Spiritual journeys, even if they’re comedies, don’t really lend themselves to the extreme, anal-retentive formalism found in every frame of The Darjeeling Limited.

Mamet being Mamet, the story has far greater repercussions than whether the kidnap victim will be returned to safety. This is a tale of grand conspiracies, formidable forces, shadow warfare; the more that is revealed, the higher the stakes become.

The best thing I can say about "Prelude to a Kiss" is that it seems fresh, daring its talented performers to play a couple in love. In 1992, that seems very bold. [10 Jul 1992, p.C]

The movie makes a worthwhile attempt to break down some thick emotional walls and, at the same time, tell a good story. That it is mostly successful in providing more than a few solid laughs and smiles--in what, after all, is a war picture--says a great deal. [28 Jul 1995, p.H]

Dreamgirls is performed, shot, edited and packaged like a coming-attractions trailer for itself. Ordinarily that would be enough to sink a film straight off, unless you're a fan of "Moulin Rouge." But this one's a good time.

Too often Coco mistakes chaos and calamity for comedy, and it’s a little perverse to prevent this particular story from becoming a full-on animated musical.

A genial if predictable romantic comedy about a couple of mismatched ice skaters who come together to try to win an Olympic medal in pairs figure skating. Oh, yes, they also fall in love. What results is sort of "Dirty Dancing on Ice," with Moira Kelly as a wealthy, spoiled, teenage ice princess with her own rink, and D.B. Sweeney as a rough-and-tumble hockey player at the end of his career. Directed by Paul Michael Glaser - yes, Starksy - directs cleanly, but the chemistry between the co-stars makes it work. [27 March 1992, p.C]

At its best, Hobbit 2, which carries the subtitle The Desolation of Smaug, invites comparisons to Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" threesome.

Whatever the film's limitations, it's certainly engaging to watch. As is Mohamed Fellag, as Lazhar.

Some of Cregger’s swings between straight-up horror, missing children mystery and deliriously gory comedy may lead to mass audience whiplash. But it’s pretty gripping, fiercely well-acted and — paradoxically, given its devotion to pitch-black cold creeps — one of the bright lights of a generally disappointing movie summer.

A smooth-swinging fable that lays solid wood on the issues that matter. [15 July 1994, p.F]

There's just enough neurotic or sharp badinage and Rodeo Drive realism to make it all go down easy.

Aiding Barber is the terrific work of choreographer Hinton Battle, delivering a ferocious, contemporary update of swing and bridging the gap between quick-take MTV flash and the longer needs of cinematic dancing--a hybrid that works better here than in the frenetic, overrated "Chicago."

The film, like its lovers, is fond, giddy and poetic about love and death.

Prince of Darkness is a real tour de force, and a welcome return.

Despite the familiarity of its themes — the bottom-feeding news media; the pathology born of extreme isolation and a little too much online time; the American can-do spirit, perverted into something poisonous — Gilroy's clever, skeezy little noir is worth a prowl.

It’s slow--make that very slow--and the final half hour or so is mystifying and tedious. But it gorgeously recalls Fellini and “Koyaanisqatsi” and hauntingly pits ancient tradition against science, oppression and industrial rot.

The film basically and improbably works, even with some limitations.

The key to the film, however, is the joyous performance of Mike Myers, who plays both the Beatle-mopped Austin Powers and the bald-headed Dr. Evil.

At the end, we're left with a desire to hear even more of this music and hang out a little longer with these musicians.

A knockout one minute, a punch-drunk crazy film the next, Interstellar is a highly stimulating mess. Emotionally it's also a mess, and that's what makes it worth its 165 minutes — minutes made possible by co-writer and director Christopher Nolan's prior global success with his brooding, increasingly nasty "Batman" films, and with the commercially viable head-trip that was "Inception."

It’s half-crock and half-sublime, which seems about right for its subject.

The results offer a collective shiver (not a lot of shrieks here) for those in the mood for sprightly, short-form misfortune.

Klapisch frequently uses voiceovers to express Xavier’s thoughts, and Duris expresses those thoughts beautifully, with a quirky open face, tuned perfectly to whatever his character is thinking.

At its best, it's buoyant pop entertainment focused on three things: speed, racing and retina-splitting oceans of digitally captured color.

Director Hancock knows a few things about directing crowd-pleasing heartwarmers, having made "The Blind Side." This one wouldn't work without Thompson.

A small, delicate concoction of moods and moments, far quieter than all the current Phoenix-related hoopla. But his heartbreaking performance may incline audiences to think of him in a new light, or at least return to thinking of him in the old one.

It moves with confidence; it’s vivid; it pulls off a riskier, full-on musical fantasy version of one pop superstar’s story.