One conclusion is inescapable. You have really seen something you don't see every day.

This quietly gripping film is both universal and particular.

Merits watching if only because it's a bracing corrective to the deeply entrenched image of Europe's Jews plodding, sheep-like, to their deaths in Nazi concentration camps.

If the idea of playing Scrabble conjures up dreary images of dull evenings with aged family relatives, you haven't met the subjects of Eric Chaikin and Julian Petrillo's irresistible documentary.

Claustrophobic, gripping, and incredibly intense throughout, Monkey Shines is an extremely complicated emotional drama that taps into the dark side of family ties, friendship, dependency, nurturing, and love.

This short, gentle film is surprisingly involving.

On the surface, nothing really happens, but to call it a nonevent would be to miss the point entirely.

For all its emphasis on working-class integrity, The Commitments is really Fame wrapped in streetwise packaging.

At 155 minutes, this screen adaptation of Shakespeare's most celebrated play bears scars from deep cuts in the text.

Dialogue is kept to a bare minimum, but the film's complex underlying sound mix -- a subtle symphony of faintly heard voices and the muted sounds of cars -- adds a haunting texture to what could have been the slightest of stories about a woman's ephemeral victory over emotional numbness.

It's vulgar, to be sure, but it's also brash and invigorating.

It's sweet-natured, soothing and there's a behind-the-scenes/blooper reel at the end that will reassure anyone worried about the animals' treatment during filming.

A creepy, atmospheric little film that uses a great cast to its best advantage. Worth seeing.

That director and co-writer Gurinder Chadha transforms this sitcom material into a lively and charming film about the melting pot at full boil probably owes something to the fact that her own multicultural bona fides are firmly in order.

It's a conspiracy theory worthy of "The X-Files."

The film may be lighter in tone than Imamura's more recent work, but it still has a number of serious things to say about life in contemporary Japan.

It should come as no surprise that there's an American remake in the works, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon and directed by Martin Scorsese.

Richly atmospheric but a little thin in the character department: It feels oddly truncated, despite nicely textured performances.

The material is inherently compelling and anchored by Washington's performance.

Writer-producer-director Dale Launer's breezy comedy LOVE POTION NO. 9 is the perfect date movie. It's light and fast-paced, with several funny moments and a predictably happy ending. Don't look for anything beyond that.

It may seem mean-spirited to complain that in the end Burton's spectacle is a bit hollow. But his genius has always resided in his ability to give depth and a curious, dark richness to the ephemeral fluff of his pop-culture memories -- this is all sparkly surface.

Written and directed in a campy, tongue-in-cheek style, it's a loving homage to those wild imports from Hong Kong--kung-fu movies.

Director-writer Jarmusch's characters are insignificant antiheroes adrift in an America that is both sad and beautiful. Jarmusch has a powerful visual sense, but he is weaker in the realm of content. The jazzy relationship between Lurie and Waits never quite clicks. As a result Down By Law merely reiterates the ideas about people and American life that Jarmusch had already stated more richly in Stranger Than Paradise.

Disco gets its due in this lightweight but entertaining look at the underground dance culture that flourished in New York City throughout the 1970s.

An effective, tightly constructed thriller that packs an emotional punch in the end, when even its politics are compelling.

Resembles the giggly teen romances that saturate the Japanese market with a coolly alienated French twist.

Slight and whimsical.

The manic energy of the lively and outrageous opening sequence sets a tone and pace the film can't maintain.

A pitch-perfect parody of poverty row horror/sci-fi pictures of the 1950s, Larry Blamire's meticulous takeoff could easily be taken for the real thing, which is both its genius and its Achilles heel.

The implausible plot is intriguing, with some good performances by the cast that make it work. The pace is fine, with some genuine moments of suspense that work well within the story's framework.

Mehta says it all so articulately and with such good humor.

A vivid telling of a familiar story -- the rise and fall of a street criminal -- bolstered by exceptional performances and a clear-eyed take on the economics of dealing and the pathology of ghetto fabulousness.

The plot is simple, allowing Polanski great freedom to play with his characters and to give his audience rousing fight scenes. Although the film is a bit slow and talky in spots, it fills the long-ignored gap in Hollywood-style swashbuckling pictures.

Slight but affecting.

Although some of the humor falls flat in this Allen comedy, his satire of revolutions and revolutionaries is perpetually topical.

Romero paints a bleak picture of a bureaucracy that has nothing but contempt for the lives of private citizens, zealously harbors secrets, and gives unbelievable power to a basically incompetent military.

