Kevin Thomas

Proteus is involving and affecting even if it is not completely coherent or fully realized.

Simply too tedious and stretched out to be amusing. Had Schorr brought in his picture at 80 or 90 minutes Schultze might have been a different story.

The Grace Card becomes increasingly involving and assured, yet when the inevitable moment of truth arrives for the coming-apart Mac, the film lapses into melodrama, contrivance and improbability.

Less than terrific technically; focus and sound levels waver. Luckily, these flaws are not inconsistent with the film's raw, unvarnished tone and they do not diminish the effect of Leary's performance or that of Davis.

After an hour, or two-thirds of the film, they run out of gas. This is the kind of material that's easier to set up than it is to bring together in a satisfying fashion.

What is going on here? Most would say a lot of incredibly dangerous and stupid activity, and most of the people in this documentary not surprisingly seem none too bright.

As writer as well as star, Dedio expresses passionate concern for the lost young souls of Lower Manhattan but by and large doesn't define his characters strongly enough to involve the viewer in their fates very deeply.

Lively, amusing collection of five films that take a wry look at being gay.

A pleasant diversion, and its makers have been smart enough to keep it unpretentious.

It's not inaccurate to call Porn Star a puff piece.

The film is perhaps best enjoyed as a minor work with some major pluses, notably in the characterizations and in their adroit portrayals.

Serves up a lot of bone-crushing violence in an offbeat context with considerable style and energy, but the steady diet of brutal street fighting makes it all but impossible to connect with this picture, despite whatever visceral appeal it may offer.

Consistently sleek but works best if no more is expected of it than a mild diversion.

Will divide audiences between those whose hearts have been tugged into going along with the picture way past common sense and those who find it impossible to accept the film's credibility-defying developments.

It's an all-out horror film--handsomely produced but morbid and not in the least amusing to watch.

May not offer anything new, but it has terrific vitality.

This film's wise and compassionate view is that, for many young women of limited opportunities, winning a beauty contest represents their best hope.

Tilts toward the slight and merely pleasant when it could have had much more emotional impact.

Suffers from an overcomplicated plot, an overpopulated cast, a lot of corny humor and artificial contrivance, topped by a sluggish pace.

Contrivance and a horrendous body count combine to yield a morbid effect for discriminating filmgoers, despite a comic tone. Still, there's enough ingenuity and scariness to please plenty of fans of the first film.

No place for literalists, but Ferrera fans should be pleased with this tale.

Diverting and sometimes humorous but sticks to the superficial ...not distinctive enough to make much of an impression.

Because its gimmick lays bare the evils of racism so easily, the movie works for a while, but it becomes so predictable that it runs out of gas long before the end. [13 Oct 1985, p.5]

The problem is that, even though a romance develops, Buddy himself changes almost not at all, which means the film leaves a sour aftertaste. [15 June 1986, p.SUN-6]

Tony Burrough's vast Toy Workshop and Elf Village at the North Pole is the film's strongest asset. The workshop is a dazzling and accurate display of the Art Nouveau style in sinuous full flower.

Even though Drool rambles and ultimately slides into overly obvious make-believe, Kissam emerges as a fearless risk-taker of promise.

May be too heady for some tastes but can stir you deeply, if you're open to it.

Sweet-natured but hopelessly confused. [3 March 1989, p.6-10]

Although Head Over Heels moves swiftly, has an appealing cast and a serviceably diverting plot, it is nevertheless hard to fall head over heels over it.

Since the film is based on the Atari video game of the same name, it also has much to appeal to headbangers: fast pace, lots of gadgets, monsters, explosive special effects, plenty of inscrutable plot twists and turns.

Clever and diverting dark comedy.

A decently crafted, standard Mafia blood bath with a few new wrinkles and an aura of authenticity.

Not ultimately original enough to sustain its many horrific images.

Blake Edwards’ Skin Deep has a couple of the funniest moments Edwards ever devised; it has John Ritter’s easy-to-take charm, but it ends up living up to its title far too closely.

A standard-issue numskull comedy that aims low but is high in energy.

Zany, exuberantly irreverent animated space adventure.

The Hidden has enough smarts that it doesn’t need to be so total and unrelieved a massacre. The caustic dark humor with which it begins ends up drowning in an ocean of blood.

Stylish and gritty, The King Is Alive lacks the impact of revelation that might have made the journey worth taking.

It has a droll sensibility but is marred by dirge-like pacing and is seriously under-lighted -- so much so that it's all but impossible to get a good look at its principal setting.

Matthau has the best role, but Robbins and Ryan are finally simply too good for their material, which is not nearly inspired enough to do justice to their talent.

An earnest but overly contrived and overly long tale.

