Journalists have a saying for someone who neglects or downplays the most important part of a news story: He buried the lead. That's what Paul Haggis does with "In the Valley of Elah," which submerges two important storylines beneath a pointless, unsatisfying whodunit.

“The Dirty Dozen,” one of my favorite war movies, will no doubt get a 50th-anniversary boxed set next year. Those of us who wait for it can mark time with Suicide Squad, which borrows the same concept and executes it with more lunacy and far less flair.

Parker's afraid that we'll be bored by the language alone, so he throws in absurdities.

The performances do shine out through this dramatic miasma.

For all the story's bland familiarity, it has winning moments. Allen's no actor, but he projects a likeable personality.

Executive Decision, a film as generic as its title, follows its 'subdue the terrorists' template by the numbers - but they're numbers that can work over and over, when handled as competently as they are here by director Stuart Baird. [15 Mar 1996, p.8E]

May wrestle with big ideas, but it does so through a succession of small emotional moments.

Amiable bundle of broad, easy laughs rather than bitingly fierce satire.

To my detached eye, this slender biography suggests that Curtis went from a faintly interested glam-rock wannabe of 16 to a mildly talented performer to a quietly glum fellow of 23 whose frustrations drove him to suicide.

The main message of this drama is driven home with emotional hammer blows.

Feuerzeig leaves a lot of territory unexplored. Why did people overlook his suffering and bizarre behavior for so long? Were they cold-hearted profiteers, onlookers enjoying a freak show or honestly ignorant of his troubles? Are there links between Johnston's creativity and madness?

If you want my rock-solid statement on whether The Fountain is a masterpiece or a muddle, check with me in 2026.

It makes "The Death of Mr. Lazarescu" and "12:08 East of Bucharest," the last glum Romanian movies about life under dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, seem merry.

Blethyn glides through the proceedings elegantly, a comic swan among ducks.

When we're outside Frank's body, Osmosis Jones drags. When we're inside him, it zooms.

You can also see Sylvia without realizing she could be witty and bemused, qualities apparent in her posthumously published novel, "The Bell Jar." This book, which spoke to sensitive girls of the 1960s like few others, is mentioned once in passing in the film. We never see her writing it or learn what it means to her.

I never did sort out the gangsters fighting for control of a 19th-century town, nor did I figure out exactly what happened to the main henchman. But I was rarely bored.

Bride has atmosphere and charm, but the exotic flavors have often been toned down to avoid complaints.

One of many small reasons to like The Recruit is that it pays homage to Kurt Vonnegut, a forgotten old lion of literature.

Many shallower movies these days seem too long, but this one is egregiously short.

I groaned at cliches and grinned at jokes in roughly equal measure.

Won't startle or surprise you but will satisfy your need to see good actors at work.

I think Garland and Boyle just want to make our flesh creep by showing someone else's flesh decaying. If that's their aim, they achieved it.

It paints its world in pastels, but the subject cries out for vivid colors.

Over the course of 108 minutes, The Royal Tenenbaums drops downward on the humor scale from hilarious to funny to quirky to pretentiously bizarre to chaotic.

Writer-director Lisa Krueger bends over backward to make everyone happy.

The strongest parts of the film aren't these money shots, but the buildup to the gunplay.

Seamless, funny and startling. Anybody who thinks Keaton always does tiny variations on the same sardonic character - making him a bit more tight-lipped, say, when donning a Batsuit - will be surprised by the variety of his skills here. [19 July 1996, p.3E]