V.A. Musetto

Clichéd stories, clichéd characters. All that's missing is Ed Burns.

An example of style over substance. There's lots of slo-mo and jittery hand-held camera work, and references to the French New Wave (especially François Truffaut), but little depth.

Curse of the Golden Flower could also be called "Curse of 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.' " In other words, it is yet another attempt to cash in on the success of Ang Lee's 2000 martial-arts epic, which will go down in the history books as one of the most overrated films of the decade.

Features crisp dialogue and understated humor, played out by an attractive young cast. Audiences bred on Hollywood romances might find the film too chatty and contemplative. To them I say: Get over it, kids!

Enlightening.

Chiara Mastroianni, whose mom, Catherine Deneuve, starred in Demy's "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" (1964), appears here as Julie's sister. Vive la New Wave.

Tackling serious issues with humor and understanding, the film portrays Mona's woes as a microcosm of the entire mess in the Middle East.

Paine doesn't hide his liberal mind-set, but he lets all sides - from GM suits to Ralph Nader - have their say. By the closing credits, there's little doubt who killed the electric car.

There are no talking heads, but lots of singing heads and sexy dancing bodies, many of them belonging to stars in Spain. In total, there are more than a dozen performance pieces, all stylishly lensed.

They take a mundane story and give it emotional resonance.

Veteran stage, screen and TV actor Moshe Ivgi gives a sturdy performance as Moshe, a supposed tough guy who sobs when confronted by bank robbers.

The faint of heart might want to leave early. If you elect to stay, remember: You were warned.

Spanish director Achero Manas' El Bola shows how the boys' bond leads to salvation of a sort for the needy Pellet. He does so with great sensitivity, never sinking into exploitation.

Moves along briskly, with several laugh-out-loud moments.

Caramel, by the way, gets its name from a blend of sugar, lemon juice and water that is boiled until it turns into a paste used to remove unwanted hair in the Middle East.

Director-writer Jang Jun-hwan starts things off with a bang and never looks back, pushing up the excitement periodically.

The effect is informative and moving, even if the film has an attack of the gooeys at the end.

An animated feature that revels in its low-tech wackiness.

Lets both sides sound off without offering a spin of its own. [12 Jan 2005, p.70]

While I have no argument with Leeson's political views, her presentation -- mostly a succession of talking heads -- is dry and uninspired. These women deserve better.

Is nothing sacred? In the schizophrenic war epic The War lords, Jet Li, the hunky action hero, cries -- no, make that sobs -- several times. What will his legion of young male fans think?

The Japanese whalers are clearly in violation of international law, but no government is willing to take action. That leaves it up to ragtag groups such as the Sea Shepherds to do their best to shut down the whalers. The planet owes them a big "thank you."

Paints an entertaining picture of the cherubic gentleman, who as the first curator of contemporary art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art brought new excitement to the stodgy institution.

The result is, alas, competent but unexceptional.

The indie film is funny and, at times, heartbreaking. Wisely, it avoids the happy ending that Hollywood would have insisted upon.

There's not enough here to justify the almost two hours.

What do you get when you mix a Douglas Sirk melodrama with a Sergio Leone Western? Tears of the Black Tiger, a high-camp Western from, of all places, Thailand.

The actors can't escape the confines of the warmed-over, coming-of-age-in-suburbia script by Mills, from a novel by Walter Kirn.