There are moments so visually stunning only a Kubrick could pull them off, yet the film is too grandiose to be the jolter that horror pictures are expected to be. Both those expecting significance from Kubrick and those merely looking for a good scare may be equally disappointed.

Under Michael Tollin's direction, Prinze does well in what is surely the most complex character he has played on the screen.

Eichmann, in all its solemnity, needs to be more dynamic; the film's portentous score further weighs it down.

Pirates has its sly, funny moments, but ironically ends up a work by a sophisticated film maker that may be best left to the least demanding audiences.

Increasingly perplexing film, which is more concerned with being clever than satisfying.

Those looking for sheer gore for its own sake probably won't be disappointed by Hellraiser III, but those expecting the quality of the first film in the series most likely will be. [14 Sep 1992, p.F8]

In this sleek but grisly and far-fetched thriller of the supernatural, [Resnikoff] means to terrify us but winds up leaving us merely numb, the usual effect of contrived exploitation fare. [09 Apr 1990, p.F6]

Sadly the film is so elusive, so distant, that it never seems more than half-alive.

Klimt comes alive only fitfully at best, and it seems that for those occasional moments when it comes into focus there is an equal number that are merely silly.

Its drawback is that it's a one-joke affair, leading to a repetitiousness that makes the film seem overlong even at 87 minutes.

The Conrad Boys reveals little cinematic instinct or imagination but has a deeply personal quality that becomes engaging.

As a thriller it has its moments, as a romance it's sometimes touching, but as a comedy it's too often a bust.

Boorman's stars Juliette Binoche and Samuel L. Jackson are valiant - even impressive - but they cannot rescue this grueling film or its mechanical plot.

Illustrates what happens when a viable premise is spoiled by sheer preposterousness.

It is not a terrible movie, and Stallone has appeared in far worse. It's just that, although diverting, it's too routine for its own good.

Driver, who steadfastly carries Rosina/Mary through every stormy stage of her self-discovery, is consistently better than the picture, as is Wilkinson.

Alba gives such a focused, interior portrayal that she just might have managed to carry the movie had it been better.

Tremendous energy, outrageous humor, dazzling technical finesse -- and a numbing amount of violence, brutality, bloodshed and all-out savagery. It is downright depressing to think about all that vigorous cinematic artistry and expertise aimed so low.

An intimate, good-humored ethnic comedy like numerous others but cuts deeper than expected.

Has the stuff of a cavalry classic...but it lacks the vision and personality to attain such a level of artistry.

Having succeeded at a persuasive, endearing anthropomorphosis, the film makers have come up with only a so-so picture to go with it. All that was really needed to make Short Circuit a more satisfying experience was to up the script a couple of notches and apply a lighter touch to it. Unfortunately, director John Badham and his fledgling writers have taken a very broad, heavy-handed approach.

Make no mistake about it: Streetwalkin’ (a very hard R) is first and foremost a blood bath.

Opera, while undeniably entertaining, winds up overwhelming its suspense with morbidity. [13 Jun 1990, p.F6]

Lakeboat requires its audiences to embrace it as lovingly as Mamet and Mantegna embrace its men, but it's a lot to ask.

A fast and clever con-gone-wrong comedy that reflects the writer-director's characteristic blend of the intellectual and the criminal. But it lacks anyone to care about--even the repellent characters are less than fascinating--and the result is a crisply made movie that is no more than mildly amusing.

Lacks the sharpness and sophistication necessary for it to appeal beyond Indian audiences.

A mildly amusing comedy about the vicissitudes of shooting porn that has little of the grit, sleaze and uncertainty that is the lot of the veteran pornographer striving for professionalism more often than not against all odds.

It is moving and has been well-crafted with much care.

A giddy, slight Latina-lib comedy.

Not as distinctive or even as humorous as its needs to be to stand out, but it has clearly been made with affection and care.

t's great to see cherished, longtime stars in big roles to which they can bring so much spontaneity and finesse; you wish only that this movie were sturdier and had aimed higher. Judging from the bloopers that unreel during Grumpier Old Men's end credits, the cast had lots of fun making this movie--more fun, it would seem, than it is to watch. [22 Dec 1995, p.18]

Familiar but winningly funny and good-hearted.

Likely to cast its spell primarily on adolescent girls, while their elders might well find it more than a little tedious in its familiarity and artificiality.

That the acting is stilted and that the filmmakers and especially Pla take themselves so seriously serves to make Eternal deliriously silly camp fare.

As rambling as a Keystone Kops comedy (which it resembles in many ways), it's slapstick to the max, and thus likely to be a bit tedious except to dedicated martial arts fans. [20 Dec 1993, p.F5]

Finding Joe is so centered on the self-realization of the individual that it provokes one to contemplate the millions of oppressed, imperiled people that haven't the luxury of pursuing such an inner quest.

