Sure there are niggles, the most obvious being the length, which could have been reduced by trimming the prison sequences, but in the end this may be his finest moment so far which, by default, puts it in as having a strong claim on the title "best action movie ever made". Really.

Kusturica is sturdier on style than substance.

Speed 2 is a well-above-average armrest-gripper with little in it to upset the children excepting, perhaps, Dafoe's lengthy white teeth, and the fact that UB40 provide onboard cabaret.

Yes, disbelief is required not so much to be suspended as removed altogether, but it barely matters as this is an adrenaline blast of the highest order.

Here both Greenaway's strengths and weaknesses are on show as he toys with the viewers' capacity to ingest blurring metaphors and convoluted content.

Ryan and Broderick, while individually first-rate, don't combine as sexily as they ought, making the inevitable outcome a little too pat in an otherwise genre-bucking affair.

There was no way, no matter how much Spielberg flounce was imbued in this sprightly sequel, that it was going to be as good as the original. It isn't. By a long shot. But even two thirds of the way toward Jurassic Park is about a third better than your average buster of blocks.

However, writer-director Mark Herman never really achieves the correct balance between the serious and the feelgood, allowing an uneasy tone to prevail, while the small screen style and supporting cast of familiar TV faces suggests this would play more comfortably on the box.

Potentially horribly worthy, or even irritatingly superficial, the film succeeds simply by not trying to be too clever or too intense.

It's good to know that the widely liked but underused Andy Garcia has here a juicy dramatic role he can get his chops into.

A very text-book example of two actors better than the material, Crystal and Williams do their best but can't elevate this far.

Inferior teen drugs-drama, lacking depth and a point.

The great thing about Breakdown is simply that what you see is what you get. Want 90 minutes of edge of the seat tension? You got it. Want an unravelling nightmare that stays with you long after the movie? You got it.

Ultimately, Irma Vep doesn't quite have the courage of its convictions, but still provides plenty of scathing satire on the state of French cinema.

But for anyone willing to swallow a large pinch of salt there is much to enjoy in the film's numerous nail-munching, white-knuckle set-pieces variously employing firetruck ladders, subway trains and a finale so ridiculous that it just... might... work.

Though it might charitably be described as "a load of old cods", there is a certain entertainment value to Murder At 1600.

With such strong acting support from Paxton and Margulies, Green could have produced a dynamic drama. With muddled characterisation, a slight script and an over-the-top ending, it emerges as an ill-conceived attempt to make a thriller out of almost nothing.

A damp squib of a movie.

The movie provides a fair number of laughs, even if you can't help wondering how many of them were actually intentional.

Shohei's journey from unhappy worker bee - the early scenes are cleverly sketched to show his mundane routine without ever themselves being boring - to rejuvenated free spirit is credible, actually earning the film's final emotional wallop. Irresistible.

What lifts this at key moments is the outstanding Phoenix's simpatico performance and we can add to the credit side happy casting that for once has assembled actresses and actors who really do resemble each other and present plausible siblings.

There's no lack of style or pace from Noyce, just the sense that it isn't quite gelling together.

Croghan accurately illustrates the frustrations of a charismatic bunch of characters who are frank, funny and full of life.

The emphasis on character in Rambo scribe Kevin Jarre's screenplay (aided by Vincent Patrick and David Aaron Cohen) gives the film unexpected maturity.

It's worth hanging on for the spice of the closing credit outtakes, which effectively rounds off a reliably entertaining slice of comic nonsense.

However, as with Dead Ringers, Cronenberg approaches a touchy concept with a mixture of icy tact and cinematic daring, always informing the wilfully perverse material with a penetrating intelligence and (almost subliminally) very black wit.

Love Jones is fun, at least for the first hour, after which the melodrama takes over and the characters stop being witty and become schmaltzy instead.

Director Thomas applies the deft comic touch which made The Brady Bunch Movie (similarly ignored outside the US) such a hoot, to make for a deliriously funny, frequently outrageous romp.

It does become marginally less cringe-making in the latter half, but aside from a hilarious set piece involving a cat/tranquilliser dart interface and a vaguely entertaining Russian Mafia subplot, this is tired stuff which should have stayed at home.

The Daytrippers is an assured debut which engages the brain as well as tweaking the laughter lines.

After the disastrous "The House Of The Spirits," Bille August should know from experience to leave good novels well alone.

