The story is simple enough for young children to follow, and the computer-animated images are both bright and surprisingly complex. Adults won't find the action heart-stopping.

The very loose plot of WILD STYLE serves mainly as an excuse for rap-and-dance numbers and the sight of prominent East Coast graffiti artists playing themselves, sometimes with magnetism and panache (Brathewaite), sometimes without (everybody else).

An offbeat Italian western that has a sense of cocky fun about it.

A funny if somewhat retrograde film.

Yash Chopra's thinly veiled plea for reconciliation between India and Pakistan is cloaked in a decades-spanning Romeo-and-Juliet romance.

A terrific showcase for a troupe of fine actors who rarely find work outside the Australian film industry.

As a director, La Salle manages to sustain a mood of looming menace almost throughout, and as an actor he gets the film's best joke: When his Satan fills out his hospital admission form, he gives his social security number as 666.

A little too much talk and not enough action, but it's still fun.

Not only one of the most spectacular cartoons ever made, but also a reasonably adult piece of sci-fi.

The documentary is undeniably entertaining, but it suffers from an uneven selection of clips, sloppy historical research, and, ultimately, an overabundance of riches.

Brisk, glossy and gloriously art-directed, Scorsese's lavish biopic is a pop trifle, engaging but not compelling.

(Bassett's) finally been given another part worthy of her talents, and she makes the most of it.

Dense collage of digitally altered images often looks shockingly like some super-hip media agency's show reel.

Well-acted, likably small-scale, full of good intentions, but hardly a corker.

A sleazy, seamy, flashy, steamy, vulgar exploitation thriller that revels in every minute of its own trashiness and delivers some pretty solid -- if prurient -- entertainment before strangling in a one-twist-too-many ending.

This lushly produced, lightweight romance embraces every cliche of the genre without so much as an ironic shrug.

Though Bittner's slacker charm may not be to all tastes, the parrots are natural-born scene-stealers with more than enough charm to seduce the most dubious viewer.

This remake really can't compare with the 1932 original and Lee is given no chance to flesh out his character in the haunting manner that Boris Karloff did, but for fairly standardized movie horror, this flick isn't half bad.

Though it unfolds like a thriller, it's ultimately a tragedy.

There's very little plot, and director Mangold's attempts to make a connection between the social confusion of the '60s and Susanna's inner turmoil don't really work.

Their subtle, complex performances could put far more experienced and better-known actors to shame.

The film lacks the turbulent social context of the 1950s and '60s that lent resonance to the personal uncertainties of Ibgy's forebears -- Holden Caufield, Ben Braddock, et al. But Culkin has a way with quip-heavy dialogue that transforms what might otherwise been irritatingly, solipsistic posing into a great performance.

An honorable film, beautifully acted, refreshingly un-camp in its take on wide lapels and progressive rock and occasionally coolly moving. It's just that ultimately, there's less here than meets the eye.

Filmed in glamourous black and white (with vampire POV sequences shot in arty Pixelvision), it's one of the most mannered horror flicks ever made.

Is there no one in Allen's circle who dares to tell the master this ain't funny?

Ten tumultuous years in the history of the gay rights movement serve as the backdrop for this warm, engaging romantic comedy.

The film is marvelously acted -- the Bolger sisters are a delight -- and Sheridan captures New York City's crazy energy as only an newcomer can.

By turns profane, vulgar, unpredictable, scabrous and perpetually somewhere between buzzed and three sheets to the wind, Bukowski opened a window onto a fringe world of blue-collar drudgery and alcoholic self-obliteration with his blistering, bleakly comic dispatches from the gutter.

This comic extravaganza starts off funny, but exhausts rather than delights.

A blockbuster hit in Korea, Park's feature debut is a beguiling mix of the generic and the unfamiliar, and it ends on a shot that's nothing short of heartbreaking.

Far from the sentimental drivel you might expect given the subject matter, this amiable and heartfelt drama about an adolescent boy's attempt to rouse his comatose mother explores the meaning of faith by tapping into the original, rebellious spirit of Christianity.

Director Sturla Gunnarsson crams each sequence with subtle, telling detail while avoiding "exotic India" clichés.

Adapted from Booth Tarkington's Penrod stories and his Alice Adams, the Warner Bros. production suffuses its folksy story in nostalgia but never completely warms the hearts it aims for.

The Mack is lacking in narrative drive and logic, but offers an entertainingly exploitative portrait of a self-made gangster.

Powell can't give his shallow role much depth beyond a consideration of Ziegfeld's incredible ambition and ego, but he does give it energy and rascally charm.

