The greatest flaw in My Father the Hero isn't the feeble laugh-to-running length ratio, the limp characterization, or the mediocre acting. Instead, it's the feeling of unease that pervades the first forty-five minutes as Nicole and Andre clash while the film tries unsuccessfully to make light of their dysfunctional relationship. There are serious issues bubbling away here that the movie doesn't know how to address properly. Lighthearted motion pictures should never cause discomfort, but this one does.

Without Lena Olin's performance, Romeo is Bleeding could have been an ordinary, or even sub-par, film noir. However, with a villainess as fun as Mona Demarkov, it's impossible not to find some enjoyment amidst Gary Oldman's dreadful seriousness and all the bloody corpses. There are some plot twists, and a few unexpected happenings, but in the end, it's Olin's character that keeps the audience in their seats.

The Scent of Green Papaya is made all the more enchanting by its simplicity.

Iron Will's presentation of family values and reliance upon formulas are distinctive. The film has enough action to keep it from becoming boring, but there are too many flaws for this to be considered anything more grand than adequate entertainment.

Chris Elliott is appallingly bad as the title character. Although his role cries out for an over-the- top performance, Elliott's grating personae cancels out any positive contributions he can offer in that area.

Whether your political persuasion is Democratic, Republican, or somewhere in between, The War Room offers a fascinating insider's look at the turbulent 1992 Presidential campaign. Anyone with any interest in politics or elections will be engrossed, so it's a pleasure to note that the directors plan a followup in 1996.

Jim Sheridan skillfully interweaves a myriad of subplots and themes into a fast-paced, cohesive whole.

At least there are some decent special effects to distract the viewer's attention from the story, right? Wrong. The visual effects aren't much better than those found in any typical video game system. They're repetitive and unimaginative.

Grumpy Old Men works more often than not. It's an example of a frothy, good-natured holiday picture that adults can relax and enjoy. As a comedy, the movie contains enough fresh humor to keep the laughs coming.

The story is timely and powerful, and the performances of Hanks and Washington assure that the characters will not immediately vanish into obscurity.

Unlike its predecessor, this is not a light, mystical romance, but a somewhat muddled narrative that ends up resembling an offbeat action/adventure movie. It's still a film about issues -- humanity, the soul, time, and Nazism -- but it lacks many of the "art" aspect of Wings, relying more on straightforward storytelling.

The final result is an unnecessarily-long thriller that contains far more talking than action. Pakula's direction is lackluster, showing little of the style that permeated his two most impressive pictures, "All the President's Men" and "Presumed Innocent".

Because this film touches us so deeply, the catharsis has a power that few -- if any -- other moments in film history can match. And that's what establishes this as a transcendent motion picture experience.

Those in search of escapism should not look to this motion picture, but anyone willing to assume the risk of facing the ugliness of Johnny's world will find a startling, gut-wrenching, eye-opening experience.

Those who like stale, formula-driven comedies with sickeningly-sweet happy endings, not to mention unbelievably-contrived plots, will find Sister Act 2 an example of good entertainment.

For the most part, its characterizations are so weak and ambivalent that the audience finds it difficult to develop much sympathy for anyone, regardless of whether they're white or Native American.

It's refreshing to see an old subject dealt with in the open and original manner that The Snapper handles pregnancy. The marriage of humor and drama is admittedly imperfect, but it works well enough to occasionally spawn laughter and touch the heart.

This is a movie to be savored by those who are familiar with the work of Glenn Gould, and an opportunity for those who aren't to explore the essence of a rare musical genius. It's an eclectic film, and an astonishing portrait.

Strictly speaking, it's not a top example of movie making, but it offers two hours of undeniably solid entertainment, and not too many viewers can argue with that.

Carlito's Way probably should have been a taut thriller, but choices by DePalma in both presentation and editing have hamstrung it.

Those who have seen Richard Lester's '70s tongue-in-cheek version of the adventure should avoid this one, lest they feel compelled to hurl popcorn and invectives at the screen.

An engaging and powerful motion picture, every bit the equal of Merchant Ivory's best work, and certainly the most emotionally-wrenching tale they have brought to the screen.

Even Charles Barkley's big-screen acting debut can't camouflage a wandering script built on formulas and cliches. As for John Travolta and Kirstie Alley, suffice it to say that their pets steal every scene, and, when the dogs aren't present, the furniture takes the honor. Look Who's Talking Now has about as much appeal as the pile that Rocks leaves on the back seat of James' cab.

Male coming-of-age stories are a dime-a-dozen, but the same cannot be said for the female equivalent, especially when the story is told with intelligence and sensitivity. This makes Ruby in Paradise a rare and welcome change of pace.

Flesh and Bone is all suspenseful buildup without shoot-outs, chases, and explosions, and its conclusion doesn't demand a neatly-packaged resolution. More importantly, it's one of the few successful '40s-type noir thrillers to grace the big screen in recent years.

Kalifornia is disturbing, and, while it doesn't overdo the blood, neither is the violence understated.

A solid motion picture with a universal message and occasional splashes of genius, but it is remarkable only as Holly Hunter's performance is concerned.

If I see another send-up of Sharon Stone's character in Basic Instinct, I think I'll walk out of the theater. It wasn't funny the first time, and, by now, it's gotten downright annoying. Who cares if she uncrossed her legs without any panties on? Let's move onto something new. Belaboring that issue is like watching this movie: pointless.