The film's tone is a matter of taste -- the more you enjoy the melancholy silent comedies of Keaton, Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, the more likely you are to embrace its sensibility -- but it's undeniably the product of a singular and beautifully realized vision.

Parker's adaptation is meticulous, unsentimental, beautifully acted-- but nearly two and a half hours worth of dying babies, rain-spattered streets, ragged children and filthy, bug-infested rooms is a bit oppressive.

Overall, The Comfort of Strangers seems tremendously overwrought for no good reason.

Perhaps the only person more enthralled by the romance of train hopping than the latter-day hobos profiled in this great looking documentary from first-time director Sarah George is George herself.

Parillaud makes for a sympathetic and convincing vampire protagonist, with her appealing accent lending Marie an exoticism she might have lacked with an American actress. Given the apparent intention to make this a strong woman's role, though, it's a shame that she becomes a sex object in a few key moments.

Directed by the prolific but uneven African-American filmmaker Michael Schultz, this well-intentioned biography of the first black auto racing champion, Wendell Scott, features Richard Pryor in an early dramatic role.

Strong performances -- Baldwin's smoothly vicious Shelley is a revelation -- and Kramer's eye for the striking detail give the familiar material its own distinctive flavor.

Despite its shortcomings, it's an effective clarion call that will no doubt stir audiences to action, even if it doesn't quite prepare them for the important battle ahead.

A light, entertaining musical travelogue down the highways and byways of the Pelican State: taping performances, interviewing a few legends and dropping in on various musicologists for a little historical perspective.

The story is shallow stuff, but pretty entertaining until it becomes utterly preposterous.

The whole thing has the air of a parlor trick, but it's a good trick, beautifully acted.

Delivers some powerful emotional wallops alongside the chopsticks-up-the-nose violence, and manages the remarkable feat of making venerable American genre conventions seem eerily alien.

Let's face it, it's about a dead boy who falls in love with a real live girl. The high-tech animation is completely persuasive; nothing else is.

Stunning production design, smart pacing, and a well-handled romantic angle make for a seamless, if undemanding, entertainment.

Very entertaining, if thoroughly silly.

An honorable and well-acted version of Victor Hugo's classic book bag-buster (not the Broadway musical), a sprawling melodrama whose prodigious length and scope have bedeviled all previous adaptations and hang heavily over this one as well.

But fabulous though the allusions, sets and costumes are, Busch's performance is the movie's heart, and like the screen idols whose every gesture he's lovingly absorbed, Busch can pack a world of meaning into an arched eyebrow and a slight crack of the voice.

Though it ultimately devolves into megabudget Hollywood action-movie cliches by way of John Woo, Lee's handsome blockbuster is an entertaining variation on the American formulas that have colonized world cinema.

Like its title, the film is ultimately an affirmation in the face of catastrophic negation, a bit obvious at times but nonetheless welcome.

Distinguishes itself from other such projects by dealing less with the event itself than its devastating aftershocks.

Extensive attention to detail of sets and costumes, superior photography, and standout performances by Taylor, Ferrer, and Woolf put this a cut above other Arthurian legend films.

A refreshing alternative to the hypertrophied spy thrillers in which exaggerated action sequences, over-the-top super-villainy and high-tech gadgetry trump character and plot.

The result, a dissection of the complicated dynamics of sexual and economic exploitation, is pitiless and occasionally inspired.

Huston, with a flawless Irish accent, is simply wonderful as the tough, foul-mouthed and very funny Agnes Browne.

Sumptuous historical melodrama.

An interesting variation of the Frankenstein theme presented with fine production values.

And while Ivy League-educated psychologist Green considers himself a natural teacher, his teaching technique involves pitting students against each other and haranguing them with rants that run from gentle, good-natured ribbing to flat-out verbal abuse, delivered at an ego-crushing volume.

By trying to be both a portrait of Rijker and an introduction to women's boxing, it shortchanges both subjects.

A high-wire spook show without a net -- half the fun is watching it teeter between the tastelessly amusing and the unforgivably gross.

A thin plot heavily laden with many of Neil Simon's best one-liners makes this a pleasant way to spend 102 minutes. Chase contributes a somewhat frantic turn, and Hawn does her cute thing. Some nice work from the secondary players--including Harold Gould, Robert Guillaume, and Yvonne Wilder--adds to the fun.

A fine, straightforward tribute to a sports giant who faced blatant prejudice and paved away for the likes Jackie Robinson, Hank Aaron and other minorities who dared make a place for themselves as heroes of America's greatest pastime.

No doubt captures some of the horror and the chaos of the actual situation, but it makes for a loud, often confusing, and always bloody two and a half hours.

It's refreshing that there's any moral at all, and that despite its warm and fuzzy trappings, the film floats actual ideas and sprinkles serious questions of ethics and morality atop the usual Hollywood syrup.

Brilliant, in its own twisted way.

The Las Vegas locations sizzle and the script at least has the good sense not to take itself too seriously.

The kids -- most of them first-timers cast for natural charisma and musical ability -- steal the show, and a talented supporting cast helps take the edge off Black's manic antics.

