Jonathan Foreman

In fact, for long stretches, especially during the first hour, it's as soporific as watching a bank of security cameras.

Very, very funny, albeit inferior in a number of ways to the original.

The "Jurassic Park" movie franchise does not evolve. Quite the opposite: It degenerates at great speed.

A quietly compelling documentary that is refreshing in both form and content.

Comes closer to what a Bond movie should be and once was.

Like "Beneath the Veil," it gives a human face to those who have suffered from the Taliban's tremendous cruelty, and those who have been maimed in the war to end their rule.

Oddly undramatic.

Though not as witty or accomplished as you'd expect from its pedigree, "Le Divorce" provides welcome relief from the lame-brained trash Hollywood has foisted on the public this summer.

Fluffy, inconsistent, but enjoyable.

While Star Trek: Nemesis isn't nearly as good as the best Nicholas Meyer-written movies like "The Undiscovered Country," it is far from the worst, thanks to the topical issues it raises, the performances of Stewart and Hardy, and that essential feature -- a decent full-on space battle.

Thanks to the amateurish, spectacularly talent-free quality of its cinematography, direction, writing and acting, Emerald Cowboy is simply impossible to sit through.

Bleak, demanding stuff, and its hand-held documentary-style photography is harder on the stomach than "The Blair Witch Project."

It is often as powerful as it is elegantly shot. Unfortunately, Szabo tends to tell this rather predictable tale in an obvious yet uneven way.

Bereft of inspiration, the agonizingly witless screenplay - blamed by the credits on George Gallo - resorts to pathetic cheap jokes about flatulence and impotence, lame slapstick and that juvenile gag about the horror of two men waking up naked in the same bed.

Travolta is terrific as a bad guy, making Saint almost sympathetic. His co-stars however, flounder in a sea of bad lines, with poor Romijn-Stamos getting stuck with the worst.

A lame, glossy and disastrously misconceived film about three ditsy sisters dealing with the death of their horrible father.

Unashamedly vulgar and exuberantly politically incorrect.

Audiences may find that the deliberate, Kubrickesque pacing -- without his intellectual rigor -- causes them to tune out.

A cute, often very funny romantic comedy and an effective vehicle for Matthew Perry.

By far the best and cutest thing about How the Grinch Stole Christmas is the dog Max.

For the most part, it's both sitcomishly predictable and cloying in its attempts to be poignant.

A gleefully cunning comedy.

It too often looks and feels like a high-concept home movie, thanks to cinematography that's crude and ugly even by the standards of documentary video. But Group is also a remarkably believable piece of improvised theater.

This film of mistaken identity, murder, class envy and (bi)sexual tension doesn't live up to its own promise.

Has its heart in the right place -- and in a season filled with somber or goopy Oscar contenders, it makes a perfectly decent date movie.

Fake-sounding dialogue, some over-deliberate performances and five amazingly trite linked stories.

Moves at a leisurely pace, and it cries out for a narrator or even just an organizing principle.

Cinematographer Darius Khonji does a superb job of conveying both the sensual beauty (there's a spectacular moonlight-on-the-water sex scene with Leo and the lovely Ledoyen), and the darkness of Richard's paradise lost.