F. X. Feeney

Here, the volcanic villain behaves like a smart terrorist, taking over almost immediately and holding a collection of excellent actors (Tommy Lee Jones, Anne Heche, Don Cheadle) hostage for two hours of "real time."

Though the film overall is as disposable as a hot dog, it is just as enjoyable.

A fascinating tragedy, easy to underrate.

The film works, cleanly, without any tiresome reliance on computer graphics.

At its best, there's a strong (albeit live-action) echo of Charles M. Schulz's "Peanuts" in Little Manhattan. The movie's hero, Gabe, is a world-weary 10-year-old who addresses us in eloquent voice-overs. Like Charlie Brown, he's in love with a red-headed beauty.

What is surprising, and what one takes away most deeply and happily from Triumph of Love, is a refreshed admiration for Mira Sorvino.

First-time writer-director Paul Morrison has a gift for evoking a time and place.

Less a movie about stepfamilies than a PSA about how cancer makes everyone behave themselves at Christmas.

Taymor has done an inspired job of resurrecting one of Shakespeare's unruliest works, just in time for the new century.

As with "The Blair Witch Project," one must swallow one's irritation at paying yet again for big-screen video -- but even so, the spectacle of an America falling apart is acutely and hilariously embodied by Dawn.

A smoothly structured, earth-toned and well-drawn Japanese anime.

Inglis offers complicated characters and uniformly worthy performances without falsely manipulating us into sympathizing with anybody but tries too strenuously to fuse his warring polarities of character-driven intrigue and plot-driven treacheries into an allegory of redemption. In the end, that feels like one or two big things too many.

Goei's sharp-eyed satiric sense evokes the diversity and energy of Singapore, and his good-humored nostalgia makes disco rise from the dead.

A snappy, delightfully balanced bit of historic whimsy.

An abbondanza of busy, situation comedy twists that snip one's suspended disbelief and send it crashing like a chandelier.

The romance and sheer fun that Where the Money Is packs into its swift 89 minutes follow from the sweet surprise that neither is threatened by the other.

A near miss overall, but enjoyable in its littler particulars.

Well-tuned wisecracks and clever plot twists.

Some of the performances are remarkably natural amid so much farce.

To their great credit, writer Benjamin Brand and director Greg Harrison weave these contradictory variations into an effective puzzle, if one that doesn't quite transcend being a puzzle - it never becomes a mystery, like, say, "Mulholland Drive," or even "The Sixth Sense."

The interactions between the realms of the magical and the everyday are carried off with an easygoing charm.

Overall, King of the Jungle never quite achieves a necessary, culminating insight about charity, or mercy -- though Leguizamo's performance puts one in reach.

There isn't a moment in the film that isn't overhyped.

Janssen proves herself an actress of delightful range.

Silver, manages the deft balance of making Seagal seem both genuinely courageous and charmingly blockheaded.

A happy vulgarity still reigns.

A cleverly plotted, cleanly crafted matinee item -- pure entertainment on a romping continuum with Frankenheimer's "Ronin."

As powerfully as the film lingers in the mind, one can't help wishing he were led just a bit more by his heart.