Handsome but overly studied. [09 Mar 1986, p.5]

Perfectly pleasant if slightly pokey comedy.

Rourke and Johnson are worthy of better, as is Australian director Simon Wincer, best known for his Emmy-winning direction of the miniseries Lonesome Dove.

You may want to take a chance on this new Out-of-Towners because of its stars, but keep in mind that while its characters take chances, the picture itself plays it awfully safe. [2 April 1999, Calendar, p.F-12]

Unfortunately, for all the admirable respect director Franc Roddam and writer Lloyd Fonvielle (who co-wrote Roddam's "The Lords of Discipline") bring to their extensive reworking of the legend of Frankenstein and his bride, they're over their heads -- waaaaayyy over. The result is a film that commands affection for its ambition and civilized sensibility, but nonetheless provokes unintended laughter. [16 Aug 1985, p.C18]

Director Mike Bigelow maintains a mercifully swift pace, and while the film's humor is deliberately as crass as humanly possible, it is not truly mean-spirited, even though Amsterdam is depicted as a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah.

The film is not without humor or conflict, but it is a complex coming-of-age story that places a premium on independence and attacks sexual hypocrisy.

Unfortunately, Belly is highly uneven. Williams comes from music videos and knows all about flashy techniques. His sure sense of the visual reveals potential, but he needs to learn to tell a story far more coherently. [04 Nov 1998, p.F2]

A nod to Fellini--and that "half" turns out to be a typically dark Greenaway twist. Yet this film, one of Greenaway's most amusing and accessible, actually arrives at moments of tenderness, even love, fleeting though they may be.

A standard-issue Hollywood family film about a boy and his dog growing up in a Southern small town during World War II.

A warm and pleasant romantic fantasy that shows BenGazzara and Rita Moreno to advantage but is better suited to the tube or the stage.

There are moments when it is possible, with effort, to forget the plot and its tired premise and enjoy Witherspoon and Ruffalo's chemistry and imagine they are in another movie. But never for long.

Director Bill Condon has a sense of style but a heavy hand with actors -- you can all but hear them telling themselves to hit their marks and punch out their lines. [20 Mar 1995, p.F2]

Starts out as such a deliciously savage satire of TV kiddie shows that it's a shame it swerves out of control and over the top, sliding into tedium before pulling together for a clever, if protracted, finish.

Lacks freshness and vitality.

Stone covers territory all too familiar to most Americans old enough to remember the JFK assassination.

This single joke rapidly gets pretty tired; you soon wish you could tell Moretti to try slapping on some calamine lotion--and getting on with his life. But stringing us along--with varying effectiveness-- is his life.

The day-to-day realities, especially economic, of Sonny and Jewel's lives could have been more fully detailed to good effect, and Cage might have also have risked setting off the tenderness of his storytelling with an edgier style. Even so, few films take the viewer by surprise with such emotional impact as Sonny.

Credibility and even simple logic seem to have gotten short shrift in its transposition to the screen from a highly praised first novel by Terry Davis. The result is a film of some lovely and funny moments, with some appealing people, that finally disappoints.

When it comes to special effects, the filmmakers have spared no expense. But when it comes to the story, audiences have been shortchanged.

A poignant, ambitious romantic comedy that overreaches its premise with a hopelessly convoluted denouement; it plays like a last-minute attempt to pad out Tori Spelling's part to justify her star billing.

Leigh piles up woe wider and higher than ever before. That he has done so with his usual skill, perception and alertness to relieving gestures of human tenderness and care does not keep All or Nothing from being a pretty glum, overly familiar business.

Likely to be best appreciated by dedicated sci-fi fans, admirers of Dick in particular. It hasn't the stupendous razzle-dazzle of a mega-budget picture like "A.I. Artificial Intelligence."

There are moments in Kaena that are absorbing, but too much of the time it simply becomes tedious.

Filmmaker Peter Rodger does a fairly comprehensive job of traversing the globe in 98 minutes, posing the age-old question, "What is God?"

Instead of underplaying the story's escalating tempestuousness it pushes it over the top; time and again the film begins to catch fire only to be doused in silliness.

Matt Dillon and Andrew McCarthy are engaging, but David Stevens’ overly conventional direction lacks the style to bring freshness and punch to Spencer Eastman’s complicated and drawn-out script.

It's too thin to be satisfying. It consistently sparkles and moves along gracefully, but at a mere 81 minutes it leaves you unsatisfied. Although trimmed from an R to a PG-13, reportedly in light of the AIDS scare, you're nevertheless left with the feeling that more than sex ended up on the cutting-room floor. [19 Sept 1987, p.9]

A flawed time-travel love story, benefits from Meg Ryan's reliable perkiness and establishes Australia's Hugh Jackman as a potent romantic leading man. These and other pluses, however, cannot overcome the film's inability to come alive for a full hour and 20 minutes.