Mark Moormann's documentary tends to the worshipful, but Dowd, a charmer onscreen, was by all accounts just as appealing in real life.

wWhat doesn't entirely succeed as convincing psychodrama makes one hell of an acting exercise (it's great fun to see great actors purposely mangle the Bard's immortal words), and Levring's cast -- McTeer in particular -- run with it.

Hrebejk's film remains clear-eyed and satisfyingly complex right to the bitter end.

This silly and bloody, but at times very effective, horror film takes The Exorcist one step further by concentrating, not on possession by the Devil, but on the Antichrist himself.

Beneath the plot's romantic turns lies a surprisingly complex examination of the personal and professional price of honesty; falsehoods, half-truths, little white lies and self-delusion spur most of the key plot developments, and Roos never resorts to platitudes to account for their effects.

The film should be required viewing for all aspiring filmmakers, but the story's road-accident appeal is universal.

While flawlessly delivered, it's overkill--so loud and excessive, it makes our head swim... It's like a sumptous banquet composed entirely of fast food; fills you up but entirely forgettable.

The giddy, "anything could happen" sense that made "Pulp Fiction" and "Reservoir Dogs" so viscerally exciting is missing here. But Tarantino's first picture in nearly three years is a faithful adaptation of Elmore Leonard's "Rum Punch," and its melancholy edge is a wistful delight.

Violent update of The Blackboard Jungle.

A pleasant, mildly inspirational movie but hardly worthy of all the accolades it received.

Piper Perabo is a revelation -- and Barton is maturing into a sensitive, subtle performer with a marvelously expressive face.

Curl your cynical lip if you want, but there's a place for heartwarming, life-affirming, even weepy dramas, and Robert Redford brings the best-selling novel about a traumatized teen and her wounded horse to the screen with dignity and restraint.

Although Chase is very funny, the first half-hour of NATIONAL LAMPOON'S CHRISTMAS VACATION is rather flat; the film really comes to life until the arrival of Cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid), who steals the picture. Nevertheless, with enough sight gags to please slapstick fans and enough good-natured Christmas cheer to qualify as a good holiday film, NATIONAL LAMPOON'S CHRISTMAS VACATION should keep most viewers occupied and provide 97 minutes of goofy entertainment.

Overall the mix of comedy and action is smooth and utterly enjoyable.

In the end, the film feels a little futile; its relentless, one-miserable-note tone is numbing.

This gentle and somewhat slow moving romantic fable has a quiet sweetness all its own, and is thankfully free of the inscrutable ponderousness that often infuses the films of Yektapanah's mentors.

The action here is virtually nonstop and the special effects are often astounding: good and bad guys battle atop speeding trains and the lovers dangle perilously over cliffs and ride through stampeding desert tribes. But THE JEWEL OF THE NILE is missing the faux-innocent tone and consistent narrative invention that made ROMANCING THE STONE work.

This minimalist meditation on loneliness and loss is so spare and drained of color that it seems always on the verge of fading into invisibility.

It's a raw, haunting experience.

The film deploys its disparate elements smartly, and director Hirotsugu Kawasaki can stage an action sequence with the best of them.

The film probes the pitfalls of growing up, tackling such subjects as sex, boozing, and fighting--three areas the Disney folks have stayed clear of in the past. Dillon, though occasionally annoying, turns in a decent performance, as do Jim Metzler as his brother and Meg Tilly as his girlfriend.

The film's heart is the relationship between Elsa and Julien, and stars Bouanich and Serrault have a lovely onscreen rapport that's truly endearing.

It's easy to view the story of these brothers as a larger metaphor for the relationship between the two Koreas, which gives the film an added resonance that your typical Hollywood war movie wouldn't possess.

The multitalented Jaoui and Bacri excel on every level; her direction is efficient and unobtrusive, their script dissects the nuances of corruption by celebrity with a razor-sharp scalpel, and they deliver a pair of subtly unsparing performances.

The film's elliptical character development sometimes renders the actors' work opaque; restraint is an underpracticed virtue, but even it can be taken to excess.

This underrrated shocker has developed a cult following since its scattershot 1973 release, but deserves a wider one.

There are few things as imposing -- or terrifying -- as the sight of the B-52, and the film is beautifully shot with an almost fetishistic passion.

The result is sheer, unadulterated nastiness with no apologies.

Banderas inhabits the role of the mariachi with a feral grace undimished by the seven-year gap between films.

The first American feature from Italian cult director Dario Argento, TRAUMA is not as flamboyant and extreme as his previous films but still manages to deliver the goods.

