When Annabel Chong sits in front of Gough Lewis' camera and complains about her need to have one of those normal everyday lives, you want to tell her that having intercourse on camera with more than 200 men is probably not the way to get to normal.

An edgy, hypnotic entertainment that's like a Club Med production of "Lord of the Flies."

Blakeney can't decide if this is a quirky romantic comedy or a quirky mob essay, and you can see the movie thinking itself into a rhythmless hole with cement shoes.

At its savviest, Scream 3 is a cheeky conceptual conceit, cheaply executed for the sake of achieving trilogy status. Instead, it's like a carnival that's been in town a week too long.

Second-banana material.

The single worst movie David Lynch never made.

Latest Freddie Prinze Jr. vehicle stalls at on-ramp.

The punch line isn't that funny.

What remains is Washington's volcanic and contemplative work at the core of a film packed to the rafters with raging bull.

Harris, Heche make unholy twosome.

Segues from the merely quirky into the bizarrely unthinkable.

A wicked, light-headed first half dissolves into a bloody, head-bashing second half . The previews make it seem like a comedy. It isn't.

The director bludgeons us dumb with her genius.

An exceptionally funny science-fiction comedy.

It's that rare movie with a sense of timeliness that is eternal, and a protagonist whose soul-crushed angst, even at its most fatal, speaks to the little boy/girl lost in everyone.

A football epic on performance enhancers that may be more flagrantly flawed, more shockingly predictable and just plain cornier than its rickety predecessors.

The author calls the movie "perfect" - reassurance that the director hasn't tried to pull any fast ones.

A fascinating, sometimes profound curiosity.

As cosmetically sanitized revisions of history go: This is as good as it gets.

In Winona Ryder's case, Girl Interrupted is a showcase in which her brittle, angry portrait shows she has graduated from ingenue to actress.

Mike Leigh's great big, superbly performed homage to the creative process.

Entertaining but predictable, and too long.

Hot-blooded.

An enervated adaptation of E.B. White's Stuart Little escapades.

Reinforcing the chasm between movie magic and wishful thinking.

It's a more intelligent and dimensional epic than, say, "Anna and the King." Emperor is worth every single penny.

Spellbinding.

Roth, though, is like a sociopathic arsonist, one enthralled with his ability to start little blazes and one who would even call the fire department, but wouldn't stick around to see whether anyone put them out.