Since Ned Kelly -- which is not terrible, just too often dull -- has a no-expense-spared feel to it, this Focus Features release can be regarded only as an opportunity missed.

Hitler had his Leni Riefenstahl, and now Castro has his Bravo...Bravo is no Riefenstahl when it comes to persuasive mythologizing.

The strongest asset is the film's setting, a splendid re-creation of Buffalo Bill's famous tent show. [26 Feb 1989, p.4]

Over the years the movies have made precious little use of the distinctive talents of Eartha Kitt, but adults who accompany children to Ernest Scared Stupid, Disney's silly Halloween kiddie horror comedy, can be grateful for her stylish, witty presence.

Raucously energetic and replete with a barrage of graphic sexual humor.

Dahmer moves with a slowness that's meant to be compelling but is largely merely glum. This becomes a hindrance to building suspense in telling a true story whose outcome is already well known.

A provocative though murky thriller from the horrormeister that's heavy on gore and laced with more irony than perhaps intended. It's far from first-rate King, but his fans probably will feel it delivers the gory goods. Best of all, it affords a big star role for Miguel Ferrer, a fine and distinctive actor.

A work of honesty and artistic integrity that nonetheless will be difficult to watch for many viewers.

Jelski is a skilled filmmaker, and her sense of reality is so uncompromising that, even when tempered by a touch of dark humor, her film is a grim, hard-to-take business.

It's difficult, though, to see how this picture -- essentially chronicling a long car trip -- could mean much to anyone but the Wagners and their friends and relatives.

Constant shifts between past and present and between individual stories creates varying perspectives that add dimension and insight to material that might play tritely if presented in straightforward narrative form.

This story of an East L.A. Latina determined to follow in her father's footsteps to the boxing ring does pack a punch.

Dazzling in its possibilities, but the holiday message of the 37-minute Santa vs. the Snowman leaves a lot to be desired.

Not everyone, for sure, is going to be able or willing to go the distance in this ambitious but exceedingly offbeat epic, which is great-looking and has a sweeping romantic score by Hartley himself.

Pet Sematary II, which is too gruesome for grammar school youngsters and too easily laughed off for most high schoolers, ought to be a big hit among the junior high crowd. Not nearly as scary as the 1989 original, it nonetheless expresses and attempts to resolve in bold mythological terms the anxieties of being 13.

Although The Dying Gaul tries to evoke the pathos of Greek tragedy and the stars strive heroically, there's none of the requisite grandeur in this trio of creeps to make it worth caring what happens to them.

An admirably ambitious political satire but is stronger on soundtrack narration than on-camera dramatization.

As skilled, resourceful actors, (Argento and Harris) make...a more believable couple than you would have thought possible.

While it's entertaining, it's not as persuasive as it needs to be to succeed fully.

Two movies in one, but it's no bargain. A charming romantic comedy... transforms awkwardly into a hedonistic crime thriller, with the two genres violently butting heads.

Much of Craig Chester's good-hearted love story Adam & Steve is silly and contrived, but the film boasts four engaging actors.

The American big-movie sex comedy conventions overwhelm Jordan’s liberating poetry, his wild lyricism.

At 100 minutes Careful begins to bore, whereas at half that running time it might well have been unalloyed fun. [05 Nov 1993, p.F12]

Decidedly a minor item that's been on the shelf for a while but is nonetheless an effective calling card for its writer-director-star.

Van Peebles' persona and sensibility remain engaging, as do his way with his beguiling score and songs, but his film desperately needs tightening to eliminate tedious moments, especially in the African sequence.

Highlander: The Final Dimension is elementary and vague, but this purportedly last installment works well enough on a comic book level. Music video veteran Andy Morahan, in his feature directorial debut, has the right idea: Go for as much energy, pace and visual panache as possible. [30 Jan 1995, p.F8]

While Bruce Almighty does end on a modest "Candide"-like note, the getting there is too strained to be much of a pleasure.

Too much of the film is not inspired enough in its humor to overcome the queasy feeling that comes from watching a comedy-adventure involving Jews during the Holocaust.

A routine, mildly funny service comedy. [01 Mar 1996, p.F6]

Neither terrible nor outstanding, it's the kind of middle-of-the-road picture that's hard to remember a week after seeing it. [8 Feb 1985, p.C2]

The new film is so leisurely paced and overly long that what means to be at once charming yet darkly satirical lapses into tedium and barely comes alive.

