A very competent film, but it barely pulls you in.

Morris seduces us into stepping into Leuchter's world of delusion and ego.

This is still Ron Shelton in good -- not great, but good -- form here, and the rewards are plentiful.

An often gorgeous, dizzying assault of ideas and visual flourishes...it's just not very good.

For fans of science fiction...Galaxy Quest is a sweet, funny valentine to their obsessiveness.

A dark film that raises more questions than it answers -- and it's meant to.

The kind of minor work that may very well speak greater volumes about (Stone's) thoughts and feelings right now than another masterpiece would.

Never more than a dull, paint-by-numbers, overly literal transcription of the book.

Regretfully, the beginning of this movie is as good as it ever gets.

You just watch one carefully constructed but emotionally vacant image piled up on another - sometimes with regard to an overall effect, but often just for the sake of style over substance.

An excellent coming-of-age story that is, for once, and very happily, focussed on a teenage girl.

Leigh and his solid cast make sure that inside jokes translate to a broad audience, and that their rendering of the back-stage drama is smart, engrossing and often very funny.

It is Foster who presents the biggest single problem, delivering a monochromatic performance that finds her character not much more than flinty and strained.

A deliciously romantic story, in all senses of the word.

The single best thing about Stuart Little is Nathan Lane.

Tired, overcomplicated mix of macho bullshit.

Captivating an audience from the get-go and drawing our attention and emotions ever deeper into the layered mysteries of a dreamy fable.

It's epic in every sense of the word, and like most of Chen's historical dramas, not easy to follow.

What leaves you breathless, though, is the knockout acting by the cast.

Its grimness is so unrelenting that I can only recommend it to filmgoers who need a movie to tell them that incest is bad.

Part of the appeal of John Irving's writing is its sense of bounty, the way the world is offered up as a horn of plenty. The Cider House Rules movie, by contrast, feels narrowed down to small slices of experience.

Thoroughly artificial and overly schematic, to the point of caricature even, but often lively and witty nonetheless.

There's nothing here but a messy lump of coal.

While writer-director Frank Darabont often fails to make King's story plausible, that's no fault of the actors. The performances are the movie's strong suit.

Rob Schneider's stab at an "Ace Ventura"-like gamble for stardom.

Using current hand-held camera technology to ape the political and esthetic sensibility of the 1960s.

It certainly has a place among the year's more accomplished productions.

It is -- in mood, execution, and shameless sentimentality -- a Bette Midler movie with an Irish accent.