This is another rough-edged, noodling affair in which genial but frustratingly self-absorbed twenty- and thirty-somethings chatter on and on about their lives, loves and finances.

Based on a true story -- that never happened. That might explain why the film circles and circles its subject but never strikes dramatic pay dirt.

Only in the loosest sense is X Games 3D: The Movie an actual movie. It is essentially a promotional film for extreme action sports and ESPN.

Remaking eccentric English comedies is seldom a good idea, especially the ones from Ealing Studios with all those wonderful character actors. But against all odds, the new version of St. Trinian's almost pulls it off.

An ambitious, visually handsome production which fails to ignite.

It's almost laughably bland and watered-down in its desire to appeal to the widest possible audience. It won't succeed in that goal, but it has enough pizzazz to captivate undemanding tweeners.

Under Tucci's direction, Blind Date careens into tedium as the couple plays out permutations of a blind-date pairing.

You are not likely to see a better display of martial arts combat on screen for some time, even if you have to put up with some excruciating contrivances to get to it.

Zemeckis' A Christmas Carol is, in its essence, a product reel, a showy, exuberant demonstration of the glories of motion capture, computer animation and 3D technology. On that level, it's a wow. On any emotional level, it's as cold as Marley's Ghost.

Unfortunately, writer-director Rebecca Miller's script tries so hard to be nervous and edgy that it ultimately succeeds only in making its viewers nervous and edgy.

Berenger uses his weathered visage and trademark intensity to good effect, but his efforts are undercut by the overwhelmingly cliched script.

The movie offers enough solid laughs to ensure a decent audience on DVD and cable. That audience could have been even larger, however, were the proceedings just a little smarter and a whole lot funnier.

It's a measure of the times that the new version of The Karate Kid manages to be longer and bigger-budgeted than the original while having lesser impact.

Saving the day is Harrelson's low-key, rooted performance, adding an unexpected layer of poignancy when things take a decidedly darker turn.

Though the intended hilarity is forced and flat, there's a sweetness to the silliness.

A loud, disjointed and not terribly funny comedy, which probably is what one expects with a title like that. The unfortunate thing is, it didn't need to be.

Manages to be enjoyable despite its contrivances.

One's appreciation of this film depends largely on one's ability to be amused by a Dadaist prankster and interest in the Pop Art scene in the middle of the last century.

The promise of a stylish psychological thriller is squandered in Camera Obscura, which lapses into an ordinary, wearying tale of a nice guy in over his head with ruthless criminals.

Will best be appreciated by those who are already firmly in Earle's camp.

Woo masterfully stages fierce and memorably destructive cinematic sequences, but his use of slow motion becomes tiresome, and the motorcycles-and-kung fu finale gets pretty hokey. Cruise comes off as fearless and virile, and his fans should not be disappointed in the slightest. [24 May 2000]

While the film, directed by Hany Abu-Assad, provides a vivid portrait of the landscape, its dramatic aspects are less impressive, with the contrived plot and paper-thin characterizations basically serving to provide a framework for its impressionistic portrait.

Unfortunately lacks much in the way of compelling narrative or credible characterizations, but it once again reaffirms Huppert's place in the pantheon of French film actors.

A perky comedy aimed at young women that gets the job done with crisp efficiency.

Keith Gordon's brave attempt to make cinematic sense of Potter's 1986 BBC mini "The Singing Detective" at least has the advantage of a screenplay finished by Potter before his death. But problems of style and tone bedevil the earnest effort.

A wobbly comedy-drama.

Chabrol has been making and remaking this film for six decades now. He seemingly will never tire of explaining how tired he is of the petit bourgeoisie.

Meant to be purposefully banal. Unfortunately, there's a thin line between purposefully banal and simply banal, and Ben Coccio's debut feature too often crosses it.

In this well-intentioned celebration of nature and traditional ways of life, giant-screen images feel generic when they should inspire wonder.

There's little to distinguish this tale from the countless similar efforts that have preceded it, other than the exoticism of its setting. The performers do manage to bring some life to their characters.

Ultimately suffers from an overabundance of plot and a paucity of depth, but it does provide some fleeting comic pleasures along the way.