Figgis remains a compelling storyteller, holding you with the intensity of his vision and his mastery of nuance.

As synthetic as a plastic Christmas tree.

Reasonably diverting, but don't count on it lingering in your memory.

Landon's sardonic view of human nature and deft filmmaking skills - plus a raft of sharp portrayals - keep the viewer from pondering the preposterousness of certain situations and instead encourages going along with the fun.

The group's intent is not to insult those physically or mentally challenged in any manner of degree but, rather, to disturb middle-class types as much as they possibly can.

Finally too derivative and sensational for its own sake to work.

There’s an elegant sheen and sophisticated tone to Dead of Winter, but since it’s neither witty nor ingenious enough to be either genuinely amusing or suspenseful, it seems a bit morbid by default.

Too flat and academic to come alive. The film's lack of dimension tends to render much of it banal, and Downey's lengthy harangues, as beautifully wrought as they are, are overly literary, which serves to make this intricate film seem all the more contrived.

This skillfully made Italian heart-tugger was a success on home ground. Its star, Marco Filiberti, in an audacious writing and directing debut, has lots on his mind and much in his heart, and as a filmmaker displays a Douglas Sirkian flair for finding substance in melodrama.

Despite its large scale, it plays like a formula TV movie. [14 Feb 1986, p.C4]

There are lots of hilarious, off-the-wall incidents, and the film has a likable freewheeling spirit to go with its knockabout plot. But the film isn't as remotely funny as it means to be.

Danny Elfman's intense score contributes crucial energy, John Thomas' camera work is first-rate, but the ambitious Freeway ends up merely trashy.

What's so amazing about the Police Academy movies is that they keep being made even though they stopped being funny after the hilarious original. We're now up to No. 4, and the most you can say for it is that it is the teeniest bit better, not quite so crass as the last two...Director Jim Drake is at least brisk and amiable; if nothing else, Police Academy 4 is good-natured and doesn't drag.

Despite its dollops of good-natured humor and sentiment, Blow Dry is likely to play better on the tube as a likable-enough diversion.

The point of the film is to strike a blow for truth regardless of consequences, but it's hard to believe in this seduction. [11 May 2000, p.F36]

Despite strong portrayals by Guttenberg and his co-star, Lombardo Boyar, and sequences that attempt to open the play up, it remains too much a filmed play, and worse, one that has not been effectively paced. As a result, it doesn't come alive until it's drawing to a close that's unexpectedly touching, if more than a little sentimental, but too late to redeem the preceding tedium.

A tiresome addiction drama.

There's an underlying emptiness to Human Traffic and it's difficult to say for sure whether Kerrigan fully acknowledges it.

It's too over-the-top, too lurid and at times simply too silly to represent any kind of valid commentary on the repressive '50s or the way in which institutions tend to destroy rather than cure. "Far From Heaven," which nailed '50s angst to perfection, Asylum could not be farther from.

A handsome, intelligent film of rigorous austerity; unfortunately, for all its seriousness of purpose and fine performances, it's also a boring film about boring people.

Maxwell has populated his film with paragons rather than people. Worse, they talk and talk and talk; this film is in danger of talking itself to death before the Union and the Confederacy are able to decimate each other.

A glum British kidnap movie in which writer-director J Blakeson manages to generate tension and some suspense, never rises above the mechanical and contrived, finally lapsing into the improbable.

Let's hope Romero is not tempted to go for a quartet, for at this point sheer gruesomeness overwhelms his ideas and even his dynamic visuals. He would, in fact, have been better off not having tried for a third installment. [04 Oct 1985, p.4]

A medieval adventure-love saga in which all the cliches have been turned inside out. Instead of chivalry, the 1985 movie focuses on swinishness and brutality. Instead of love it offers lust and lechery; instead of heroism, pillage and murder. The "instead-ofs" go on and on, leaving us no one to root for and everything and everybody finally a turn-off. [10 July 1988, p.TV2]

The endless gore and violence make the experience torturous -- and not just for the victims in the movie.

Just another lurid, contrived, xenophobic tale about Americans trapped in hideous foreign prisons.

Takes us down a familiar path without discovering anything new along the way.

Mildly entertaining, offering generous swaths of Mahler performed by the Bratislava Philharmonic, but it's also inescapably ponderous.

Few people will be able to go along with Bolton's point of view regarding relationships between adults and underage youths, but there's no denying the writer-director, in his feature debut, has avoided sensationalism in telling this story.

This premise is ripe with possibilities, but in an apparent -- and definitely misguided -- attempt to make his movie more commercial, Wilkinson has made the younger brother a murderer on the run.

Uptown Girls is more downer than upper.

