While the specifics of the plot are often as fragile as an actual glass house, those looking for a good night of disposable entertainment will find it here.

Marsh's flat-footed recitation of Believe It or Not crimes grows tedious, and his condescension to present-day citizens of the town (implying they're as grotesque and doomed as ever) rings false.

After a few very funny early sequences, tricked up with grotesque, surreal editing and camerawork, the movie gets bogged down a bit during the first third.

These pandas, they're truly wondrous on the big screen, as no digital effect could ever recreate. Director Robert M. Young delivers a spry, richly detailed adventure for general audiences, truly a feat deserving acclaim.

Despite the generally likable characters and the abundance of clever ideas, Lustig mucks it all up with her "trick" editing.

Hardball is not as bad as it sounds, and at its best it's charming.

Stylish, but definitely not for the squeamish

Too bad very few of these high jinks are actually funny -- the outtakes at the end of the film suggest a more relaxed ensemble vibe that the film proper was unable to retain.

Moves in fits and starts, with some crafty and credible fight choreography by Xin Xin Xiong on either side of the pretty but boring middle hour.

One of the most genuinely shocking films you'll ever see.

Where The Iron Ladies makes its mark, and holds our interest, is in the way it integrates old-fashioned "low" comedy with social observation.

The two lead performances are so good it contains more emotional depth than it probably has a right to.

The film was cut down from an R rating to get a PG-13, but even if it had full-on Eliza Dushku nudity -- and it doesn't have anything close -- Soul Survivors would still suck.

Rock Star takes itself so seriously it becomes full-on parody -- "This Is Spinal Tap" as a sanctimonious cautionary tale. And how rock 'n' roll is that?

There's just no arguing with 12 centuries of flamenco, and, in this sensuous movie, no resisting it.

Despite a little rough stuff here and there, this is one of the more insightful and affecting teen-trauma films of recent years.

The fleeting moments of dry wit are too sparse to hold the movie together, so instead McAbee takes the kitchen-sink approach, hitting us with whatever he's got.

The film generally looks like a TV special, with low production values and lots of closeups.

This tripe, however, isn't worth your time or our ink.

The film belongs to Jordan Brower, whose every appearance breaks one's heart, and makes some otherwise familiar material come alive.

It's moving; but it's also endlessly engaging, uproariously funny at moments, informative, and eventually touching in ways one might not have expected.

The real star of the film is the food, which is sliced, diced, shredded, rolled, sautéed and fricasseed to mouthwatering perfection.

On one level, Together is a countercultural soap opera, though played more as bittersweet comedy than as drama.

Rife with silliness, such as the flashbacks within flashbacks of characters who were not with one another at the time, and occasional unintentional laughs -- but it's also a good, raucous kick in the behind, which is literally all it aspires to be

Maybe Baby is Elton's stab at romantic comedy, and it's a strong feature debut, spiffy, quick-witted and more than a little shocking in its unflinching acknowledgement of English people having sex.

Who wants to pay to see a movie so bad the actors and writer-director feel the need to keep reminding us of how bad it is?

Given how uninvolving Summer Catch is, the truly remarkable pitching here was not so much on the mound as in the executive office where someone convinced Warner Bros. to green-light this turkey, which should have been called Good Will Hitting.

Nearly every attempt at humor in this witless, completely reprehensible "movie" is mean-spirited and stupidly conceived at the expense of some group that deserves better.

A thoroughly likable, if familiar, Woody Allen comedy -- not the most original or revealing tintype in the director's gallery, perhaps, but blessedly free of the self-conscious hand-wringing and tortured navel-gazing that impede the former Mr. Konigsberg's more sluggish efforts.

The film feels like what it is: an improvised comedy bit that two friends came up with.

Paul Cox's admirers are sure to embrace this latest eruption of sincerity and sensitivity.

It feels like a pilot episode for the most expensive made-for-cable cartoon ever produced, and if you expect quantity (or closure) for your $8 ticket, you may feel shorted. The quality, however, is unlikely to be disputed.

