Kim Morgan

Accuracy and realism are terrific, but if your film becomes boring, and your dialogue isn't smart, then you need to use more poetic license.

A slight, smartly dressed bit of melodrama that thinks it's gritty when it's really a bit of puff.

Though no classic, the concept is a clever one.

Hollow, frequently boring picture.

Funny, dumb, cruel and sick, Girls Will Be Girls is a relentlessly mean picture that will tickle those tired of sweet comedies whether in drag or plainclothes. In short, "Tootsie" it ain't.

A spare, internally emotional movie like One requires something called screen presence. Its two leads have it.

Not just love, but maybe an escape from a wretched world. We're not sure, but that's what makes Heaven so inexplicably, intriguingly soulful, even in its most remote and architectural instances.

Somewhere along the way, Stephen Herek's Rock Star decided to become a dippy, cliche-ridden drama and, worse, an odd indictment of metal music. Joy.

Corky Romano is merely grating. Until he finds a better director than Rob Pritts, Kattan's best bet is to stick with "SNL" impresario Lorne Michaels.

With its eye-popping color, bold personality and snazzy tunes, Chicago is a breathtaking experience.

She (Cho) can tell a joke, mimic, offer commentary, play cute, play ugly and be so hilariously absurd that tears will run down your cheeks.

Not that Chan isn't lovable; he is. But he's making it harder to feel warm and fuzzy about him with films like The Medallion. It's OK to age, but Chan needs to broaden his horizons. He is a trained singer. Where's that musical he's always dreamed of making?

A grating experience from start to finish.

Sometimes complicated, sometimes incredibly simple, the film explicates or fawns over the human condition with occasional charm and poignancy but too often it's just cloying.

All guts, no glory and, worse, bad story.

With understated skill and absolute authenticity, the film builds with enough layers that by its powerful ending, you'll feel as if you have been kicked in the stomach.

Surprisingly bland even within its dubious genre of "chick flick."

Plot, comedy and characterization? It's absolutely anemic.

No matter how many times you've seen it, you marvel at how terrifying, gorgeous and surreal the jungle, the yellow napalm and, finally, the disturbed face of Martin Sheen lying under a swirling fan appear on the large screen. This is indeed, a dream.

Some will hate this film, but there's something delectably junky about it -- like a bright colored candy glistening from a gutter, you just have to look at it.

Daring work of genius.

Westfeldt becomes irritating. That's one of the film's points, but it's made a little too well.

The film moves too slowly and dispassionately to resonate as it should.

Intriguing, containing a truthful kernel of sweetness, rot and brutality that will shock many.

Has many puff-piece moments to it and barely touches the controversy surrounding Tupac's death or that of rival hip-hop impresario Biggie Smalls. But it's engaging nonetheless.

Bad comedy.

Goes overboard in its presentation of supposed reality.

In its own slightly disturbing way, this psychological thriller serves as an absorbing diversion without sapping brain cells -- almost the perfect summer movie for smart people.

Though you get caught up in the criminal element (you really want these people to get away with it), you're also fascinated by who to trust. It's an unusual dance between the awkward and plain that becomes romantic and thrilling -- a subtly impressive feat to say the least.

The performances are uniformly fine, with Perez showing a heavy amount of presence and complexity. It's no wonder the film works best when fixed on his face.

Feels more TV movie-of-the-week than Oscar contender.

Starts out dark, thrilling and inventive, then, regrettably, becomes sappy, mainstream and mundane.

A hilarious, sad and sometimes-inspiring documentary directed by Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, the film is an all-out Tammy valentine -- campy, dramatic and, of course, makeup-smeared. And better than any melodrama you'll see this year.

Understands that extreme feelings bring out weird reactions. Tension and sadness will occasionally be interrupted by humor -- even slapstick.

One of the most wearisome "high adrenaline" movies to come along in a while.

It's an interesting effort (particularly for JFK conspiracy nuts), and Barry's cold-fish act makes the experience worthwhile.

There are many merits to the picture -- it's wonderfully shot and boasts a beautiful performance by Eul-Boom, who acts in gestures of subtle dignity and compassion. But it's questionable how we're to take actor Seung-Ho.

Lacks the perfect timing, luster and true vitality of its predecessors.

A film that merges cocaine, Ivy League, college applications, the Asian American experience, dark comedy and high school drama while maintaining a personal tone and likable lead characters is just too impressive to knock.

For those who've seen the original, no surprises will be unearthed other than an altered story (not for the better) and more gore.

Though the picture has a generic quality, it also has an ingenious amount of anything-goes that's amusing and frequently exciting. You'll laugh out loud, you'll hide your eyes -- but you'll roll them. too. Nevertheless, it's a fun, if blood- and sun-soaked, ride.

It's a heap of contradictions that will leave your head spinning.

Has a curious train-wreck quality to it that keeps you watching and thinking. (Even if you are thinking things like, Why were these lines ever written? When you hear the "turkey" line, your jaw will drop.)

Seems deeply influenced by American film noir, the Western fairy tale (in this case, mermaids) and the works of Alfred Hitchcock in particular.

The "Citizen Kane" of rat movies makes for a terrific overhaul in this wonderfully entertaining and, yes, touching take on that terribly confused man/child named Willard.

Though Michael Winterbottom's Wonderland appears as gritty as they come, it uncommonly has a romantic heart.

A picture so powerfully harrowing, its slight shortcomings are forgettable compared to the entire film's cumulative effect. It's that searing.

Lopez is fine, sometimes quite funny, but she's better playing the take-no-prisoners planner than a goofy, insecure dork.

But with a potentially fascinating study of ethics, of how cheating rich boys become cheating rich men while humble souls do more good in the world, The Emperor's Club doesn't take the audience anywhere smart.