Kidman accomplishes a remarkable feat of transformation, adopting not only an accent, but a slightly seedy, faintly feral demeanor that almost makes you forget her icy good looks and fashion model's figure.

One problem with the film is that it does nothing to endear the Catskill social setting to an audience; the inhabitants seem to be competing for awards in obnoxiousness.

While the slapstick comedy antics are frequently amusing and, on rare occasions, even hilarious, HOT SHOTS!, like so many other cinematic parodies before it, tends to lose sight--or control--of the plot, such as it is, in favor of more jokes, more visual gags and more dialogue puns--all hurled at the audience at a rapid-fire pace.

This sequel to the surprise 1988 hit is a slicker and ultimately more disturbing film than the first.

Nasty fun all around.

The story is less a sustained narrative than a series of scenes. But personal dynamics are the main event, and McDormand's powerhouse performance alone compensates for many minor deficiencies.

There's a lot of talent on display here: Dukakis has never been better and once again Fitzgerald proves himself to be a filmmaker of unfailing sensitivity, capable of transforming what could have been distastefully flip or overly lachrymose into something humorous but deeply heartfelt.

Viewers are left to draw their own conclusions, which inevitably will be colored by individual reactions to unabashed frontal nudity.

Amusing and at times uproarious.

This psychological thriller takes its time and never delivers the big shocks genre fans raised on its American cousins have come to expect. But it works up a chilly atmosphere of creeping dread, and the tension.

The surprise is that you won't hate it nearly as much as you expect -- thanks to a solid supporting cast, a cute cat and an even cuter Ricci -- and the manic pace will have the kids purring with delight.

Director Nancy Savoca's no-frills record of a show forged in still-raw emotions captures the unsettled tenor of that post 9-11 period far better than a more measured or polished production ever could.

Affectionate, melancholy and anchored by a well thought-out performance from Sean Penn.

Silly, good-natured and thoroughly unpretentious, this giant-spider movie has nothing more on its mind than providing the kind of brainless thrills once delivered by movies like Tarantula (1955), Earth vs. the Spider (1958) and The Giant Spider Invasion (1975).

The payoff doesn't quite equal the intensity of the spectacularly squirm-inducing premise, but Farrell takes his showboating star turn and runs with it.

It's just as juvenile as you'd expect, and even funnier.

WHERE THE DAY TAKES YOU has a consistently engaging narrative that resonates with accuracy and honesty.

A fresh and spirited fairy tale.

Taken as a whole, Robin and Marian is a spotty picture that's sometimes satirical, a trifle pretentious, occasionally exciting.

Loud and brassy, Wayne does a good job in his broad comedy role, although it is doubtful that the picture could have gotten away with the spanking scene if it were made today.

The story is predictable, but Reeder's performance is painfully convincing and the East Village locations so uniformly grimy that they all but weep despair.

It's never dull: Shalhoub's direction is smart, the dialogue is tart and the Adams' family shares a palpable intimacy that translates directly onto the screen.

Director Yates, critically hailed for BULLITT (1968), seems to have little idea what to do with Redford, and the slowest parts of the film are the scenes developing his character into someone the audience still doesn't especially care about. The rest of the film, though, is quite enjoyable as the gang commits elaborate caper after elaborate caper, always finding their objective has just eluded them.

LeRoy's direction is apparently nonexistent, but what this movie really lacks is a good musical score with tunes by someone like Harry Warren, Richard Rodgers, or Cole Porter.

Written with all the bite of a distinctly middle-class church social, this musical re-working of The Philadelphia Story feels distant.

Without the top-notch cast it would be indistinguishable from hundreds of pedestrian serial-killer pictures that clog video store shelves.

What could easily have been a sentimental, fannish exercise in musty nostalgia is in fact a lovely tribute to an era of feverish creativity that seemed as though it would never end yet now lives only in memory.

This sweet film is a genuine treat, even if there's little plot, no antic mayhem and its 90-minute running time is mostly consumed by nonstop, sometimes pretentious dialogue.

Despite its floating narrative, this is a remarkably accessible and haunting film.

While not particularly dramatically compelling, the film is carefully constructed and exposes both the economic and sexual exploitation of illegal workers.

Good, ghoulish fun.

Filled with short, rapid-fire takes, edited to a pulsating beat and punctuated with blasts of noise...the style suits the often violent material, as well as Arquette's remarkable physical performance.

Subtle performances and the "you are there" immediacy conferred by digital video give Roy's film the feel of a series of stolen moments.