Steve Simels

Manipulative but fitfully entertaining "Twilight Zone"-ish comedy of redemption.

The picture is nearly stolen, however, by co-star Greg Germann (of TV's Ally McBeal) in the role of Joe's company's resident corporate weasel. Germann's squinty-eyed insincerity is truly a marvel to behold, and it's an astringent corrective to the film's rather too frequent feel-good passages.

An often spectacular but ultimately rather tedious musical/adventure/comedy.

It's a good thing the two rappers are such utterly natural actors, armed with terrific comic timing.

Veers inconsistently between sit-com jokeiness and nostril-flaring melodrama.

Glacially slow going.

The plot is Kate-Moss thin. Basically agreeable stuff, but not much more. And that's a shame.

As a director, La Salle manages to sustain a mood of looming menace almost throughout, and as an actor he gets the film's best joke: When his Satan fills out his hospital admission form, he gives his social security number as 666.

The film delivers some genuine laughs — Diggs and Anderson are a hoot throughout — and real rapper Snoop Dogg all but steals the picture with his brief voice turn as Ronnie Rizzat.

Not only one of the most spectacular cartoons ever made, but also a reasonably adult piece of sci-fi.

Sally Field has actually made a likeable movie.

Mildly amusing and as obvious as it is good-natured.

A hick-town, screwball comedy version of "Dog Day Afternoon," and surprisingly palatable despite its sitcom soul and star.

While not for every taste, this often very funny collegiate gross-out comedy goes a long way toward restoring the luster of the National Lampoon film franchise.

You have to have a certain affection for any movie in which a stressed-out Mother Nature announces ominously, "Don't mess with me -- I'm pre-El Niño."

The cast is aces, and Peter Morgan's screenplay is both very sharp on male sexual politics and crammed with enough comic twists and turns to keep you interested.

To be fair, this is hardly the worst gross-out comedy ever made; it's nowhere as misogynistic as, say, "Tomcats," and in the end, it probably won't leave you in a state of utter nihilistic despair.

This broad, coarse farce is otherwise as insubstantial a piece of work as you could possibly imagine; in fact, a light breeze could blow it away.

Charming, low-key ensemble comedy that recalls the films of both John Cassavetes and Woody Allen, which is to say it's a loosely structured, quasi-improvisational saga about a bunch of New Yorkers obsessing about relationships.

An old-fashioned dinosaur opera, in the worst sense of the term. An obviously formulaic effort, designed more as a cash machine than a piece of cinema.

It may not be as epochal a piece of work as "Mean Streets," but packs what feels like a real-life punch none the less.

If this were a more mainstream film with a shot at a wider audience, we'd probably be talking Oscar nominations for Futterman and Ball.

Episodic, pretentious, and more than a little silly.

One conclusion is inescapable. You have really seen something you don't see every day.

A reasonably entertaining way to kill an hour and a half.

Without question the breeziest viewing experience now available at a multiplex near you.

This mix of sweat and uplift in the Civil Rights era doesn't quite come off, despite some strong performances and the fact that it's based on a genuinely inspirational true story.

Vince and Cesar have been written to evoke equal audience sympathy, so there's no suspense whatsover in the outcome of their climactic match-up, the brutal realism of Shelton's staging notwithstanding.