Robert K. Elder

It's Ferrell who is the vehicle, a mow-you-down comic engine, and everyone else is just along for the ride in this marginally effective, starkly unoriginal family comedy.

It's perhaps the first animated kids' film that can claim to be "based on a true story."

Stands a triumph of stunts over plot, of style over substance--of the wool we pull over our own eyes. It's brainless, high-speed, popcorn fun.

It's a compelling drama, if only a little hollow. For my money, Pacino's bark is ultimately better than Two For the Money's bite.

For all the whiz-bang visuals, however, "Little" could use a little consistency in tone.

Largely male gay sex, with nary a lesbian in sight, or in mind.

Ambitious, yes. Does it work? Not really. While it's genuinely cool to hear characters talk about early rap records (Sugar Hill Gang, etc.), the constant referencing of hip-hop arcana can alienate even the savviest audiences.

Sports movies are never easy to pull off, but Skolnick does a fine job of balancing the drama with the on-field action.

Able to provide insight into a fascinating part of theater history, spanning from Russia to the New York Catskills.

A confusing and not entirely believable ending clouds the issue, though, burying some fine performances and cinematography under an avalanche of gore and plot twists.

Farmanara, a gifted director, seems to be getting his artistic legs again, but he spends far too much time following his protagonist in and out of buildings as he smokes cigarettes and otherwise mopes about.

Succeeds as a guilty pleasure, a monster mash that clobbers the recent lackluster sequels plaguing both legacies. If only that were a higher compliment.

Hits more laughs than it misses and its characters are likable, empathetic people.

After clawing their way into the Olympics, so-called extreme sports deserve respect, but this is no way to get it.

Combining cutting-edge computer animation with traditional two-dimensional characters, Treasure Planet pops off the screen, reviving Stevenson's adventure with surprising accuracy.

Although bright, well-acted and thought-provoking, Tuck Everlasting suffers from a laconic pace and a lack of traditional action.

While sci-fi conceits still permeate the plot (alien DNA, rogue scientists), attention to personal detail float world-weary, superbly-drawn protagonists in a rare movie-a character-driven animated film.

Resonates and inspires rapid-fire bouts of laughter, perhaps even a few giggles from the author himself, whom posterity has rewarded the last laugh.

One of the few video game movies to truly re-create the gaming experience -- from the three-dimensional maps to the structure of encountering increasingly grisly and dangerous foes at higher levels of play.

A train wreck you can't help but watch.

Writer-director Peter Sehr displays obvious directing talent, especially in his use of nonlinear love scenes. He shows the coupling, the approach and release all at once, out of order, mixing the entire seduction ritual into one fluid montage.

Unlike the intrigue and winding switchback of moral mysteries that defined "L.A. Confidential," Dark Blue travels on flat, predictable terrain.

Call it a weepy for the gay community:The Trip is an oddly marketed, oddly titled romance. Yes, there is a trip, but it takes place during the last 15 minutes of the film and seems almost tangential.

This otherwise predictable romantic comedy does have several genuinely funny scenes, thanks to Monica Potter's comic delivery and charm.

This sequel succeeds as a slightly convoluted, paint-by-the-numbers buddy/action comedy with fast, funny banter and well-choreographed fight scenes.

Knows when to take itself seriously and when to laugh at itself -- even if its audience isn't laughing along at every gag.

As wide and deep as the directors fish for anecdotes, it's surprising that there isn't more focus, more context.

Captures a breathtaking exotic landscape cluttered only by the smugness of its characters.

Perhaps Figgis proves his unconventionality with Cold Creek Manor after all, creating a thriller without resorting to the genre's usual bag of tricks.

Has one other thing in common with "The Matrix Reloaded" -- too much story, too many angles.

As an intentionally campy film, Girls Will Be Girls dips a cinematic toe into shark-infested waters. Not only must it operate on several levels-making us care for deeply flawed characters and laugh at their bitter lashings-it also has to carry a cohesive story arc. On this count, Girls Will Be Girls fizzles a bit.

