Beyond the lipstick-lesbian twist, this is a formula flick, but the acting is excellent. It also has genuine laughs.

An old-fashioned story of courage and self-sacrifice in the face of war and deprivation. It's also sappy, boring and obvious.

That strong presence in the center almost makes Lola Versus watchable even as it starts to get formulaic, preachy and tiresome.

While they've managed to make a funny movie, they haven't made a great comedy.

Before dismissing Zhou Yu's Train as the over-conceived, over-edited, under-written perfume ad that it is, the following must be said: It's great to see Gong Li onscreen again.

The movie looks great, with soft-focus shots of perfectly tailored outfits masking the ugliness within.

Eventually, the inconsistency wears, and the film provokes mostly indifference and restlessness.

It's a brisk, though laugh-imbalanced, B-comedy with a hard R.

Just pass on K-PAX.

The trouble is that it's so lead-footed and delighted with itself even as bit after bit sinks like a lead weight.

But with a potentially fascinating study of ethics, of how cheating rich boys become cheating rich men while humble souls do more good in the world, The Emperor's Club doesn't take the audience anywhere smart.

Balancing homage with creativity, the picture is tight, stylishly filmed, clever and, importantly, scary.

It's a terrible picture: ugly and illogical and clumsily staged and peppered with crude, witless humor.

Improves on the original in at least one key way: Its lead characters appear to have souls.

One of the funniest things in Scary Movie 3 is Pamela Anderson. She makes us laugh. And not just at her (though she's game to poke fun at her image) but with her.

The actors are mostly charming; Bettany in particular is broody and cool.

Between the tart dialogue, the compelling lead performances, the vivid violence and the stunning cinematography, it's complete and satisfying all on its own.

Has two other notable things going for it: the brilliant Christopher Walken and a soundtrack packed with songs by the drippy power ballad band Bad Company.

The weirdly earnest literalism of Besson's story is a weak point. His desire to make Angela satisfy both sides of the Madonna-whore complex is too blatant.

The humor tends toward the mildly crass -- bare buttocks and inappropriate scratching are Schwimmer's go-to comedy staples -- and the story is ridiculous. But Pegg, who co-wrote the script, plays to his strengths. You can't help but root for the loser.

The film is a pleasure that doesn't rank with Allen's best but satisfies far more than most American comedies.

Thornton restrains himself (especially compared to Downey and Duvall) until his cross-examination of Duvall, when he throws off that "Fargo" menacing restraint and throws it down. You go, Billy Bob!

The great physical production of the film may engage some viewers who don't care that the apocalyptic foreground of the novel serves as part of an interesting backdrop for a melodrama. Those who enjoyed the novel should find the film's last five minutes positively nauseating. [9 Nov 1987, p.B09]

A Lot Like Love is, well, a lot like many other movies. It's also a lot like having your eyeballs seared by a propane flame -- in a bad way.

An impressive array of themes, stories and sequences.

A flimsy film that's too clean and corn pone to be anything near rock 'n' roll.

An old-fashioned romantic adventure film strongly acted, ably directed and written with stolid sobriety, the film feels, save for a few moments of verbal or physical intensity, as if it could have been made 60 years ago with Ingrid Bergman in the lead.

You may strain to recall just what happened an hour after you see it, but there are so many worse things to have to remember in life. It's a relief to focus on something so attractively amusing.