All too ironically titled as it details in lethargic and sometimes convoluted fashion the stories of the many heroic and often unsung figures involved.

Although the film loses its way in the late going with a preponderance of melodramatic elements that dilute the more compelling social message, for much of its running time it packs a visceral punch, thanks in large part to a strong cast headed by LisaRaye, N'Bushe Wright and Mos Def.

The cheap and cheerful picture has its humorous moments thanks to Steven P. Baer's broad but buoyant script and a supporting cast of character actors who know how to hit a good line home.

The frenetic pace detracts from the film's wealth of personalities and vivid visuals. There's the unshakable sense that Rugrats Go Wild is trying too hard to please kids and adults and as a result falls somewhat short for both sets of viewers.

More demanding viewers hoping for the cruel wit of DeVito's "Throw Momma From the Train" or "The War of the Roses" will likely be disappointed by its lack of comic bite.

Despite the fact there's no lack of raw material, Bukowski fails to place its subject's actions and statements in any psychological or literary context. It's simply a celebration of Bukowski's misogyny and self-abuse.

Noisy, standard-issue cop actioner.

Swing does have the advantage of boasting a fair amount of genuine onscreen talent.

Squanders its potentially rich possibilities.

While the supporting players fall victim to their broadly conceived roles, Baio and Minter underplay charmingly, and actually manage to make us care about their characters despite their less than credible aspects.

Mild in both humor and impact, this well-cast comedy should provide welcome diversion during the holidays for audiences looking for a somewhat lighter experience than the crucifixion of Christ or the massacre at the Alamo.

Ultimately unsatisfying.

Although its goofy high-concept premise won't bear much scrutiny, it offers a less predictable ride than their first pairing, and lush Hawaiian locations to boot.

Far too bloody for the art house crowd and too leisurely paced and obscure for more general audiences.

Another heartfelt coming-of-age story that plays much more like a television movie than a theatrical feature.

The movie so successfully raises the emotional and psychological stakes in the first half that not all audiences may like the film's reversion to con-artist form in the second. The con itself is preposterous and full of holes when we think back after the movie.

Flawed but imaginative film.

For comedy, director Peter Howitt relies on halfhearted slapstick as the script contains little of the sharp dialogue one might expect from a script written at least in part by Harling ("Steel Magnolias," "Soapdish").

The movie displays an almost preternatural disregard for women's feelings — call it Pygmalion, with a heavy accent on the first syllable — but the comedy is so slickly delivered that audiences may be content with chuckling over its polished surface charms.

Maybe Roth was too busy paying tribute to all his childhood influences to take the necessary steps, but even in this uneasy era of SARS and other airborne horrors, his flesh-eating virus movie never convincingly gets under the skin.

This week's campaign commercial, er, political documentary, is a portrait of Democratic candidate Sen. John Kerry's service in Vietnam.

An action romp with heart. If that heart is somewhat misguided, it's hard to deny the family-friendly thrills and spills along the way.

Eventually gets so bogged down in its own quirkiness that its humanistic message gets lost.

It ultimately lacks the singularity to make it stand out among the glut of similarly themed entries.

Unconvincing melodrama.

This directorial debut from C. Jay Cox is a sometimes comic melodrama.

Jamie Foxx finds his funny bone is firmly intact in the effervescent, urban-flavored romantic comedy Breakin' all the Rules.

The result is not the train wreck one might anticipate from surfing the Net. The catfights, overacting and Berry's swagger in a skimpy, tight, leather outfit that would be right at home at a Hookers Ball make for campy fun.

Outfoxed would have benefited from a greater exploration of exactly why Fox News has become so popular and so trusted by its viewers.

The Coen brothers had a golden opportunity to make a darkly humorous, deliciously clever battle of the sexes, and they let it slip through their fingers. Instead, the duo... settled for a broad farce that is long on manic, cartoonish behavior and short on intelligence and wit.

Rote characterizations and a trite, even condescending, attitude toward that era's misguided mores robs the film of the satiric punch Todd Haynes delivered in "Far From Heaven."

Glorious so-bad-it's-good entertainment.

A well-intentioned but unconvincing fable about a young boy struggling to overcome his fear of mortality.

Emerges as a frustrating cop-out.