This is a standard-issue gross Hollywood knockabout comedy in which slapstick antics have been piled up with a steam shovel and driven home with a sledgehammer. Reynolds and Smart are game and even dimensional, but all others are stuck playing tiresome, obnoxious characters.

Controlled Chaos unfortunately also reveals that Zendel's talents do not equal her ambitions.

Laborious in the unfolding of its plot, and under Sam Weisman's brash direction the unabashed amorality of the material is crass rather than sly in tone.

It's revealing that writer-director Dave Boyle has said that in a way he fulfilled his lifelong ambition to be a cartoonist with the live-action White on Rice because his people in this wan, trite and increasingly silly comedy are little more than stick figures.

Not exactly terrible, merely stale and pointless.

Marcos Siega's direction is well-paced, but writers David T. Wagner and Brent Goldberg haven't brought anything sufficiently fresh or original to a formula plot to allow Underclassman to rise above the level of a mildly diverting video rental.

Carpenter's heart doesn't seem to be in this lackluster space adventure set in 2176. What's more, his stars -- Natasha Henstridge and Ice Cube -- don't exactly energize the proceedings.

Ritter, Dawber and Jones are skilled comedians, and director Peter Hyams typically handles large-scale entertainments with aplomb. But it’s hard to see how anyone could have made anything out of something as flat as Stay Tuned.

Parker Posey, the queen of the indies, is a stylish actress, but there's not much she can do with the flat, trite sex comedy The Oh in Ohio, written by Adam Wierzbianski and directed by Billy Kent without a trace of imagination or originality.

The result is crass but reasonably harmless, although to hear one of the guys hold forth on how much he's learned about family and loyalty in just one week living with the DOGs is enough to make a person gag.

It is a slack and preachy business that never comes to grips with its underlying theme of homophobia.

Dazzling visually but is flattened by corny dialogue better suited to the 1936 "Flash Gordon" serial, a needlessly hard to follow plot and heavy-handed exposition clotted with pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo.

Certainly sexy, entertaining and provocative -- in several senses of the word -- but it's also tiresome as only a French film can be when everyone in it has only sex and amour on his or her mind and is deadly serious about both.

More than anything, The Grudge suggests that it's time for Shimizu to move on.

Hill, who brings considerably less humor to his film than Kurosawa did his, unfortunately hasn't anything new to add that makes it worth sitting through his blood baths, as skillfully staged as they are. [20 Sep 1996, p.F10]

Overly preachy and maudlin but is saved by its obvious sincerity and forthright sense of purpose, and further enhanced by its rich color cinematography.

An ambitious and intelligent film probing that chronic contemporary phenomenon, the seemingly senseless crime, but it is ultimately unsatisfying for all its efforts and various pluses.

In short, Vlad could have used a substantial transfusion of wit and energy, with a dash of dark humor.

A fantasy, a fairy tale, but its characters and the emotions they elicit become painfully real.

Smile is like a dose of cod liver oil: It may be good for you, but it's no fun.

Inspired by the Parker Brothers board game of the same name, Clue is more frenetic than funny, more strained than suspenseful or scary. In fact, it's not the least bit scary or suspenseful but instead quickly grows tedious. The more you struggle to keep track of the constantly multiplying plot developments, the harder it gets to care who did it. [13 Dec 1985, p.6]

Jackpot has much that is sweet and funny, but it is not overly original--and it is overly long and not as coherent as it might be.

It's hard to imagine anyone enjoying it except for those seeking to see people up there on the screen unhappier than themselves.

While Macy is persuasive, much of Focus is not.

The juxtaposition of grim reality and pure fantasy doesn't work...the entire film seem artificial and contrived.

The Doom Generation plays like a low-budget Natural Born Killers -- and that is not intended as a compliment. [27 Oct 1995, p.F6]

Limp spoof.

Hits hard and pulls no punches in telling its brutal story.

Youthful audiences won't be attracted to a love story between two 54-year-olds in the first place, and mature audiences will be turned off by the language, not necessarily out of prudishness, but out of its sheer crassness.

Project X strains credibility. Too often it seems an overreaching variation on "WarGames."

The film does have a certain flair and pace and is lively enough to be mildly diverting.

Candyman, the latest Clive Barker shocker, is his worst to date: an ambitious would-be morality play/thriller of the supernatural involving racism and mythology that seems merely pretentious and preposterous as it drowns in gallons of blood and guts. [16 Oct 1992, p.F6]

Highly problematical. The trouble with "Trouble" is one of temperament. Denis' formality and seriousness make the horror genre a risky business for her, especially when sex is combined with outrageous gore.

Relentlessly smarmy and contrived, and its pitch for the cause of prisoner rehabilitation preachy and heavy-handed.