This is delightfully bonkers; an eerie and edgy outpouring that makes Twin Peaks look like Moonlighting.

A film that is entertaining but not seriously absorbing.

It has a tendency to drift aimlessly and, having said all there is to say on the subject long before the two hours are up, loiters around when it really ought to have gone to bed.

This is yet another one of those mindlessly enjoyable outings which eschews such unimportant details as plot or characterisation in favour of the biggest, flashiest special effects money can buy. Twister with lava, if you will.

The tension revs along nicely and - if you're not heisted out already - there's some suspense to be had.

Well below anything else Eddie did before it. Needs a tighter script and a more confident performance.

Unpretentiously and likeable Peter Hyams is one of the few hacks still working at this budget level, and he relishes the chance to make an audience jump, not only with some neat monster effects and a pile of mutilated corpses but also with some subtleties of editing and lighting, plus one of the loudest jump-out-of-your-seat soundtracks in a recent memory.

Madonna knocks herself out and deserves cheers for the emotional range and humanity with which she sings in Alan Parker's spectacular film. But whether you think the movie is great or grisly, rests in large part on your palate for Andrew Lloyd Webber's music.

The script is clichéd and uninspired, the tone veering uneasily between unamusing comedy and over-sincere drama, all theological issues are weakly circumvented and the characters hardly relate to each other, let alone to any of their onscreen activities.

Remote, murky and interminable.

The plot pulls you along at breakneck speed, so the plausibility of two US leaders on the lam matters not a jot. What does matter, however, is the excellent script which has a kiss-off line at least once every five seconds and keeps the mush down to an absolute minimum.

Minus delightful stars, this would be laboured indeed. Thanks to them, it scrapes along as modestly appealing fluff.

Great actors do what they can in a simple and largely unaffecting story.

In typical Rob Cohen fashion, it does exactly what it says on the tin. But that's all it needs to be the visceral rollercoaster ride we all expect.

In this almost perfect screen adaptation, the lingering question is the most important one: what caused such madness?

Unfortunately, left alone on the big screen, distinctly thin characterisation and a plot that looks like a distended television episode, let the new crew down slightly but there are still enough classic moments to keep fans happy.

The one saving grace is Lloyd, who gives a terrific and lively portrayal despite some horribly sentimental lines. He is the movie's guiding star, a lone bright light in a string of dud bulbs. Otherwise, beware.

Ridiculously good.

Although this may sometimes appear to be simply a bawdy soap opera, first-time director Prechezer injects such joie de vivre into proceedings that it scarcely matters.

Undemanding, entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable.

As frustrating as it is rewarding.

The big surprise and highlight is not in the clumsily structured, jerky plot of the monotonous mood but an uncredited Robin Williams, actually chilling as a mad bomber anarchist.

Baz Luhrmann takes the audience on a unique ride through one of the Bard's best-known texts, illuminating the story, occasionally subjugating the language but always delivering a vision that is bold, brassy, hugely inventive and accessible and, in a strange way, just right.

A brave, powerful, far from comfortable and distinctly English affair that bears all the hallmarks of a labour of love rather than an example of intellectual folly.

After bowing to Hollywood studio demands with Girl 6, Lee has gone small, lean and provocative again with this smart, multi-layered take on the African-American experience.

No fun at all.

Jordan has, though, made an important film, based on the wise predication that only through understanding can come peace. And if that sounds a bit pompous, it's also a damn good trip to the flicks.

Most of the fun comes from the Davis/Jackson pairing and some frantic action scenes, though problems include too many "meanigful" close-ups of cigarettes being lit and booming (appropriately) sound.

There are effective moments, a dime clutching tot watching an ice cream van plough gently into a garden wall after its driver has a heart attack, gives a stylish laugh, but at the end of the day perhaps a trip to the bar will be more fun.

You will jump out of your seat then wince at every kill, but you won't leave the cinema thinking you've seen a classic. Which is a crying shame.

Beautiful and original.

Lovingly designed in black and white, and played with a nice sense of irony, this offers the not unappealing spectacle of gorgeous, funny, clever women making fools of hard-boiled Mafia guys.

This is a lightweight but utterly loveable affair which proves Hanks is as assured behind the camera as in front of it.

As the plot gets even worse than that of a bad serial killer movie, not even the OK fight scene at the end can redeem it.