Manages to feel both obvious and oblique: You feel the need to watch it twice but wonder if you would actually be up for it. It moves like a breezy techno-thriller but tangles itself with duplicities and metaphors. You get it, and then you don't get it, and then you wonder if you even care.

Working with a weak script and too lightweight for its freakier moments with Green, the picture never gels. Green's the star, but he really should be in a movie much weirder than this one, a film that can accommodate his humor.

It's a first love story that goes beyond many simplistic notions as to why people fall for one another. If it weren't true, no one would believe it.

It's a remarkable, thoughtful achievement that will make you want to watch it twice. You should.

We're talking mediocre-to-bad. Still, the film has at least two bits that are funnier than anything in many better films and a fair amount of mild amusement in between.

There's something refreshingly and truly girlish about the picture's musings and epiphanies that makes its R rating baffling.

A coming-of-age movie that stands apart from the rest.

It's a shame director Care didn't take more time with his characters, even making the film a bit longer to deepen the connections between them. Still, The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys is a keen slice of teen angst and peril.

It works for the most part, though some scenes come off contrived or directed without flavor. But thanks to the likable, rough-hewn crew and Forster, the film flows along gruffly and with eloquence.

The film is still a wonderful lark filled with an ingredient most summer blockbusters lack -- likability.

Owning Mahowny may at times feel futile in its colorless, disheartening subject matter, but that's the point -- to see how barren Mahowny's life becomes. Hoffman gives the film relevance.

On paper, it sounds like the start of a good film. Too bad McKee made such a lackluster thing of it. Though the horror comes from an interesting place, it's frequently forced, negating much of the humor and pathos the film attempts to instill.

A movie that will wear you out and make you misty even when you don't want to be. It's a gushy, sometimes-maudlin, often-charming movie that highlights the importance of little things.

Appropriate music, lovely cinematography and stellar performances by both a subtly moving Neill and a likable, barrel-chested super-American Warburton.

There's nothing worse than a sub-par Woody Allen knockoff.

It's merely a by-the-numbers coming-of-age film

A little movie, fine, but a little movie with little in the way of character composition, cinematic panache or intelligent writing.

Almodovar loves the human flesh -- indeed, one of his films is titled "Live Flesh" -- and with the quietly subversive Talk to Her, he utilizes it not just as mere decoration but weaves with it textured themes of powerlessness, love and obsession.

Jas some nice moments, a great soundtrack and some wonderful works by the dark-even-while-light Ricci.

It's something we might mildly enjoy on an airplane (well, not anymore) or on a lazy Sunday TV day when nothing else is on, but in theaters, it's a clunker.

One of the purest instances of indie cinema this year. "Pure" meaning that in every aspect of filmmaking and intent this picture is peerless, so truly real, funny, poignant and sexy that it almost feels like a watershed cinematic moment.

One of the funniest things in Scary Movie 3 is Pamela Anderson. She makes us laugh. And not just at her (though she's game to poke fun at her image) but with her.

Unafraid of walking the fine line between the repellent and the human, Shallow Hal is wickedly funny but heartfelt.

You may strain to recall just what happened an hour after you see it, but there are so many worse things to have to remember in life. It's a relief to focus on something so attractively amusing.

Needing the gristle of its title, the film should have been angrier.

Although amateurish, often poorly acted and containing dialogue and narration that comes off as pretentious and embarrassing, it's worth watching for the environment it envelops you in.

Panic never lets you forget that Donald Sutherland can be one of America's greatest actors.

It's fun, albeit a little messy, under the frequently punchy direction of Peter Berg.

The film strives to be poetic, but it exposes nothing especially moving or relevant. Rather, the engaging leads wander around like actors lost in an ill-fated exercise in subtext.

A disappointing venture. If only it had been more clever, perhaps darker.

This little serio-comedy contains absolutely nothing that warrants big-screen release. It's lit like TV, acted like TV and staged like TV.

A big, loud, sometimes clever, often dumb behemoth of a movie.

It's frustrating and still oddly likable.

Exciting, gory, funny and, like much of anime, a bit cheesy.

Basic essentially is a fun movie, surprise ending and all. To take it too seriously is to miss the point. Travolta is charming, his performance recapturing the old charisma.

A slick disappointment -- though there's much unintentional humor to be enjoyed.

Once you lose yourself in Ruiz's stunning achievement -- a wonderfully acted, beautifully realized vision of Proust -- you'll be enchanted.

Filled with too many issues -- along with young motherhood, street gangs, city life, sex, peer pressure, grief and, oh yes, dancing, which is nearly lost in so many poorly written subplots.

Though stilted and emotionally vacant at times, it's still an entertaining and absorbing experience.

Fails to be resonant and, more important, scary.

With very little dialogue and through what's essentially a gimmick, we come truly to like these guys.

The film isn't so much a demanding character study as it is a lot of pretty parts pushed together.

Judging by the beautiful photography of Salvatore Totino, Howard knows what a Western should look like. But the thrills suggested by the trailers, in which the picture is presented almost like a frightening supernatural horror story, are nowhere to be seen.

So what is the picture saying? With its uneven tone, flat direction (on bad-looking digital video) and varied performances, very little.

Works as pure escapist entertainment, but it's on the cusp of being smarter -- making it all the more frustrating.

So action-packed from start to finish that the final result is grating rather than thrilling.

There are movies that are made for the big screen, and movies that are made for the small screen; Passionada is the latter type.

A tiresome, hammy and ultimately annoying portrait of the artist as a young drunk.

Scattered and silly. If it evokes any strong feelings from you, it will probably be hunger -- the food all looks so good.