A confusing blend of noir mystery and screwball comedy, Testosterone never manages to reconcile its conflicting tones and ultimately lacks the wit necessary to fuel its outlandish plotting.

Macy once again brightens an otherwise mundane character.

A big fluff ball of a sex farce that's so light and flimsy it's a wonder they were able to thread it through the projector.

Things spin swiftly out of control with uneven acting and misfired physical gags.

What captures the audience's attention is Ardent's mesmerizing performance.

The provocative issues of Silent Waters are unfortunately undercut by schematic plotting and one-dimensional characterizations, but the forcefulness of its message makes it a rewarding cinematic experience.

The film should please his (Sokurov's) fans even while proving a frustrating, tedious experience for most art house audiences.

The film doesn't manage to achieve for hip-hop what the great rock concert films of the past have done for their musical genre.

The film's real failure is that neither the story nor the characters capture the zeitgeist that Bertolucci theoretically set out to celebrate.

Despite its lineage and some impressive special effects, Contact is a disappointingly earthbound production, weighed down by the ballast of talking-heads dramaturgy and bloated storytelling.

This documentary about Howard Zinn provides an effective if not necessarily comprehensive or objective portrait of the esteemed historian and activist.

An often funny if slight satire that's never as edgy as it thinks it is or as sharply focused as it needs to be.

The laughs tend to come in fits and starts, built around individual set pieces rather than being generated organically out of the storytelling.

Might be a lame, formulaic comedy, but it sets up entertaining sequences cleverly designed for the talents of three of its stars and has the good sense to get out of the way and let audiences enjoy their performances.

Does offer a few deeply felt moments.

A slim idea for a pulp-fiction short story padded out to 81 minutes with random encounters and celebrity sightings.

Awkward comic timing and uneven performances spoil the desired effect.

Does possess some eccentric moments of high camp humor. But other than that, this low-concept slasher/horror film suffers from creaky direction, a tatty story line, and -- even worse, considering the genre -- a lack of suspense and shocks.

For a while there, Mathieu Kassovitz's atmospherically charged direction sucks the viewer into the story's hellish vortex. That is until the film becomes possessed by an increasingly ludicrous beyond-the-grave element from which there is no rational return.

The one-gag camp-athon has gone over big at gay film festivals, but in theatrical release this debut feature from theater/TV veteran Richard Day has limited appeal. Its best bet will be as a rental item.

The film leaves any opponent of the current administration with a discouraging ambivalence: On one hand, one wants to vehemently decry such tactics in American politics. On the other, one wants to know where the hell is the Democrats' Karl Rove?

Smith stumbles setting up dramatic confrontations and strains credibility a time or two with implausible moments.

The heist itself is almost dull, and the characters aren't half as colorful or interesting as they need to be.

Attempts to pass itself off as a fast-paced caper picture doubling as a socially conscious apartheid drama but ends up equally unconvincing in both departments.

Designed to maximize the visual opportunities for Imax's cameras even as it minimizes the dramatic conflicts that make for a satisfying moviegoing experience.

When there's a whole mess of zombie killing to be done, who cares about reflective writing or that time-wasting element of suspense?

Girls ages 6-14 will get a charge from the fashion show, animation effects and, to a lesser degree, the cartoonish antics. But like most adolescent histrionics, the pic's impact on adults will be limited to mild amusement alternating with annoyance.

Pallid acting and a general lack of spirit ultimately result in a bland costume drama.

An entertaining piece of supernatural nonsense whose sheer audacity disarms all (well, nearly all) skepticism.

May be too clever for its own good. Essentially, it's the story of weekend scientists who build a time machine in a suburban garage. But this nearly gets lost in a miasma of technical jargon and scientific conjecture.

Gibson's intense concentration on the scourging and whipping of the physical body virtually denies any metaphysical significance to the most famous half-day in history.

In outline, the story is pretty funny, and the film's outlandish takes on sports-movie conventions deliver some laughs. But Thurber chooses the low road to those laughs so often that he undermines his own satirical design. His actors certainly deliver amusing, spirited performances, but again, they get done in by relentless adolescent humor.

Sustains a few icy chills, but a mix of genres muddles the story.