Long stretches of Mike Figgis' film are jaw-droppingly pretentious or painfully dull... Nevertheless, there are clever, funny, erotic and visually beautiful moments scattered throughout the film.

There's also enough laconic humor, warming camaraderie and hopeful stabs at dignity to keep the story from assuming the glum gunmetal gray of its setting on the coast of northwestern Spain.

Combined with the eyestrain produced by the cheap cardboard 3-D glasses, the resulting vertigo is decidedly unpleasant -- although having moon rocks and blobs of cream pie flying out from the screen is kinda cool in a retro way.

Its faults -- banal dialogue, ludicrous and uninspired plotting, dull but vicious fight scenes -- make you realize just how much the summer action movie has declined in the last few years.

A thrilling, beautifully crafted, fact-based horse story that's not merely the summer's finest movie, but may well be the one to catch come Academy Awards time.

Roth goes to town with this juicy part, and seems to enjoy herself immensely in this merry farce, which runs out of gas toward the end due to an over-complicated plot.

A summery confection crammed with fresh young talented faces that's hard not to love.

An incomprehensible Bob Dylan vanity project that is not only nearly impossible to sit through, but embarrasses a long list of stars who lined up to work for scale opposite the legendary musician.

Well-done documentary.

Part urban thriller, part unorthodox love story, this well-acted portrayal of the shadowy realm occupied by London's illegal immigrants is buoyed by stinging social commentary and a surprising twist of intelligent humor.

Garage Days is fun, but it would have been even more entertaining if Proyas had taken an unplugged approach.

Under Jordan Susman's inept direction, these twentysomething airheads, angry about the proliferation of Starbucks outlets and other societal ills, all resemble nubile models.

Director and co-writer Matteo Garrone infuses The Embalmer with a spooky eroticism. The film is dark, both in theme and visual composition.

The sad truth is that TV series like "Dawson's Creek" do a better job with precocious teen dialogue.

It's basically the longest (a butt-numbing 21/2 hours), the most expensive (a reportedly obscene $150 million), most vulgar and by far the stupidest episode of "Miami Vice" ever.

It's not surprising that This Thing of Ours -- the title refers to the literal translation of La Cosa Nostra -- rings with authenticity and solid acting.

The screen comes alive only at the end, when a frightening tornado destroys the seaside village.

It's a chaste "Austin Powers," a less ridiculous "Casino Royale," a more subtle "Spy Hard" — in other words, yet another James Bond parody.

There are more misses than hits among the myriad plot strands that make up the sweaty Spanish sex comedy KM.0.

The two male actors are very good, but Juuso is particularly amusing and touching as the earthy heroine.

The film's violent finale comes out of nowhere and will leave bewildered viewers wondering if they might have dozed off for a reel or two.

Makes its biggest misstep in failing to persuade the viewer the five family members are charming eccentrics rather than irritating weirdos.

Unfathomable balderdash.

The film is extremely well-acted, and Berri is very good at demonstrating why the relationship is doomed.

Strictly a love it-or-hate-it proposition, it requires viewers to work at a movie with a narrative that could support at least half a dozen interpretations.

Trimming half an hour from this bloated, 143-minute blockbuster would have highlighted the film's treasures, not the least of which is Johnny Depp's endearingly eccentric performance as Captain Jack Sparrow.

One of those films that takes up a potentially fascinating subject only to fumble it.

A blood- freezing German thriller, a very stylish variation on "The Silence of the Lambs" and "Seven."

The only feeling the character seems capable of is lust -- and when he hits on the male nurse looking after his newborn baby in the hospital, this hollow, unfunny "comedy" moves from merely tedious to nasty.

Daring and unique, La Commune makes perfect viewing for the Fourth of July, which commemorates America's own revolution.

Take "Thelma & Louise," throw in hot girl-girl sex and you have Gasoline, a flammable import from Italy directed by Monica Stambrini.

It makes not just the "Thief of Baghdad" and the junky Ray Harryhausen movies of the '60s and '70s but even Disney's recent "Aladdin" seem positively multicultural by comparison.

