Because there was anarchy and randomness in Thompson's life and work, you find it in Gonzo.

This is one of Downey's most enjoyable performances, and one of Kilmer's funniest. It's a relationship comedy wrapped in sharp talk and gunplay, a triumphant comeback for Black, and one of the year's best movies.

Crossing Delancey is the most delightful falling-in-love story since ``Moonstruck,'' which it faintly resembles. [30 Sep 1988, p.F13]

Offers a lot of laughs, a heartwarming core.

Malick is a unique director of extraordinary gifts, of that there can be no doubt. If he ever chooses to shoot a script as fine as his technique, he will surely produce a masterpiece of the medium.

It's not great moviemaking -- it isn't as accomplished or funny as the best of the Farrelly brothers' films, say -- but it's got real appeal.

If there is a drive-in classic, this is it. [04 Jun 1999]

In a film culture in which contrived tomfoolery and overinflated emotions stifle in their effort to provide comedy and romance, something as light and precise as The Puffy Chair feels like more than an exception; it feels like fresh air.

Racy, obscene, spirited and infectious.

The issues the film raises are truly profound and discomfiting whether you work in the media or just consume it.

It's a film that can leave you on the fence. There's great facility with non-pro actors, with unusual locations, with both intimate and epic-scale scenes. Yet at the same time, Takata's reserve overwhelms the picture and makes its efforts to elicit emotions seem clumsy.

Alas, Robbins is far more interesting than Cruise, and you wonder what the film would have been like if their roles were reversed -- if Robbins were the loser in search of redemption and Cruise the agitated freak in the basement.

The film's best sequences -- the troubles of the young woman -- are gems adrift in a sea of Jell-O.

Oacks more heat, acid, danger and drama into its brief running time than most films of nearly double the length.

As a fable, The City of Lost Children may not have a resonantly significant moral, but as a film, it is without a doubt the most incredible thing that the cinema has brought us this year. [22 Dec 1995]

It may not add up to a narrative, but it's a fascinating compilation -- a mixtape you may want to hear more than once.

Amalric plays up the ambiguity and brings it all home in a tight 75 minutes, a time that would have impressed Simenon, who wrote and revised novels in less than two weeks.

It's a dark, brooding, moody film that follows a grim narrative to a logical inevitability and is nonetheless fully infused with a spirit of humanity.

It's the sort of history you could nibble on for hours.

There's much to admire here, but less to like.

It's a fine debut, far more grounded, plausible and engrossing than most Hollywood thrillers.

Magic Mike doesn't sizzle often enough as either cinema or beefcake, though. It's medium-strength Soderbergh, which is better than the full-strength stuff most filmmakers can manage but not exactly the brand that keeps you coming back for more.

It's overlong and sanitized but succeeds in presenting an important part of contemporary American culture to a mainstream audience.

So rich, moving and surprising that a familiar story starts to feel new again. The details, the personalities and the final twist grab you until you're left truly shaken and inspired.

It's a film full of clever moments that may at first seem cheeky but come to feel inspired, with a third act (which only a churl would describe) that rises to a dizzyingly heightened level of metaphysics and mayhem.

It's not orthodox Dahl but it's pure Burton, and, as it's been such a very long time since moviegoers have been afforded that particular treat, it's entirely welcome.

A sweet and wise little film.

Once you lose yourself in Ruiz's stunning achievement -- a wonderfully acted, beautifully realized vision of Proust -- you'll be enchanted.