Synthetic, strained and noisy, Yours, Mine & Ours is a clinker that doesn't bear comparison with the original. Quaid, Russo and others deserve better.

Overlong, overwritten.

A masterful performance by Warren Oates in the title role, but the film emerges as trite and hollow anyway. [19 Aug 1990, p.4]

Like a lot of other Asian sci-fi anime: a stunningly imagined world of the future populated with one-dimensional characters caught up in a trite plot.

More entrails, more bare bosoms, more R-rated sex, more flatulence, more mayhem, more brutality and more violence. But it adds up to less and less.

Jack Conway's direction is slow and ponderous, which is characteristic of so many of MGM's painstakingly crafted melodramas of the 1940s. [02 Sep 1991, p.F14]

Unnecessary and silly.

For all the soaring visual splendor of its past, present and future, it's hobbled by a murky plot that proves to be not all that original once it starts unraveling.

The result is a movie that's hard to laugh at when its hero would surely be either in jail or perhaps even a mental institution were he to behave the way he does on screen in real life.

Charlotte Gray, for all Blanchett's radiance and intelligence in the title role, is a bore.

It's amazing how boring endless talk about more and better orgasms can become.

The filmmakers cannot sustain enough momentum to keep their film from seeming contrived and preachy.

Hilary Duff can't rise above an overbearing script with underdeveloped roles.

The young stars are attractive and capable, but Hotel de Love is as synthetic as an old "Love Boat" episode.

It's not a bad idea, and it has the right cast and the right look. But, sad to say, it lacks the pace and energy to make it come alive and therefore remains more of a literary conceit than a movie.

What's wrong with Megiddo is not its good-versus-evil theme but the clunky, unpersuasive manner in which it has been expressed.

The result is hit or miss, with a laugh here and there, ultimately creating an aura of hopeless and drawn-out improbability.

It lapses into that familiar category of movies that go in for lots of fancy obfuscation along the way only to make its story seem all the more simple, trite and contrived by the finish.

The whole point of this anemic venture is to get down and party, but it comes across as a pale passe carbon of "Animal House" that's not half as much fun.

Flowers in the Attic is a protracted exercise in morbidity, relieved only by moments of ludicrousness. In adapting Andrews' Gothic chiller, writer-director Jeffrey Bloom tries hard to establish an eerie fairy-tale-gone-sour mood, yet fails to work up the credibility necessary to sustain it. The result is a real turnoff. [20 Nov 1987, p.32]

Eating Out 2 is sweet-natured, but like the first edition, lame and way too talky.

While her latest, It's a Wonderful Afterlife, is affectionate and energetic, its comic premise seems too silly, and at times, too tedious, to hope for much cross-cultural appeal, despite a fine, committed cast.

Not enough to save ivansxtc from, of all things, dullness.

Production notes for Mark Hanlon's Buddy Boy describe it as "a dark and twisted exploration of faith, alienation and madness"--and is it ever!

Chintzy-looking gore-bore.

Writer-director Todd Stephens set out to make the raunchiest gay teen movie ever, which this picture most certainly is, but the result is far more frenetic than funny.

Class of 1999 swiftly short-circuits on unspeakable, incessant brutality and bloodshed.

Nick Nolte and Martin Short make a frequently hilarious odd couple, but the film itself is shamelessly sentimental and often slapdash.

Has much that tries for outrageous camp, but too much of it plays like a crude travesty of overly familiar Southern decadence. It needed a director who knows how to stylize intense theatricality rather than merely revel in it in wobbly fashion.

With The Rose Technique, producer-writer Ray Stroeber came up with a promising idea, but director Jon Scheide plays this pitch-dark comedy far too straight.

The film is loud and labored--its sense of adventure kicking in so late that it scarcely matters. [12 Feb 1999, p.F15]

Could be a tough go for those not already Scooby-Doo fans. It has a totally artificial quality, starting with Prinze's blond wig.

The thriller with a promising premise fails to deliver.

Not even a sincere and heroic effort by Nicolas Cage can redeem the film's essential phoniness.

Slight in the extreme, more tasteless than amusing, but at least its young actors manage to make promising impressions, especially Wiehl and Brenner, whose characters have a tad more dimension than the others.

As for Schneider, he may be obnoxious and unhandsome, but he is, more important, talented and fearless, the driving force of this brash, not-so-predictable comedy.

All the ingredients of a success--a stellar cast, a promising premise, a strong production team--but nothing comes together in satisfying fashion.

The route to the film's dramatic and poignant climax is so hard to follow that the pleasure, the potential for which is considerable, has been substantially diminished.

The film is loaded with striking visuals, high energy and all-stops portrayals from its actors, but for all of Samuell's imaginative cinematic bravura, it is, finally, mainly exasperating. Phooey on Julien and Sophie's excruciating l'amour fou.

