Jonathan Foreman

But even that talent (Freeman) isn't enough to distract you from the general predictability of Spider or the absurdity of its elaborate last-minute plot twists.

At first, it seems stagy and slow and even to verge on the pretentious, but the film steadily accumulates dramatic power as its carefully sketched characters reveal their internal lives. By its end, After Life has developed into one of those haunting movies whose scenes can pop back into your consciousness hours or days after you have seen it. [12 May 1999, p.56]

Bowfinger's terrific set-pieces... more than make up for the odd weak moment or thin performance.

It feels less predictable and derivative than it is, thanks to Gus Van Sant's deft direction and two fine central performances.

Quirky and good-natured, it makes the most of an unknown but able and refreshingly international cast. And for a low-budget indie, it looks remarkably good and moves along with real snap.

A languid but refreshingly real depiction of female adolescence.

If you've never seen a "masala" musical, you may find Lagaan hilariously bad. Cartoony acting, dreadful dialogue, obvious dubbing, and meandering but ultrapredictable plots are simply part of the Bollywood package, along with six musical numbers and a bizarre mixture of romance, comedy and melodrama.

Resembles a period version of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" - played dead straight.

You won't see any film this year as beautiful, and plain thrilling as Apocalypse Now Redux. Watching it after sitting through this summer's record number of dumb, dreadful movies is almost a painfully good experience. [3 Aug 2001, p.30]

It's frightening enough, to be sure, but too often it feels like a well-executed but rote exercise.

A rather crude affair that feels like a student film, due to performances that often lack conviction and would-be "street" dialogue that rings false.

You can tell this is a smart take on Hamlet from the first wordless opening shots.

Honest but also derivative and crude.

Initially amusing but finally sour sex comedy.

Powerful, important and refreshingly straightforward documentary.

Visually flat and uninteresting and too often feels like a (leisurely paced) filmed play.

It's a shame that the book "We Were Soldiers Once . . . And Young" fell into the hands of writer-director Randall Wallace ("Braveheart"), a filmmaker who wouldn't recognize subtlety and understatement if they were to attack him in the street.

Boring and irritating, and also mildly offensive in its ignorant depiction of both Judaism and Catholicism.

A crass, mechanical attempt at a thriller that should have gone straight to video.

A hokey, overblown and deeply unsatisfying movie.

A strange Gallic imitation of a Woody Allen comedy, replete with a neurotic older hero.

A crude, manic and embarrassingly unfunny satire that feels off from beginning to end.

This oddly scrambled new version eventually falls apart so badly you feel embarrassed for the people who made it.

The most effective moments in Taymor's gorgeous, surprisingly romantic Frida are those that evoke the visual world from which Kahlo's work was formed or the paintings themselves, often using clever animation and other special effects.

So filled with amusing, idiosyncratic touches and unexpectedly charming characters that you mostly don't mind its excesses.

Pumped-up, dumbed-down Bond, with tattoos instead of brains.

The final result, shaped by the brilliantly nimble, pitch-perfect direction of Spike Jonze, and blessed by superb acting, is an extraordinarily clever comedy that falters only in the last 20 minutes.

One of the more entertaining documentaries to come along in some time.