If it's not an entirely wholesome portrait of the immigrant experience, it's certainly an entertaining one.

It's a lightweight piece with not much of a plot but plenty of amusing lines in the middle of familiar situations.

Excessively gory, FORBIDDEN WORLD nonetheless has several well-directed suspense scenes, and its special effects are impressive for a low-budget effort.

Solidly entertaining and surprisingly free of the Mamet-isms that can suck the life right out of the most tightly crafted story.

Packed with more information than can possibly be digested in a single viewing, the film will be a bracing eye-opener to anyone who hasn't considered the full implications of recent Congressional debates advocating further media deregulation.

Lots of laughs, little sense, and pure fantasy. Produced by Fonda's company, NINE TO FIVE is an amusing way to spend 110 minutes, but hardly memorable.

It's enjoyable poppycock.

The cast — a felicitous blend of character actors and up-and-comers — work together like a street-smart machine, and Hoffman's scummy turn as porn-peddler and all-around creep King is a reminder of just how sleazily funny he can be.

Unfortunately, the script leaves something to be desired--namely, dramatic impetus. Yet Hard Times is still an enjoyable film, and the depression-era settings are painstakingly captured.

Has an interesting look, several sensational performances (notably from Kyle MacLachlan and Liev Schreiber) and in general works far better than it has any right to.

Runge's coolly photographed, intricately plotted feature is always interesting in its execution, but disappointingly pat in its resolution.

A gentle and effective heart-tugger, Cocoon tries to make its audience feel good, but you can't help but feel uneasy about the vision of old age that director Ron Howard depicts--one in which the young cannot accept the notion of getting old. The derivative special effects feel like leftovers from the infinitely superior Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

The performances are uniformly excellent.

Not unlike her first film, True Love, director Nancy Savoca's big-studio follow-up is more an actor's piece than a fully formed film, its subject yet another rambling contemplation of the rocky relations between the sexes. But it's also no less enjoyable and no less deeply felt.

Charming.

The long section during which Kennedy and crew (including Ty Hardin, Robert Culp, and James Gregory) get to know each other is slow going, but the action scenes are generally worth the wait.

No, there's nothing intelligent here--just a couple of likable fellows trying to stop mad Brewmeister Smith (Max von Sydow) from gaining control of the world.

The film's most memorable character is the perpetually stoned surfer played by Sean Penn. His confrontations with Mr. Hand (Walston), a draconian history teacher, provide the film's finest moments.

Despite an intelligent title performance by Ben Kingsley and impressive cinematography in the manner of David Lean, this huge, clunky biopic offers less than meets the eye. Director Attenborough seeks not to understand but to canonize his subject; as a result, both Gandhi's teachings and the complexities of Indian political history are distorted and trivialized.

About as subtle as a hammer blow to the skull and marred by a heedless mixture of fact and fiction.

The story's not much, but this dark comedy contains moments of unexpected wit.

It's straightforwardly entertaining and a genuine nail-biter.

The feminist subtext here is intentional -- the credits list a Wiccan priestess as witchcraft consultant! -- but any subtlety soon gets lost in the thud and blunder of special effects, trendy music and a predictable Hollywood-style climax.

Picking up some 10 years after the previous film left off, this stripped-down, intelligently conceived follow-up is a respectable conclusion to the Terminator trilogy.

Spheeris succeeds in creating a touching portrait, although the depressing nature of their dead-end, emotionally numb lives offers little hope for a cheerful resolution.

The film's crisp photography and energetic soundtrack liven up a mystery that occasionally defies logic and at other times is transparent--but that never loses our interest, primarily because of Washington's masterfully understated performance.

Well-plotted action, but as in most of Leone's films scenes seem to have been deleted from the American prints.

If his ambitious first feature isn't entirely successful, it nevertheless poses genuinely provocative questions and opens a window into the way the 9/11 disaster looks from outside the U.S.

Hughes, though he gives the material a sense of fun and achieves several moments of genuine warmth, too often resorts to obvious cliches, stereotypes, and easy answers, and throws in the near-obligatory rock video as well.

Much of the film is shot from a dog's-eye view, and this technique works perfectly. The human actors are okay but not as cool as the canine star, a veteran of TV's Petticoat Junction series.

Although Benny used this film as a running gag on his radio show for years (claiming it had ruined his movie career), there are some comic gems here, especially in the smash finale.

