Ripe with offbeat Americana, Beesley's rockumentary is also a portrait of growing up in a white-trash Okie ghetto.

Far from perfect, but it only commits minor infractions of inconsistency and zeal for every plot twist.

The only difference between the two films is that this one chronicles Capote's New York environment in more detail (and with humorous interludes), and it's a tad lighter in tone and perhaps a bit less high-horse condemning of its subject's literary ethics.

The ordeal undeniably strikes an emotional chord, and much of this is due to Holmes, who wonderfully communicates both the character's streak of rebellion and her desire to atone. The movie is a solid star vehicle for her.

Not surprisingly, the best thing on the screen is Mirren.

Don't give the kids any sugar before this one -- it's so hyperactive it'll send them into overdrive without it.

While the movie may border on teen exploitation in many scenes, its heart and values are mostly in the right place, and it qualifies its thrill of victory with a very sober message: few high school athletes become NBA millionaires, many are cheated out of an education.

It's a handsome production, nicely shot by Elliot Davis on Italian and Moroccan locations, with a performance by Castle-Hughes ("Whale Rider") as the Virgin that's so pleasing and minimalist it could have been lifted from a fresco by Giotto.

The truly bizarre Ben Stiller farce, Night at the Museum, is no laugh riot, and misfires all over the screen, but it develops its own unique charm and leaves a pleasant afterglow. A family audience could do worse for a comedy this holiday season.

Ghost Town reworks "Ghost" as a romantic comedy with a miserable hero who sees dead people and is really annoyed by them.

All or Nothing has some appealing performances, several scenes of absolutely shattering domestic drama and an uncanny aura of gut-wrenching, documentarylike authenticity.

Much of it is imaginatively directed (by Leonard Kastle, a one-time director who took over after Martin Scorsese was fired) and the film has the same distinctive, rather charming low-budget noir look of Night of the Living Dead, Hideous Sun Demon and other super-low-budget cult films of the '60s. [04 Dec 1992]

Mostly fun to watch, buoyed by some strong dialogue and performances by the supporting cast.

After a slow start, these two characters absolutely absorbed me. The drama develops a strong (and not altogether pleasant) voyeuristic appeal and the performance of Karen Sillas (a regular of the Hal Hartley movies) gradually becomes one of the most devastating and original performances I've seen by an actress in a movie this year. [07 Oct 1994]

It induces a serious case of sensory overload that left me drained and edgy.

Only a qualified success. It suffers in its transition from page to film, and my guess is that its devoted fan base will think the adaptation misses the mark by more than a few inches.

John Travolta is nothing if not cool as Chili Palmer.

Has a certain ghoulish fascination, and generates a fair amount of B-movie excitement.

In some ways it suffers from the same unredemptive afflictions as Elwood and his gang: It's a bit flaccid and flabby and lumbers gracelessly along without self awareness or humanity.

A dumb film with a great conceptual hook from a director who visualizes better than he dramatizes.

A wide-ranging, disturbing look at our obsession with our looks.

Director Marcelo Pineyro imbues the film with mood and style and yet the violent climax holds little thrall as a lack of character development makes it had to care about the robbers' fate.

A slow, sometimes difficult film, Bright Future offers little immediate payoff to the patient viewer.

It's unspeakably morbid, and never adds up to be something special.

It's a parade of insanity, murder, suicide, arson and crimes of passion; delivered in a style as sardonic and tongue-in-cheek as a Vincent Price monologue; complemented by deadpan narration that keeps injecting inappropriate bits of civic boosterism.

It makes for a sweet and heartwarming story even as it celebrates and justifies the entire ridiculous phenomenon that Deruddere has been spoofing all along.

It's an art-house genre piece, very much in the tradition of "Enchanted April," "Shirley Valentine" and "Under the Tuscan Sun." But, a few charming scenes aside, A Good Year is in the hands of the wrong star and wrong director.

A moving and touching documentary.