Rene Rodriguez

Initially sounds perverted but ends up being just the opposite.

Humpday sells its admittedly far-fetched premise by illustrating how men often can't help but behave like stubborn children in the company of their friends -- even when the stakes are raised to ridiculous levels.

It's a mean, incendiary picture that, below the surface, relies on racial hatred (as in white vs. black) to propel its story. But Trespass does deliver a roller coaster ride of blazing guns, heroic machismo and bullet-riddled bodies. The unsavoriness that propels some of those thrills is simply part of the game. [26 Dec 1992, p.E4]

You come away from Mud fondly remembering those two boys, especially Ellis, who has taken his first steps toward adulthood and discovers it suits him just fine.

The result is a rare live-action Disney movie that merits comparison to its beloved feature-length cartoons.

The movie is so cheerfully, furiously relentless, its contagious silliness wears you down.

A brisk and lively cinematic Cliff's Notes of the 2005 nonfiction bestseller that made the lofty promise to reveal "the hidden side of everything."

The movie leaves you feeling angry and frustrated anyway. And justice for all? Hardly.

Will Noah anger some rigid purists and scholars because of the liberties it takes? Perhaps. But the point to take home is the message the movie leaves you with, which works regardless of your faith (or lack thereof). Humans are inherently flawed. How we deal with those defects is what truly matters.

What ensues is a love story ringed by barbed wire and etched in blood with the jagged neck of a broken beer bottle.

By film’s end, everyone has been transformed for the worst. Heli is a troubling and upsetting picture, a portrait of a broken country that seems to be beyond repair and a depiction of how violence and corruption, when left unchecked, taints saints and sinners alike, sparing no one.

The film seems simple and facile at a glance, but these characters and their dilemmas stay with you. These days, any of us could suddenly be Larry Crowne.

This long, gorgeous, occasionally maddening movie is the work of a hopeless romantic who knows there is no pain as bittersweet -- or as haunting -- as the pain of a broken heart.

A thoroughly satisfying and engaging children's picture that never forgets those kids probably didn't get to the theater by themselves.

The movie has an exhilarating energy that is never exhausting, and the filmmaker’s trademark excesses, although toned down, are still at play. The meek should be wary; for everyone else, it’s party time.

A savage, insane movie - in the best way possible.

What Sunshine State lacks in momentum, it makes up for with a Dickensian sprawl of characters -- 50 in all -- who possess the depth and humanity that has become a Sayles trademark.

Even by Miyazaki standards, Ponyo makes less narrative sense than it should, and the pat ending is a bit of a letdown.

With Moore’s formidable, Oscar-bound performance, the picture transcends the usual cliches of the genre to become something far more moving and profound.

The most dangerous evil of all -- the kind fueled by plain human greed -- lurks behind every twist of Red Rock West, proving once again it's often the simplest stories, when told with intelligence and creativity, that work best. [16 Sep 1994, p.G4]

Joy Ride is also surprisingly funny, thanks mostly to Zahn.

Feuerzeig presents an unyieldingly sympathetic but always fascinating portrait of an artist whose mental illness became inseparable from his art, with one often fueling the other.

The movie is not without its pleasures. Chief among them is Sean Connery's robust performance.

Using a semi-documentary approach, Glatzer and Westmoreland circumvent the considerable potential for sentimentality inherent in their story, instead taking a frank and direct approach to kids who, while far from hardened, are nowhere near innocent, either.

It's the cinematic equivalent of a good page-turner, and even if it's nonsense, its claws dig surprisingly deep.

Abel is a man with ideals in a world that has no use for them: If he’s going to succeed, he’s going to have to use his wits instead of bullets, and although the odds against him are formidable, watching his struggle is riveting entertainment.

In the movie’s best scene, Bisset lays into Depardieu with the rage and anger of a woman who has tolerated bad behavior for too long (there’s a fiery spontaneity to their verbal sparring that makes you wonder if the scene was improvised).

Style is the main attraction in The Limey -- it's as close to experimental filmmaking as mainstream movies get -- but the film works well when taken simply as a pure revenge drama, too.