An unblushing sex farce often so raw it might make even fairly open-minded people feel a bit uncomfortable.

The buddy comedy “Babes” offers keen insights into pregnancy, parenting and longtime friendships, although many get lost in the movie’s bodily function-joke jamboree.

If one ignores reason, High Heels hums along well enough as a crime caper.

Were “Vita” better developed and edited, one might find joy in its rejection of the patriarchy. But the female-friendly dialogue relies too heavily on exposition. Nobody asks if anyone wants a cup of tea.

It’s hard to make a two-plus-hour chase movie like this compelling, but Wright gives it a go by peppering the cast with brief appearances by characters far more interesting who help Ben along his way.

By the end, the 105-minute movie feels another third as long. You’ll probably respect the effort. But you’ll be more than happy to leave The House With a Clock in Its Walls.

Despite some feints in a soulful direction, the picture has none of the interior quality of a multifaceted war film like Terrence Malick's "The Thin Red Line." Woo is all about elegant surfaces, not inner conflicts.

By the Grace of God begins to spin its wheels, with unnecessary scenes that give color to the events, when we’re more interested in the grand movements.

It's a strain to poke fun at Dolphin Tale 2. Even more than the very solid first film, this is cynicism-free cinema; a place where snark goes to die. But while the wholesomeness, PG-rating positivity and conservation goals remain a strong selling point, the story simply isn't as good as the first one.

Business intrudes on art.

The characters are engaging, and writer-director Stella Meghie is able to keep us interested in them for about an hour — and then the drama leaks out of the movie completely.

With Reichardt, you really do feel like you’re actually there. The only problem is that, a lot of the time, you’re really not happy to be there.

More thoughtful and pleasing to the eye than any blockbuster in recent memory, but its epic length comes without an epic reward. It's a slow ride to the same old place, nonstop action, accelerating in scale, culminating in the smirking promise of a sequel.

This is a monster movie -- 92 minutes, lots of action, lots of green legs stomping, get in, get out.

Chasing Trane celebrates its subject with great passion, but it often feels like walking in late into a good party.

A compelling mess.

Stupid yet cogent, High School High is a rapid-fire gag machine that's dopey enough to get belly laughs and smart enough to earn a C-plus as engaging entertainment.

Uneven, occasionally silly, true, but it's also an improvement over 2006's "X-Men: The Last Stand."

Plays like the cinematic equivalent of a paperback bodice- ripper with embossed type.

The Beach Boys is a breezy CliffsNotes version of the band’s ups and downs and cultural relevance and should interest established fans — even if they know it all already — and younger music enthusiasts who are looking for a window in.

There’s nothing particularly innovative about the filmmaking, but Becoming Nobody does its job: helping spread Ram Dass’ message in a polarized world in which we tend to emphasize our differences, not our similarities.

As a movie, it's far from compelling. As a thrill ride, though, it's a rampaging special effects and animatronics extravaganza that will make small children cringe behind their seats.

A skillfully observed but never quite satisfying lesbian romantic drama.

Her direction is weak, her dialogue is cliched, and her acting lacks energy and focus.

Poetry, lesbian sex and murder might be a killer combination if a deadly pace weren't included in the mix.

Ari Gold’s The Song of Sway Lake is saturated with a kind of melancholy nostalgia, and viewers who can accept that will find other virtues as well in this flawed film. It’s a story of familial unhappiness passing down through generations, impressive before it begins to lose focus.

Despite its posh trimmings, and Fiorentino's feline presence, Jade never rises above its limitations and never cloaks the fact that Eszterhas' dialogue and script are basically pulp -- minus the trashy fun that we've come to expect from the genre.

Yet for all its faults and limitations, Swing Kids is not necessarily easy to forget. [05 Mar 1993]