A beautifully told story of a child's innocence and faith, filmed with exquisite detail and stunning cinematography

Comic electricity.

Final destination? Video store bins.

It's a gorgeous bad movie, the folly of a great visual stylist.

As long as Polanski keeps his focus on character and ambiance, the film is an eerie pleasure. But he doesn't, and it degenerates into a second-rate chase movie which takes its supernatural overtones either too seriously or too lightly to be convincing.

The combination of Shandling's button-down TV sensibility and Nichols's good taste produces a film whose tone is out of sync with the simple, ribald conceit and is only mildly amusing at best.

As dumb as the film is, the actors escape relatively unscathed.

Screenwriter Ropelewski piles one silly plot contrivance upon another, and the characters start behaving like nitwits.

[Douglas] is a superb (and underused) comic actor, one who knows that the secret of being funny is never begging for a laugh.

The foreboding, dark camera-work is effective in setting the mood for this sinister, eye- popping, frequently ridiculous thriller.

Gorgeous, mesmerizing, and stunningly well acted.

Like people who compulsively giggle whenever they tell you bad news, the movie runs for cover in lame, comic shtick.

Tries too hard to prove it has a "heart" when the whole point is that its subjects do not.

Gorgeous but curiously weightless.

Enough already with the faux documentary!

Midler's performance does not stand out. She remains very much Bette Midler.

Hilariously incompetent.

A disaster: dull, predictable, at times cringe-worthy.

The flick's ultimate flaw? For a movie about space travel, it's an awfully uninspired trek.

The dedication of the Canadian team strains belief at times, and for good reason.

At the heart of all Morris's films -- from "The Thin Blue Line" to "Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control" -- is a fundamental belief in the unreliability of truth.

A half-hearted comedy whose jokes are far from a knockout.

Damon's Ripley is considerably different from the charming sociopath in Patricia Highsmith's novel or the smooth lothario played by Alain Delon in the 1960 French thriller "Purple Noon."

Stone creates such a sizzling, raunchy, vital world that the cliches almost seem new.

As well-crafted and sensitive as it is, the movie remains one step removed from inspiration.

Forman's decision to stick to the surface is probably, in the end, a wise one. Kaufman always wanted to keep us guessing, and this movie respects his wishes.

All shots and no scenes, which is nice for a picture book but deadly for drama.

Barring one dreadfully trumped-up climactic scene, they've managed to avoid the usual asylum-movie cliches.