Headey, Skarsgård and Rampling flesh these people out marvelously, bringing them fully to life. It's almost a pity: The more real they become, the less pleasant is the time we spend with them.

The moviemakers have eliminated the finer points of the novel in favor of broad strokes. Very broad strokes.

So desperate are the filmmakers to create a "hip" western that they try to cram it with action sequences that aren't very exciting.

There's nothing more enervating than a stupid film with only random, and perhaps accidental, flashes of smarts; the rare prescient moments only serve to highlight how banal and vacant the rest of the movie is, especially when it stoops to conquer the gross-out market bled dry by the Farrelly Brothers and their myriad acolytes.

The performance itself (which aired on PBS and is available on DVD) apparently went perfectly; given the potential pitfalls that Miller documents, it's some kind of miracle.

The redeeming features of All Over the Guy are the consistently engaging performances and some genuinely funny dialogue.

Somewhere between setup and punch line, American Pie 2 starts feeling less like a sequel and more like the second episode of a TV series, a case of fine-tuning after the pilot's been picked up by the network.

That Osmosis Jones plays like a sloppy hodgepodge is no surprise: The live-action scenes were done by the Farrellys, the animation by Sito and Kroon (whose names sounds like bodily functions), and the script was penned by another first-timer, Marc Hyman. Nobody seems to be on the same page.

Distinguishes itself by its subtlety and good taste. Even if we catch a hint of gypsy music on the soundtrack -- or glimpse a disturbing American neighbor lady -- Gardos steadfastly guards us from caricature. She wants to keep it real.

Horror fans and those who just plain enjoy a well-told story should thank the cinematic gods. Session 9 is not only the scariest movie of the year, but also perhaps the most easy to believe since the first "Blair Witch."

If you like being scared, you should have fun. Bring a date to hold hands with.

An exciting, sharply realized melodramatic film noir, based on Elizabeth Sanxay Holding's novel "The Blank Wall."

A warning is virtually mandated: No one who's even the least bit squeamish should even think about seeing Audition. But, if you have a taste for the disturbing, it's a trip that will stay with you for some time.

"Center of the World" portrays a much more believable example of what happens when a computer nerd realizes that his erotic fantasies aren't the same thing as love.

Anyone who expects a little drama with their screen sex will have to go elsewhere.

Gentle and gorgeous, honoring atmosphere over attitude.

It's as light on its feet as a dead elephant. It's never clever or smart, nor is it terribly thrilling or engaging during its numerous fight sequences.

This innocuous, frothy fairy tale isn't so off-putting as you might imagine, thanks in large part to Andrews' ageless charm.

Perfectly acceptable, deliriously charming...a goofy Bmovie dolled up like a square-jawed A-list blockbuster.

Think "Basic Instinct" with brains, and you've got it.

Shot in stylish black and white, with a memorably low-key performance from Duchesne, Bob le Flambeur is definitely worth checking out on the big screen in a fresh print.

A charming little film, filled with eccentric characters and ingratiating performances.

The movie is not always satisfying as a standard thriller, nor is it always clear; but it's never dull, either, and it displays a sensibility so weird as to be its own recommendation.

Where "Twin Falls" was slow, brooding and haunting in a manner that fit the subject matter -- the imminent death of one of the principal characters -- Jackpot is just slow and uneventful, like a cross-country Greyhound bus trip that never stops.

Doesn't swing, doesn't score, can't make it to first base, never even drags its sorry ass out of the dugout.

Proves a lovely, sweet alternative for audiences fed up with the latest hell-on-wheels action thriller or the newest horror film comedy spoof.

While 101 Reykjavik has already been compared to "High Fidelity," with which it shares the notion of an emotionally immature male narrating a tale of his own failings, it's probably closer to something like "Spanking the Monkey," which took the Oedipal angle even further.

While Brother may be the perfect introduction for Kitano newcomers, longtime fans may find it superfluous and even a step down from the likes of Hana-Bi (1997) and Sonatine (1993).

Obnoxious, transparent cornball comedy.

Offers an enormous amount of pure silly fun for the entire non-nuclear family, no matter what gender they may be.