Along with co-writer Emmanuele Bernhein, Ozon...has crafted a contemplative blend of fantasy and reality that illuminates the mysteries of the creative process.

It's so gosh-darned darling it almost turns your stomach.

Pointless and mind-numbing.

If you give yourself over to it, this romantic tale of a liberating one-night stand proves oddly seductive and generates a warm afterglow.

It's really just about a bunch of pathetic losers whiling away the hours with their hands jammed down their pants.

In place of elaborate sets, clever filmmaking gives the impression of a central London emptied of people and cars, to eerie effect - and this opening reel is nothing short of magnificent.

Proudly airheaded, incoherent, endlessly pandering - yet fitfully entertaining.

In an attempt to understand this phenomenon, Ziv interviews leaders of terrorist groups like Hamas, failed hit men now in jail and relatives of those who died carrying out these attacks. The effect is frightening.

Gripping and thoughtful.

Arguably the most insipid movie released so far this century.

From the incessant rain that blurs the joyless Boston setting to the mysterious decision to make a brunette Hudson look as plain as possible, it's an evanescent fancy devoid of sparkle.

Manages to build interest as it goes along, leading to a spectacular climactic battle with all those elephants.

This messy, disappointing, self-important and utterly humorless version of the Marvel comic book character may be the toughest flick with a green protagonist to sit through since "The Grinch."

There's style and panache to spare. Mournful jazz adds to the mood.

A harmless celebration of idiocy that is the cinematic equivalent of an overeager, block-headed puppy chasing its tail.

Some of the plot points are confusingly vague, the tone lurches wildly between genres, and the film's epilogue pushes the bounds of believability - but The Hard Word could never be accused of being predictable.

Harmless, if slightly hyperactive, fun.

There's little action in this snail-paced bore, you'll need a high-powered magnifying glass to spot the comedy and the "buddies" have about as much chemistry as a pair of wet socks.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. That about sums up the amazing story of Edith Hahn Beer, an Austrian Jew who survived the Holocaust by passing herself off as Aryan.

Wait for the video, then fast-forward through every scene except the ones featuring Maria Mironova as a cheating wife.

Dull and creaky soap opera.

A leisurely, scene-setting start, peppered with authentic banter and winning localized humor, fleshes out the characters in Manito so well you feel as if you live alongside them.

An alarmingly unfunny French comedy where the two main characters are constantly yakking on a cell phone at an airport.

A toothless, dated Seventh Avenue satire with shaky script, direction and acting - is the movie equivalent of something you'd find on the deep-markdown rack at Daffy's.

Wildly uneven romantic drama.

Its "I see dead people" premise is shopworn, but Hong Kong brothers Oxide and Danny Pang manage to deliver real skin-prickling jolts with their minimalist horror film.

A lark for anyone who's willing to check their brains at the concession stand for 100 minutes.

An excellent way to teach children that movies don't begin and end with Hollywood blockbusters.

Filmmakers Sam Green and Bill Siegel tend to shy from tough questions, allowing their subjects to wax nostalgic about bomb-throwing as yet another youthful folly of the '70s. That's tougher to swallow than some boomers' claims they didn't inhale.

Plays like a bad daytime soap opera. The acting is amateurish. Ditto the uninspired script (continuity? what's that?) and direction.

The leaden pacing, somnambulant performances and incessant symbolism in nearly every shot will soon have you thinking that The Three Marias is three too many.

Low-end schlock that will likely land with a dull thud in the video remainder bin before the frost is on the pumpkin.

An unforgettable and complex portrait of a nuclear family in meltdown.

Watching The Italian Job in a theater makes you long for a fast-forward button - to skip past 90 eyeball-glazing minutes of generic caper plotting and cut to the chase, as it were.

Summer hasn't even started, but you won't likely find a better catch this season than Finding Nemo, a dazzling, computer-animated fish tale with a funny, touching script and wonderful voice performances that make it an unqualified treat for all ages.

