Whatever his intentions, the finished product is about as deep and meaningful as you’d expect from a work starring the Man Who Is Clark Griswold. Which is a good thing really, as, uncomplicated, genuinely funny comedy players are thin on the ground at the moment, and it means Memoirs can carry off the semi-slapstick, borderline-cretinous gags with pace and panache.

However, thanks to engaging performances and a sharp script, this movie - essentially a series of three-minute sketches filling 101 minutes could be just the right choice for that Saturday night date, while Wayne-speak will no doubt be quoted and become part of the English language.

Despite an above average cast and interesting use of the Catholic angle, this film just isn't quite scary enough for hardcore horror fans.

Entertaining in places, Medicine Man suffers from a predictable story and annoying supporting characters.

That most essential element in a thriller, the suspense, collapses mid-film, making it hard to care about the eventual denouement.

Nair has made a truthful film about race which avoids hatred. It leaves a joyously hopeful taste.

The tale from the past is very nostalgic, heartwarming and mouth-watering and all, as Idgie and Ruth cook up a storm, are kindly to their black domestics and stand up to piggy men while events fitfully progress to a courtroom climax. And Masterson is a peach. But the best bits belong to Bates as her dreary Evelyn raises her consciousness, lowers her weight and starts speaking her mind. It's a nice, pleasant celebration of friendship, but without much meat to chew on.

In some quarters this will doubtless be hailed as "gritty" and "realistic". Movies about junkies just aren't much fun, however, and to be really powerful or tragic they need to be a lot less hack­neyed and directed with more inspira­tion than this.

Indeed, the only bright spot in the film is Amanda Plummer — the wacky object of Robin Williams' desire in The Fisher King — with a brief but memorable cameo here as a futuristic nun who swears like a trooper, carries around a rifle and thinks turning the other cheek is kicking a guy in the balls.

A unexpected pleasure to watch, disturbing for new parents, slightly silly but ever so enjoyable.

This doesn't have the high style that made Taxi Driver or American Gigolo instant cultural icons - although Schrader shows more than a few traces of Scorsese as his camera creeps- perhaps because it's concerned with a chilly 90s that looks back with a sort of nostalgia on the cocaine-fuelled craziness of earlier years. But it does develop powerfully the themes of Schrader's earlier work and will not disappoint his fans.

It's solid Miyazaki, although he has reached greater heights both before and since.

Cronenberg's attempt to meld his style with an established writer didnít exactly pan out.

Graced with fine performances and commendably biting off more than it can ever hope to chew, The Prince Of Tides is a rare slice of romantic moviemaking for all those grown-ups feeling ignored since Kramer Vs. Kramer last rattled their value systems. Best to take along your mother, a large box of hankies, and a hefty dose of salt.

We get a mother-daughter murder melodrama even more farfetched than the Joan Crawford classic, Mildred Pierce, on which this would appear to be loosely based.

The film does work, but not quite as well as the Hepburn-Tracy classic that it seeks to replace. Mildly amusing.

Truth or not, this is an exceptional piece of cinema, deeply provoking and audacious.

If you can overlook the smarm and the historical airbrushing there's much to enjoy here.

This is a movie for the boys who like watching men being real men - cursing, shooting and fighting - and anyone who likes this kind of wham-bam entertainment will certainly get more than their money's worth.

Jarmusch leaves us with a highly entertaining and thoroughly oddball collage celebrating the typically inconsequential nature of most daily encounters.

How did such a dream project on paper turn out so wrong. It should remain one of the great mysteries of cinema. The less said about this one, the better. For Spielberg completists only.

Despite being an entirely formulaic heartstring-tugger with some finger-gag­ging moments, the performances are appealing, particularly the endearing Chlumsky.

Although not all the loose ends are tied up in the telling of this bizarre and absorbing tale of love, grief and goose-bumps, one scarcely minds at all, since the fourth-dimensional doings on offer, (underlined with a marvellously moody, haunting score by Zbigniew Preisner) are like an erotic trip into The Twilight Zone.

With its strong characters and lively storytelling, animated or not, this deserves its place alongside the cinema greats.

Deliciously sick and delightfully cast.

No plot, no real story, no point really.

This movie-movie gem scores on levels few horror films ever have. Not just a disturbing ride but also a hard-hitting political statement.

Leigh has the skill to inspire with the everyday.