Mark Caro

Cunningham's and Woolf's novels are dedicated to capturing a person's essence through the events of a single day, and Daldry's film is faithful to that aim. But the range of life presented here feels constricted; the movie misses the sublime for all of the despair.

The movie sticks with you, thanks to LaBute's observational powers and the three impressive lead performances. [15 August 1997, Friday, p.C]

Boasts all of the drama and suspense of any reality TV show, but it actually stars smart people. And they're kids.

One may gripe that the tale at times seems familiar, yet that familiarity is also part of the movie's power: Here's a story from halfway around the world that somehow connects with the hearts of viewers of almost any culture.

Although Star Maps has some merit as a mood piece, Arteta's treatment of the audience has parallels to Pepe's treatment of Carlos, as he hammers home a message of no hope. [8 Aug 1997, p.K]

There's something simple yet miraculous about watching these beautiful animals interact with the wild and each other, even if their actions are being manipulated for the sake of drama. Annaud has taken his film's message to heart: He knows when to get out of nature's way.

The climax, featuring what's essentially a suspended roller coaster of closet doors, is as thrilling as it is imaginative.

A visual and aural feast that combines elements of classic gangster melodramas, crime epics such as "The Godfather" and playful non-linear narratives such as "Amores Perros," City of God explores a deadly culture while feeling more alive than anything that's hit the big screen in years.

The characters may be speaking Chinese, but such rousing entertainment needs no translation.

Control Room isn't a systematic dissection of Al Jazeera's possible biases regarding the U.S. or Israel; it's noted that Arabs almost invariably view the war with Iraq in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict while Americans rarely do.

Violence may provide entertainment value in more crass or commercially minded projects, but in the unflinching world of Affliction, it leads only to the ruination of your soul. [5 February 1999, Friday, p.D]

This movie is phony, phony, phony -- from its Disneyland version of the Deep South to its pious lessons about the values of simple rural living.

Plays more like a gritty, episodic British independent film powered by a soundtrack of Who songs that illuminate the main character's turbulent emotions.

Gripping in purely cinematic terms as an imaginatively told tale of sibling rivalry and the pressures of great expectations.

Smart and well-crafted, and it boasts complex characters, effective star turns and evocative photography of a small Alaskan town in summertime, when the sun never sets. It's a solid Hollywood thriller.

Kutcher delivers a credibly serious performance as Evan, and he's surrounded by a skilled supporting cast.

A brilliant, absurd collection of vignettes that, in their own idiosyncratic way, sum up the strange horror of life in the new millennium.

Family life rarely is portrayed with such warmth, clarity and vibrancy as in In America.

You wouldn't think the darn thing would have such lingering power.

Captures the complex dynamic of a mentoring relationship like few movies before it.

The upside is that they're likable and play well together...The downside is that they're all still communicating roughly the same message, which lies somewhere between a wink and a nudge.

A surprisingly insightful, non-judgmental meditation on a troubled marriage-with-kids.

House Party aims for the mainstream and hits it- perhaps too often.

Gordy barely is mentioned, even though he was the artistic leader who presumably profited most from the Funk Brothers' labors. Discussing Motown solely through the prism of the musicians is like assessing Picasso's works on the basis of the paint quality.

More flat-out funny than "Rushmore," but in neither film is the humor joke-based. What you're laughing at is the behavior of characters who are so fixed in their idiosyncratic worldviews that they can't help but careen into each other like out-of-control bumper cars.

There's good pulp and bad pulp, and for most of its duration, Joy Ride is quality stuff.

You can interpret Lost in La Mancha as a sort of triumph of the creative spirit. Gilliam's darkest gallows humor always comes with a smile.

Shrek is something of a poignant hero here and not terribly ogre-like; Myers obviously wasn't being paid per giggle generated. Diaz's Fiona feels increasingly fleshed out, while the "annoying talking animals" provide most of the laughs.