The film has an odd subterranean power. It doesn't strive for our sympathy or make any effort to portray Rosetta as colorful, winning or sympathetic.

The quality of the acting is so much better than the material deserves.

As the final hour approaches for the characters in Last Night, there are moments of startling poignancy.

Power to absorb, entertain and anger.

About two men who both wanted to be dominant, who both had all the answers, who were inseparably bound together in love and hate, and who created extraordinary work--while all the time each resented the other's contribution.

A very funny, sometimes very sad documentary.

Has moments of great imagination.

This one basically just sticks to the real story, which has all the emotional wallop that's needed.

One of the most visually inventive films I have ever seen.

Either Being John Malkovich gets nominated for best picture, or the members of the Academy need portals into their brains.

I kind of like the idea: A cheesy '80s band called the Suburbans reunites for a tribute album. I kind of like the cast: Everyone from Jennifer Love Hewitt to Robert Loggia pops up. I even kind of liked their "hit song," and probably would have bought their album in my teens. But it's impossible to like this movie, and there's no kind way to say it. [29 Oct 1999, p.30]

Mired in a plot of such stupidity.

Suffers from a fatal misapprehension. It thinks it is about date rape, when actually it is about alcoholism.

An ungainly fit of three stories that have no business being shoehorned into the same movie.

A direct, spare, touching film.

To look at Bringing Out the Dead --to look, indeed, at almost any Scorsese film--is to be reminded that film can touch us urgently and deeply.

A sad-sack movie about the misery of a married couple who fight most of the time. Watching it is like taking a long trip in a small car with the Bickersons.

Too much self-pity.

It's a funny homage, a nod to the way that some movies are universal in their appeal.

It seems at first to be merely a jumble of discordant images ("Freaks" shot by the "Blair Witch" crew) but then, if you stay with it, the pattern emerges from the jumble.

The first time I saw The Straight Story, I focused on the foreground and liked it. The second time I focused on the background, too, and loved it.

But the second act is pandering and the third is trickery, and whatever Fincher thinks the message is, that's not what most audience members will get.

The fundamental problem is the point of view.

In its quiet and murderous way, it is like the delayed final act of an old movie about drugs, guns and revenge.

Too bad the Catholic League is so busy attacking good films, like "Dogma," that it can't spare the time to picket bad ones.

One of the best films of the year.

This is one of those comedies that doesn't pound us on the head with the obvious, but simply lets us share vast amusement.

Could metamorphose into an entertaining sitcom.