The laserdisc of media movies - it plays fine, but it's clunky and cumbersome.

Although most of the stars of this movie are real, live actors, Casper is mostly just a big cartoon in which those live actors must interact with some devilishly clever spectral animation.

Not as predictable as the rest of its ilk.

One is hesitant to praise a movie that takes about an hour to get itself going, but it's important to report that once Out to Sea does get going, it makes you laugh.

Modestly better than last year's awful "End of Days," though it falls well short of Arnold's "Terminator" peak period.

The picture seems to have been intended as a political satire, but only a Hollywood executive could mistake it for the real thing.

A misfire.

A frantic, epic-sized blowout of campy, "Indiana Jones" -style derring-do mixed with lots of computer-generated gee-whizzes.

The veteran Baker anchors the proceedings, and you would like to see more of her character.

The ending is a disappointment, a perfunctory upbeat gesture.

The direction by Roger Donaldson is facile and understated, as is, for the most part, the script by Dennis Feldman. Even the actors pitch in to play down the silliness of it all.

You can see Bobby and Peter Farrelly bent over blowing violently into the sails of this toy boat, trying to get it to move.

Leonardo DiCaprio? Excuse me, Leonardo DiCaprio? I know he makes teenaged girls cry, but, I mean, Leonardo DiCaprio?

The Quick and the Dead takes on a more serious tone - as if, even in this loonily amoral environment, we're supposed to care about atrocities. The film builds to a satisfyingly catastrophic climax full of biblical flames and fluttering bank notes, but there's far too much dead time along the way.

The sudden cranking of the volume that makes us jump, even if we're just watching a cow chew on its cud.

An au natural (read: graphic) tryst-a-thon whose fashion sense is outweighed only by its bulky sexual intellectualism.

The glory of the picture is the eye-popping, surreal backgrounds that blast the conventional characters off the screen.

A proudly unsophisticated demonstration of racial progress.

A smart, funny and endearing movie. It has enough cynicism to satisfy the part of DiCillo that would mock a blue-eyed superstar, yet enough genuine sentiment to make it possible for us to swallow the cynicism.

A workmanlike effort. It's not startling and it's not incompetent.

A loathsome, quite unterrifying and mercifully brief entry in the ongoing series about that homicidal doll, is the best argument I could cite for planned puppethood.

Shows how Tinseltown sensibilities can be well thought out even on a low budget.

Demon Knight may be a good career move by director Ernest Dickerson ( "Juice" ), proving that he can work with a reasonably large budget on a genre film. But the picture breaks no ground, and in terms of his own development, it's hardly a step forward.

Deadly funny.

Demonstrates that sadomasochistic streak in von Trier that equates the raw with the experimental.

Spiritually it's a John Woo-George Romero-Jim Thompson picture, outrageously bloody and weird.

The plot falls with a thud, but the movie is surprisingly involving owing to performances by Connery, who is always an unfaltering standard of honesty and truth; by Fishburne, who has to flip-flop his meanness for frustrated indignation in the end; and by Harris, who actually seethes so hard the veins stand out on his bald skull.

Even the most vigorous tear-duct manipulation, and a few funny scenes, cannot save Dumbo from its dominant tone of stilted corniness and prefab sentimentality.