Despite the presence of several sublimely cracked actors and some of the most abrasive white-trash caricatures since "Raising Arizona," Birch totally owns this movie.

At its best, Jurassic Park III is eerily similar to some of the more recent dinosaur-themed video games on the market.

If you're a Basquiat fan, or were around in New York back then, you'll want to take a look. If not, this film has little to recommend.

Brando wanders through the movie as if he's tolerating an annoying guest, sweetly charming one minute, detached and obnoxious the next.

Picture the dopes from "Dumb and Dumber" getting mixed up in organized crime -- but without benefit of Jim Carrey's rubberized pratfalls or his go-to-hell anarchism.

The muddiness of the basic concept and the thinness of its execution eventually defeat even Witherspoon's talents.

Like the recent "Baise-moi," Bully is a whole lot of shock and titillation trying to pretend it's saying something. Unlike the French import, however, there's no awareness of its own absurdity, nor anything for the audience to care about in the slightest.

Spectacular entertainment.

If there's any justice in moviedom, this summer's feel-good hit will be an unassuming Dutch comedy called Everybody's Famous!

Will probably please hard-core action fans who have become inured to plot idiocies, but it remains a terrible waste of talent.

It's a bewildering but deeply satisfying paradox, this constant, nearly silent collision in Tran's films of the visible world and the turbulent, unseen world.

The movie is beautiful to look at (lensed by Pierre Gill) as are the girls, but it takes its clunky message so seriously that it often verges on silliness.

The acting is superb across the board, especially from Adebimpe.

At its best, Cats & Dogs plays like a live-action Tex Avery cartoon, down to the exploding ACME dog bone; it's slapstick and slapdash, full of silly and violent nonsense worth a chuckle or two as dogs slam into glass doors and cats play dead on suburban streets.

Most of it is incredibly, gleefully crude and tasteless, but it is also good-natured and harmless, and there's a pretty good chance you'll find yourself laughing.

Any cassette of "Millennium" would serve up better thrills and chills.

Easily one of the finest and most sophisticated films of the year.

The director is in fine form with The Closet, an expertly acted divertissement that may well be headed for a Yank incarnation within the next few years.

The overall film is hideously grating, thanks to an inconsistent look, animated titles all over the place, excessive explanatory commentary and abrasive R&B videos inserted throughout.

As a document of rockin, youth rebellion, the film lodges perfectly between "American Graffiti" and "Trainspotting."

There's enough substance here to make Crazy/Beautiful more than worthwhile for its target audience, and certainly more useful than the standard teen crapfests.

It's by turns poignant and cold, twisted and sweet, dreamy and drab, effortless and overwrought. In short, the movie is a stunning, ambitious mess that leaves you wondering how much better it might have been without Kubrick's specter peering over Spielberg's heavy shoulders.

Charged by Rideau's amazingly sexy performance as the most forthright gay character put on screen to date, this is a fine piece of filmmaking.

From the start, a comprehensible, if necessarily simplified, sense of an extremely complicated moment in history.

It's a feel-good movie that happens to have a lot of feel-bad in it. The gratuitous violence sucks, and the pat conclusion prompts one to shout don't believe the hope!.

It makes as good a case as any for the use of animation as a medium for serious, mature features.

The cornerstone of this fascinating film is a peculiar but absolutely solid love story. In terms of intellectual and emotional stimulation, who could ask for more?

Guaranteed to jolt viewers of a Norman Rockwell mentality well into the 21st century.

The movie may be intellectually sophomoric, dramatically adolescent and morally vacuous, but it's good fun while it lasts.

It's a modest family comedy, probably fun for kids and reasonably cute, or at least not too insufferable, for most of the grownups who will take them.

Hard to watch, harder still to ignore.

If you peel away the surface of this movie, one is left with not much at all.

All in all, this is every inch a TV movie.

A film whose surface charm never gets in the way of its profound seriousness about living life to the fullest -- especially when one knows it isn't going to be a terribly long one.

It's the most uplifting movie of a numbing year -- a feel-good film full of songs about feeling god-awful.

Combines strong feminist sensibilities with surprisingly old-fashioned melodrama.