Be warned: the silly songs are damnably catchy, from Gerrit's ode to the seventeen pigeons he keeps on the roof, which he sings while sporting a very tight set of white undergarments, to the rousing "Ja Zuster, Nee Zuster."

Nobody shows much evidence of acting ability, and the script is full of holes. Nonstop action is what these films are about, and that's what you get here.

Bleak political parable.

This is a film worth seeing, and LaBute is a filmmaker well worth watching.

Michael Meeropol provides a far more eloquent statement of the song's enduring impact: "Until the last racist is dead, 'Strange Fruit' is relevant."

You don't have to be Jewish to love Jonathan Kesselman's uneven, profane and occasionally flat-out hilarious parody of vintage blaxploitation pictures, but it helps.

This amiable comedy may not be hugely sophisticated, but Hogan does manage to make his attractive leads look like complete idiots, no mean achievement in image-obsessed Hollywood.

Rapp's snappy, loquacious and catty script gives the predominantly female ensemble plenty to chew on.

A supremely slick piece of entertainment where style triumphs over substance.

The look is utterly faithful to Tezuka's aesthetic -- he loved classic Disney animation, especially "Bambi" (1942) -- but it's hard to empathize with the angst of a character who looks like a Super Mario Brother.

Not surprisingly, the film is strongest when its characters are simply hanging out, shooting the breeze and venting their feelings, while moments of high drama occasionally fall flat.

Great cast plays the whole thing with tongue in cheek.

There's little new here, but uniformly powerful performances (especially Owen's) give the tale unexpected power and depth, and the exotic details--like the elaborate tribal tattoos worn by Nig's gang, or the Maori chants Boogie learns in reform school--make the Heke family's descent into misery seem fresher than it otherwise might.

This anti-thriller radiates dread rather than suspense; it delivers creeping apprehension rather than adrenaline-pumping kicks, and the uniformly strong and finely calibrated performances more than compensate for the absence of technical razzle-dazzle.

Terrific acting and fearless direction transform what might have been a silly exercise in the slightly spooky into a somber and deeply romantic mystery.

Writer-director Pan Nalin's film is at its best when he focuses on the meticulous, hands-on preparation of herb- and mineral-based drugs; it's also genuinely provocative to hear Ayurvedists argue that healing should be a vocation rather than a career.

A fairly serious psychodrama rendered in cartoon images.

A powerful and complex performance by Connery is somewhat weakened by Lumet's typically stiff and stagey direction, which tends to sap the life out of the film.

Cinematographer Ken Kelsch, Ferrara's frequent collaborator, picks up the theme of overlapping lives by layering images within scenes -- the ongoing interplay of reflections and shadows is breathtaking -- and through slow, shimmering dissolves.

Superior drive-in exploitation fare.

With a concept as thin as this, Planes, Trains and Automobiles could have easily become a repetitious bore. Instead, producer-director-writer Hughes infuses his film with an appealing sense of sentiment and humanity--not to mention many hilarious scenes.

Brassy and energetic, first-time director Mars Callahan's vividly photographed ode to the seductive allure of professional sharking succeeds in making the game seem genuinely kinetic and thrilling.

Potent and simmering if sometimes a little overstated, THE CHOSEN manages to elicit a tolerable and appropriate performance from the generally emetic Benson.

Mark Rydell shows some fine touches in his third feature, but the result is an overlong and often-dull movie that had the rare distinction of being one of the few John Wayne westerns that gasped at the box office.

This wry, low-key comedy, crafted by members of the sketch-comedy group The State, swims defiantly against the stream of contemporary comedy, eschewing bodily-function jokes and obvious gags in favor of laughs so sly and self-effacing you could almost overlook them.

It would have been nice if Hardwick had a bigger budget for retakes to work out some of the supporting actors' stiffness, but he does keep the story moving, finding the humor in characters caught up in their own machinations rather than cheap wisecracks.

The harder you try to follow the narrative the more frustrating the film becomes, but its sleekly menacing images work their way into your brain like slivers of dry ice.

Entertaining documentary.

Strikes a carefully calibrated balance between the film's darkly malicious sense of humor and its pastel sets and costumes.

Not only do the firefighting scenes evoke a feeling of gritty authenticity, but the fire itself really does seem to be alive.

Ultimately, the film relies too heavily on consensual acceptance of baseball iconography as some kind of symbolic shorthand for all kinds of American values. These days, most of us prefer the NBA.