is coming of age as an artist, and his future looks brighter than I ever would have suspected a year ago. Enfant terrible or not, he's starting to become a substantial figure in American film.

It tells its story crisply, and it doesn't hesitate to exlore the seamy side - i.e., the money side - of the racing game, along with the usual stuff about galloping to glory.

The film may be too talky for action-minded viewers and too fantastic for more serious spectators, but it brings appealing twists - including a feminist sensibility - to the venerable martial-arts genre.

Articulate interviews and an unusually creative visual style make the picture as lively to watch as it is illuminating to think about.

The movie is as adolescent as it sounds, but Kahn keeps your eyes popping with truly nonstop action and some of the most outlandishly inventive effects you've ever seen. And of course Cube is so supercool it's worth the price of admission just to watch him.

Like the Oscar-nominated "Seabiscuit," though, Miracle fails to ring true as it tries to make a sporting event an all-embracing metaphor for the American way.

Fans of unregenerate underground moviemaking will have a ball.

The acting ranges from adequate (Jared Leto, R. Lee Ermey) to awful (Lindsay Crouse and everyone else).

Everyone tries very hard to make the story sweet and funny, but the soggy screenplay defeats them every time.

Filmed in a quietly impressionistic style and splendidly acted by a well-chosen cast, the movie would be a top-of-the-line entertainment if its delicately balanced perspective weren't marred by a few moments of racially insensitive excess.

Hanks and Ryan are as appealing as ever, and Ephron's fashion-conscious camera gives the action a slickly attractive sheen.

Falls flat on screen, weighed down by far-fetched plot twists.

While the story has few surprises, parts of it are amusing and the performances are convincing.

The movie is more striking to watch than to hear, more interesting as a tone poem than as a drama. In the end, it's a half-successful film on a subject that could have been all fascinating.

Directed by Charles Shyer, who brings much imagination to the first half but loses all momentum in the homestretch. [04 Oct 1984, p.27]