Unfortunately shallow characterisation, a script so laid-back you can almost hear it snoring and the occasional outburst of hokey dialogue lead to a movie a good deal less charming than it thinks it is.

But what starts out so promisingly with some witty one-liners loses itself in the middle and finally descends into a slapstick routine that cries out for a touch of sophistication.

The film's real strength is the way it sounds, with Ry Cooder's jangling score competing with thunderous gunplay for the shell-like's appreciative attention.

A director who can't decide whether he's aiming for high comedy or gritty noirishness combine to shoot the whole caboodle squarely in the foot.

It's a genuine delight and a definite thumbs aloft for kids of about six upwards.

The whole madcap production is at best faintly amusing, at worst, painfully protracted

The road-crime movie is such a formula in Hollywood that almost every debuting director turns one out, but writer-director Matthew Bright rings the changes by modeling this white trash nightmare on Red Riding Hood.

A pleasant package then, easy on the eye, and gently charming but, like The Brothers McMullen, one which places Burns as a comfortable rather than cutting-edge moviemaker.

Shelton keeps the humour straight down the middle and, just like "Bull Durham" before it, uses the rituals and metaphors of sport to relate the complexities of love and relationships.

The rapid-fire editing and glossy photography can't disguise The Fan's hollowness or De Niro's phoned in performance. A disappointment.

Many will find Kansas City unbearable, because Leigh (with a mouth full of jagged teeth and a permanent snarl) and Richardson (who totters along in a druggy stupour), give brilliant performances as extremely unpleasant characters. Furthermore, the ending is a real slap-in-the-face downer. But if you can get past that, this is the real stuff.

Oddly enough, the film scores with Bowie's spellbinding take on the ageing Warhol. Without this comedic but beautiful performance and an offbeat soundtrack, this is little more than wet paint.

The formula for Robin Williams' childish stick wares dangerously thin this time out.

A monumentally misconceived sequel, Escape from L. A. is the huge, shonky blemish on the magnificent history of John Carpenter and Kurt Russell.

Coming from a novice director, the film is not as impressive as "Sense And Sensibility", but as a light-hearted and energetic comedy of who-loves-who? and small upsets, this works well - and it boasts Paltrow's star-making turn.

Matilda is a blackly comic, delightfully off-the-wall picture that both kids and adults will lap up.

Violent and sometimes shocking, this is nevertheless superbly acted, brilliantly shot piece.

Schumacher is never quite smart enough to keep the debate neutral, and the unrestrained hero worship at the close leaves a nasty taste.

Huge ghostly fun, and a fine achievement from the early days of CGI.

Only once dipping into huggy sentimentality, we are happily spared the run-of-the-mill best mates saga the premise threatens. Instead this is a deeper and wonderfully engrossing picture with characters easy to sympathise with

Both assuredly funny without being forced, and smart without being smug, this is one comedy that deserves to go forth and, indeed, multiply.

Like 2001, Star Wars and Jurassic Park, it ups the special effects stakes and gets closer to putting on screen the images you've had in your mind while reading epic sci-fi.

Occasionally irritating farce but inventive and boasting an endearing as well as laugh-out-loud performance from Murphy in and out of fat suit.

Fans of the book will be pleased that most of its highlights remain intact - including Dilbeck covering himself with Vaseline - but overall this is at best patchy, and, more damagingly, not funny.

Even one-scene characters are unforgettable, but Sayles really gets under the skin of his struggling-to-be-heroic leads, Sam and Pilar. Long after this summer's crop of action flicks is gone, you'll watch this for the third or fourth time and see fresh material. Outstanding.

A solid, enjoyable, beautifully animated Disney movie, but one not quite out of the top drawer.

Bertolucci fans of old may well sigh for the political passion that made his earlier work more powerful. But the grace, craft and real wit in this country house party make it his most seductive film in a very long while.

The mix of light comedy and really quite dark themes proved too much for many viewers, but this is worth a look for Broderick's performance and Carrey's obsessive touches.

Despite the pleasant feel and fun performance from Zane there's something missing from this superhero adventure.

No masterpiece, but a decent rental prospect. Twohy works the Sci-fi genre well yet again.

Sporadically funny, but never more than a sting of crude gags.

Enormous fun.

Even by the less-than-stressful standards of filmmaking for kids, this is disappointingly by-the-numbers effort.