All-out burlesque rather than spoof from the outset, the film becomes less and less amusing. Wayans has a wild zaniness that can be hilarious, but how many bodily function jokes, ultra-crude sexual innuendoes and quite a lot of men and women simply punching each other out can one movie endure?

Although decently acted and well-crafted, Thérèse is essentially an illustrated Sunday school lecture for true believers. It comes across as more an exercise in determined piety.

While clunky in pacing -- and in periodic attempts at humor -- Green Card Fever has been well-photographed by Scott Spears and makes some provocative points.

Has its moments here and there, but not nearly enough of them to add up to a satisfying movie.

Since the humor in Moving never rises above the level of a stale sitcom, the film defeats proven comedy director Alan Metter and even its star, Richard Pryor, stuck in the squarest, most strait-jacketed role of his career.

Looks good but overstays its welcome.

Rich in authentic locales but is unevenly directed by Andrew Molina and is hazy in its chronology. Hayata's story in all its myriad implications might well have been better told in documentary form.

The misguided, delirious result offers the perverse guilty pleasure of watching a roster of distinguished actors earnestly swimming against a tidal wave of silliness.

A stunner marred by its central figure, a colt named Lucky, having been voiced (by Lukas Haas). Piovani's score is lyrical and emotionally charged, and it goes a long way toward negating the effects of the voice-over narration we're asked to accept.

Alfonso Arau's romantic fable A Walk in the Clouds is so confounding a miscalculation that its every development causes your jaw to drop in sheer amazement.

Weighed down with gimmicks and special effects, a number of which are far from special, Sky High is best left to 10- to 14-year-olds because it's not likely to do much for older audiences and is too violent for the very young.

As impressive as Jackson is and as thought-provoking as director Kasi Lemmons' movie is, it's ultimately satisfying neither as a genre piece nor as an art film.

Despite a capable cast and attractive Baton Rouge, La., locales photographed by Bobby Bukowski, The Ledge suffers from a seriously flawed script that's just too implausible to be taken seriously.

The only way the film could have had a prayer of working--and thereby tapping its stars' considerable strengths--is by taking a much harder edge and going for dark, even bleak humor.

The well-intended Group is nevertheless problematic. It's relentlessly grueling, as therapy can be, and not everyone will be able to see a reason to watch it.

Although awesome in its fantasy splendor, Legend has even less substance than Scott's last film, "Blade Runner." And whereas that detective thriller of the future offered a truly original vision, the look of Legend, as gorgeous as it is, seems a distillation of all the illustrations for all the fairy tales ever read to a child. [18 Apr 1986, p.C4]

There's scarcely a whiff of originality in the zombie horror picture House of the Dead, but Uwe Boll has directed it with enough energy and style that it adds up to passably mindless if grisly fun.

Iron Eagle has an unintended hilarity that builds and builds. But don't take this as one of those so-bad-it's-good endorsements: The film is a total waste of time.

At times awkward and under-inspired, creating a question as to whether so gloomy and repugnant a tale was worth telling simply for its own sake.

Not quite the sum of its occasionally interesting parts. Most of its cast makes strong impressions, but the plot and motivation don't quite jell, resulting in a minor item that shows its star Troy Garity to good advantage.

Evokes the fear, anger and conflict that swept over the country at the time, but it doesn't offer sufficient fresh insights to justify doing so.

Deeply felt but flat and unimaginative.

A silly trifle about three housewives (Susan Saint James, Jessica Lange and Jane Curtin) who'd rather plan a shopping mall robbery to ease their dire financial straits than try to get a job. [04 May 1986, p.6]

Long-winded and ultimately uninvolving.

As has happened before in less extreme circumstances, filmmakers with purportedly serious intentions punish their viewers for watching their envelope-pushing depiction of sex on the screen by presenting it in the most profoundly negative context imaginable.

The result is an exquisite yawn that provokes consideration of how accomplished Ben Kingsley, Fiona Shaw and Mira Sorvino and others are as actors -- but how in this instance the characters they play so intensely never come alive.

These characters, which Perry worked into the narrative from other stage performances, may have been entertaining in those venues, but they undermine the film.

The merely depressing ultimately gives way to the contrived in Seth Zvi Rosenfeld's King of the Jungle.

Creepshow 2 is a cut-rate sequel from those two popular masters of horror, Stephen King and George Romero, that plays like leftovers. Fans of both deserve better. The second--and the only one of the three stories that King has published--is the best. This vignette is effective because it's simple and suspenseful, but it's not enough to carry the whole movie.

A routine sci-fi/horror action-adventure, takes us where we've been countless times before.