Errol Flynn deifies Gen. George Armstrong Custer in a silly though well-directed biopic. [25 May 2001, p.C1]

Isn't without charm, or laughs. Director Shawn Levy's film features some of the best child actor casting since "The Little Rascals."

While some pedestrian camerawork and spotty acting from supporting players deflate Love Object, it has enough juice - and a surprising twist - to keep fans of the slow-burn horror genre enthralled.

The notion that stories are the lies that tell the truth isn't new -- even Shakespeare knew that -- but the central conceit of "let's save lives by putting on a play" seems not only artificial, but also hollow.

The movie's computer-generated castles, magic visuals and sloppy effects echo a low-budget fantasy movie on cable. It's glossy, shiny candy that tastes oddly familiar yet lacks sugary punch.

Simply photographed and well acted, The Mudge Boy captures "Deliverance"-level disturbing images as it takes an unsentimental approach to its characters.

A Foreign Affair's flaws make it even more of an enigma, as graceless as it is endearing.

There's much to love about this "Rocky" on horseback, and those laughable blemishes just fold into jokes that Helgeland likely intends audiences to laugh at.

As a document of his history, it's breathtaking, inspiring stuff. As an overlong documentary, it still manages to be inspiring, but also an uphill viewing experience.

Might be best described as Thailand's version of "The Alamo."

Riddled with comic potholes.

Shackles its characters with stale dialogue straight out of decades-old Sgt. Rock comic books.

Sizzles for a half-hour, then fizzles.

The beautifully shot but dramatically strained I Am David falls prey to the defect of all poor road movies: In gluing together unbelievable but convenient episodes with sugary sentimentality, it loses most of its credibility.

Seems a little lightweight, even for a kids' movie.

Takes us to familiar lands but without any of the original's magic.

Whatever is lost in translation can't keep Appleseed from feeling a decade late--and its animation from looking like a relic on arrival.

A sweetly benign comedy that allows the actor (Jones) to lampoon his tough guy image honed in "The Fugitive" and "U.S. Marshals."

Though Katsuhiro Otomo's animated Victorian-era adventure Steamboy stars British characters, it's a Japanese film through and through.

Action films can't be this consistently absurd, can't paint their heroes into such dangerous corners, from which only cocktails of luck and divine intervention can save them, over and over. It's a bad-faith bargain with the audience and bad storytelling.

Gratuitous gore and young, nubile flesh bind together a cardboard plot.

Ultimately, it's Paul Giamatti ("Sideways"), playing Braddock's manager Joe Gould, who shines. In another actor's hands, Gould would be a secondary character lost in Crowe's shadow, but Giamatti outshines his co-stars at times with his everyman looks and delivery.

Exploits the epidemic of kidnapping in Venezuela without offering solutions or insight--only sophomoric platitudes. Jakubowicz's talents as a filmmaker are many, but crafting an articulate, well-examined social theory isn't among them.

There is a good movie here--Strait actually sings the songs that stand on their own, and he's appealing, despite the rock movie cliches.

Both Jackson and Levy are better than director Les Mayfield's ("Blue Streak") meandering comedy.

About overcoming adversity and one's innermost fears. On this count, Paxton hits the ball squarely in capturing the psychology of his characters, but hooks it into the sand trap of effects and thematic overselling.

Doom, the film, aspires to be more than just a gory shoot em' up--though it'd still be a stretch to call it a thinking man's action movie.

By forcing definition on Flux, the filmmakers rob her of any allure. What do they offer instead? Clumsy exposition, bland PG-13 gunfights and subpar computer animation.

Compared with Martin's first "Dozen" and the recent mega-family movie "Yours, Mine and Ours," this sequel is Academy Award material.

He's endearing and affable when finding humor and even introspective life lessons after arrests, drug use and a near-death experience.

Diamond Men's potential as a diamond in the rough turn out to be more "rough" than "diamond."

Spears delivers a performance with the same sincerity she invests into a Pepsi commercial, only this film contains twice the sugary calories.

Oscillates between pragmatist genius and B-movie mediocrity.

Splashes its drama all over the screen, subjecting its audience and characters to action that feels not only manufactured, but also so false you can see the filmmakers' puppet strings.

