Robert K. Elder

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

Overnight's only narrative hole is an inability to pinpoint why Miramax stonewalled him.

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

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.

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

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

It's not revolutionary filmmaking. But Seducing Doctor Lewis sails by on charm and confident character acting, even if it's navigating well-charted waters.

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

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.

Presented with such confidence, such care, that we love all of the characters, even if we don't like them.

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.

McKee, like Amenabar, knows how to position his film against type -- which ultimately makes May a refreshing, macabre tale.

Ends up a few frames short of the perfect horror film, but very few.

Gets under your skin with laughs that are fast, slick and slippery and with visuals as vivid as anything this side of Demerol.

Commits the cardinal sin of not being quite as funny as its star.

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

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.

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.

Twohy pulls all the strings to create an inventive genre piece.

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.

Commits the cardinal sin of all bad IMAX films: It favors visuals over narrative, glitter over substance.

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.

Limps along on a squirm-inducing fish-out-of-water formula that goes nowhere and goes there very, very slowly.

Tries hard to be sweet but plays like "Pollyanna" with fleas.

Breaks through as a delightful, surprisingly fresh comedy.

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.

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.

Sky Blue slows things down, creating a ponderous, almost languid movie-going experience.