The result is as enlightening for viewers as the journey was for Harris.

What's cutting- edge comedy for one generation can become generic filler for the next - that's the lesson to be learned from The In-Laws, a strenuous attempt to recycle a vastly funnier minor classic.

The actors don't seem to have been directed at all, and the movie is very sluggishly paced.

Has a sexy cast and is gorgeous to watch -- but it takes more than that to make a movie worth seeking out.

It's hard to go wrong with documentary subjects as articulate and intriguing as childhood friends John Flansburgh and John Linnell.

One of Miike's most violent and sadistic movies, filled with squirting blood, throat-slashing, limb-hacking and other forms of mutilation too gruesome to describe here.

An exploration of the way the sins of the father trickle down to his offspring, is dense with quirky characters and subplots all woven into a rather heavy-handed meditation on the evils of globalization.

Not for all tastes, but it demonstrates Loach's skill as a poet of gritty semi-documentary filmmaking.

It would be easy to mock or patronize them. Cinemania does neither. They seem quite satisfied with their lives, which is more than can be said for a lot of people with more conventional lifestyles.

Crudely animated, badly dubbed, incomprehensible, boring -- and headache-inducing -- attempt to wring a few more yen and dollars out of a thoroughly spent franchise.

It's a touching story that deserves to be told. Unfortunately, Slesin's presentation is conventional and uninspired (lots of boring talking heads). These heroes deserve better.

At times, writer-director Cedric Klapsich seems to be trying to copy the frestyle of "Amelie," but L'Auberge achieves only a fraction of its charm.

The dazzling 14-minute chase includes cars, motorcycles, a couple of 18-wheelers - and nonstop martial-arts battles and leaps inside and on top of the vehicles. That scene alone will justify the price of admission for many.

It's a highly erotic work that at no point seems staged. Credit brilliant use of fog, mirrors, silhouettes, slow motion and special effects worthy of a music video.

The plot of Attitude isn't exactly original and won't have you sitting on the edge of your seat. But Nilsson knows how to create a noirish mood, and some of the camera work is interesting, if pretentious.

Only really little tykes will find the surplus of pratfalls and poo and fart jokes a hoot.

Despite an empowered female protagonist, manages in its own way to be as misogynous as "In the Company of Men."

De Villa has created a truthful representation of a colorful community.

Captures some remarkably vivid present-day performances by the aging performers.

The problem lies with the paucity of sizzle between the romantic leads, Renée Zellweger and Ewan McGregor. They just don't look like they're having any fun together, particularly the bony Zellweger, who has trouble filling out the wow-worthy ensembles and perpetually looks like she's sucking on a lemon.

Much of the action is strident and cartoonish -- but the romance at the core remains tender and true.

A thinking man's buddy movie.

It's a hushed work of restrained emotions, elliptical storytelling and spare dialogue, peopled with smart, authentic characters who have drawn you into their lives before you know it.

It's mostly a political thriller, contingent on a love story. It's kind of noirish, subtly humorous and intermittently confusing.

The tiny stage can barely contain Reno's gale-force personality, as she paces and rants a stream-of-conscious monologue.

Hurt, who starred in Kwietniowski's earlier study in compulsion, "Life and Death on Long Island," is oily perfection as the devious Victor.

Toothless, unbelievable and not particularly funny, New Suit is no threat to "The Player," "Swimming With Sharks" or "The Big Picture," to name but three more interesting pictures in this inside-baseball genre.

As irresistible as movie-theater popcorn - a lavish, reasonably intelligent, well-acted sequel with kick-butt effects that outdoes its predecessor, 2000's "X-Men," in almost every department.

Lizzie McGuire's "Movie" doesn't try to be anything more than a superficial escapist fantasy for fans of the show.

Settles into an unflinchingly honest coming-of-age portrait.

Many of the kids seem to be social outcasts of one kind or another, but Spellbound, which will show on cable later this year, doesn't dig deep enough to disturb the movie's relentless feel-good tone.