It's one thing for a script to set the framework for an action film -- it's quite another when the script gets in the way.

If you can simply get lost in the crushing splendor of the waves themselves, the script might not leave you so seasick.

The director's lack of restraint and overabundance of ambition makes "Altar Boys" not boring, but troubled.

First-time director Paul Hunter delivers a quick-cut, loud movie that betrays his MTV roots -- but then again, the script never demands that he do much more than exactly that.

Unfortunately, the home-run performances of Cube and Epps are handicapped by inept and illogical action sequences.

Like too many sports-related movies, this one falls back on that One Big Game, the final score that will set everything right.

A magic-meets-macho cop movie that's more gimmick than actual movie.

Muddles through as a film so uninterested in character, it doesn't bother assigning names to them.

Sonnenfeld mishandles the broad part of the comedic formula, preferring repetition to thematic development.

While Reyes seeks his own ambitious style, he can't quite step out from under De Palma's shadow and thematic choices. Everything from the voiceover narration to the final frame in Empire looks and feels like a low-budget hybrid of "Scarface" or "Carlito's Way."

Suit #3: But what will we call the sequel? Suit #1: "XXXX"? Suit #2: Brilliant!

Like Ice Cube's "Friday," How High probably will survive as an underground classic, until it's pushed further underground and forgotten by the next disposable "cult classic" to hit video.

Plays so flat, so to close its "movie message" formula, that it seems as if we've seen this movie before.

Leaves us puzzled as to why the term "damned" applies at all, when vampirism is depicted as so cool, fashion-savvy and glamorous.

Hotel might be best described as the art-house version of "Cannonball Run."

Sacrificing content for style, Caruso gives us a lot to look at but little to ponder.

It's an event film, all about flash and spectacle, even though the movie itself is void of any real substance.

When Serving Sara reaches beyond its grasp and dreams big, Perry and Hurley float the movie on aplomb and wit. When the film gears down for slower-paced set pieces and disposable villains, its stars find themselves knee-deep in a giant comedy cow pie.

Faces the same problem of all sex-themed films, in that cinematic sex is often unsexy.

Scary Movie 2 had seven writers. Seven. That's one writer for every big laugh in its stealthy 82 minutes. More frightening: these jokes are worth waiting for.

It can't help but fall prey itself to a final deadly genre cliché: Its soundtrack outsparkles the movie.

This sophomoric little gimmick picture -- although at times, serving as no more than a showcase for daredevil snowboarding -- provides enough powder power to keep the audience laughing, even over the rocky parts.

An old-fashioned comedy. And in this case, "old-fashioned" means tired, out of date and so abominably blah that you'll fall asleep in your popcorn.

Although his is not a perfect film, Tollin employs his soap-opera dialogue and aim-for-the-solar-plexus message quite unapologetically.

Plot doesn't matter much here, as Scary Movie 3 exists solely to reference and lampoon other movies, in this case "The Ring," "Signs " and "8 Mile."

The words "Welcome foolish mortals" open Walt Disney Pictures' The Haunted Mansion, a movie based on Disneyland and Walt Disney World's classic theme park attractions. The foolish mortals, of course, would be those who pay $9 a ticket at the door.

Has the shelf life of a dented milk carton. Pop-culture movies in general age rapidly due to ever-changing slang and fashions.

In his thoughtfully paced, well-acted film, Hoge doesn't set out to solve the "why" of Leland's ghastly crime. He's more interested in examining the reason why society needs to create and interpret a reason for horror.

Downright scary in some places, Godsend might be more potent if it wasn't watered down by religious trope predictability.

The cinematic Garfield: The Movie feels like an 82-minute commercial for Garfield, The Brand rather than cinematic dumb fun.

Might be justified as "mindless fun" if it weren't for the acute lack of fun in its 93 minutes.

Jakes' characters are points to be made, flesh and blood cautionary tales that don't particularly feel human. His dialogue, even in the mouths of Michelle and her troubled mother, sounds as if it comes straight from the pulpit.

Worst of all, though, is the movie's moral maneuvering.