Paula Nechak

The script, written 20 years ago by the late, great director John Cassavetes, still packs an emotional wallop. [21 Mar 1998]

There is a certain poignancy to a film that metaphorically examines the stages of a woman's life through each character.

It has a frenetic, unsettled edginess that chafes against its serene, woodsy, upscale private school setting.

Gorgeously evocative visually.

It's more strangely and elementally touching than its predecessors.

Works best when it devotes itself to the small group of main characters featured on the show.

The Cockettes is a fascinating poke into the soul of the '60s and it moves past a simple chronology of a counterculture phenomenon to examine how this predecessor to glitter rock and camp movies, such as "The Rocky Horror Show," could ever have ascended to such heights.

An empowering film for children, showing them at their most capable, working through problems and finding innovative solutions to overcome what seems like an insurmountable obstacle.

What results is, for a film purporting to reflect the nobility of a beloved book, the propensity to slip occasionally into the fart and belch slapstick that passes for humor in just about every present-day animated movie. It's a misstep that pulls us out of our awe for the carefully studied world the filmmakers have lovingly labored to create.

In the end, dark comedy drives the film, but it's overwhelmed by a desire to be liked, really liked.

Attempts to do for "The Big Sleep"-type detective movie and film-noir genre what "Blair Witch" did for horror films.

Quite long and violent enough to have made several critics squirm in their seats during a recent press screening.

The movie is reminiscent of the films of Claude Sautet but it has a grittier, more youthful appeal. Still, it's just as nuanced and rich in all its messy revelation. [21 May 1999]

Isn't very pretty despite its extraordinary look. In fact, the film is downright queasy and unsettling.

Has enough simmering beneath its sweaty, grimy and disconsolate surface to be more than just another rite-of-passage missive set in the '70s.

Though the cast is talented, the script is a mess. It's essentially a collision of missed opportunities.

Jindabyne is uniquely Australian, dealing with Australian issues, and it boasts a wickedly wry conclusion that -- for everything that has come before -- is karmically just.

A difficult movie. Its obvious, heavy symbolism, glaring soundtrack and top-heavy themes threaten to make it implode, but it's saved by its performances.

Swicord has enough savvy to conjure up a terrific cast that compensates for her rote direction.

A shapeless comedy that is enjoyable to watch and often clever with its barbs -- and doesn't have very much to say.

Often as stillborn in pace as it is conceptually compelling.

For all its somber heaviness and reverential gravity, it never quite pulls all the elements and themes together.

The result is a movie that washes down without much thinking or introspection, provides some laughs and a tear or two, and dishes up a little something to mull over with its messages about friendship and loyalty in the face of naked ambition.

Since we never see Thomas, we can't care for him. And he's hardly a sympathetic "hero" in his treatment of women and his insistence that other characters honor his personal boundaries while he ignores theirs.

In the end, this is a film about retribution and justice within unjust circumstances. Each character has a personal code of honor -- Arthur, Charlie and Capt. Stanley are all given their dignity -- and it's that code that sets the film apart.

Terrifically fun entertainment; wonderfully shot and acted, instilled with spirit and life and able to woo us with its exhuberant freshness.

This nifty little addition to the Winnie the Pooh franchise boasts some nice touches.

A darkly funny journey about life ticking by and the change to make wrongs right.