A well-crafted exercise in urban paranoia that's so controlled it never achieves the reckless, visceral immediacy its subject matter demands.

The film's bleakly inevitable ending packs a wallop and its hauntingly desolate images linger long after the story is told.

The film loses steam, sabotaged by Joshua Logan's too-obvious direction and receiving little help from a score by Lerner and Loewe that remains one of their minor efforts.

There are some genuinely chilling scenes, but it is still a made-for-TV-ish ROSEMARY'S BABY rip-off.

The fun is in the mayhem, and there's plenty of it.

Somehow the filmmakers managed to take the subject of the mistreatment of migrant workers and turn it into a vehicle for displaying Bronson's violent heroics.

Much of the film's appeal rests with Thai soap-opera actress Panyopas, whose bittersweet charm smoothes over the uglier aspects of Tum's spiral into crime.

Such a compellingly repulsive freak show it's hard to pay attention to any serious concerns.

As movies go, it's far from perfect, but it's always human.

Much of it is inspired, some of it is downright awful, but it does entertain, even as it threatens to drown its generally fine cast in a flood of blood and sundry body parts.

Lighter than helium but irresistible nonetheless.

The result is discomfiting, funny and oddly touching.

For all its talk about sex, incest, insanity and the gory details of the Kennedy assassination, Mark Waters' adaptation of Wendy MacLeod's play doesn't really amount to much more than a lurid, thoroughly enjoyable little pot-boiler.

This sleepyheaded atmosphere, augmented by the languid songs of Lou Reed and Arab Strap, hangs so heavily over the film that the viewer is lulled into a state dangerously close to unconsciousness.

All That Jazz is great-looking but not easy to watch; Fosse's indulgent vision at times approaches sour self-loathing, and nothing like the explicit open-heart surgery had been seen on mainstream American screens, let alone the morbid song-and-dance routines in an operating theater.

Clearly a great event, Forrest Gump is not, however, a great film. It has the form of an epic without real depth or resonance; the trappings of satire without a coherent attitude; and the semblance of historical revisionism without a critical sensibility.

Audiences, especially preteens, will be enchanted by Ella.

Less a history of a specialty that scarcely existed before the '70s -- men habitually donned wigs and dresses to double for women -- than a portrait of two women, one beginning her career and the other in the twilight of hers.

The result is handsome and logical, but missing the spark that would make it thrilling.

Webber's assured directing is evident throughout; in addition to eliciting strong performances from his cast, he always knows when to linger on an image and when to move on.

Many of the sketches show the Pythons' deranged, offbeat humor at its best, but the film begins to pale long before the end and relies on some revolting bits such as a "live" organ transplant and the spectacular (and graphic) explosion of an obese glutton.

Writer-director Henry LeRoy Finch's ripely overwrought exercise in Southern Gothic psychodrama, which happens to unfold in a picturesquely decaying house in Maine.

A slicked up, perfectly watchable update of a movie that was just about perfect on its own bleakly seedy terms.

An allegorical fable of fascism and slavery, CONQUEST OF THE PLANET OF THE APES is the best of the four sequels in the hugely successful APES series, as well as being the darkest and most violent.

The look is rough, but Bujalski's talent is evident.

It lacks the vision, and the fully defined characters, of "Boyz (in the Hood)." Tyrin never becomes more than the sum of his conflicting impulses--he's a composite sample of a social group rather than a fully-fledged individual.

Silly premise allows sophisticated Grant to explode into side-splitting antics, aping the teenaged set. If you adore Grant, you'll enjoy this farce, but Loy's breezy charm is wasted and Temple has reached that age where her preciousness can be irritating to behold.

Lacks the novel's drier-than-dry bite, but compensates with a strong ensemble cast and a series of glamorous party sequences in which the decor has at least as much depth as the guests.

Filmed and released in England in 1976 as FULL CIRCLE, this movie flopped badly and went unreleased Stateside until 1981, when it was unveiled under a new title and still failed to find its audience.

Its high-definition video images -- are coated with a convincing sheen of disgust, and Huston's performance is riveting.

Shattering in its own quiet way.

Director Mike Barker has delivered a film that proves there's life left in the old genre yet, and does so with style, intelligence and surprisingly little violence.

Beautifully edited and, appropriately, the sound is unusually well recorded and produced.

This is less a movie than a lecture. Perhaps Lee simply should have made a documentary.

It's a clever legal thriller, one that thankfully doesn't twist itself into a knots trying to keep audiences off guard.

Can't match the original's shock factor --abortion isn't the taboo subject it once was and the women of Sex and the City have helped make playing the field good, dirty fun.

There's no downside to a reminder that not every beefy, God-talking sheriff is a bigoted cracker, and Kraus' short, no-frills documentary is a model of fly-on-the-wall filmmaking.

Most of the extreme Trek fans it features are obsessed in a big way, and if they were your children you'd probably be thinking therapy.

This savvy adaptation of Robert Ludlum's action-clogged 1980 bestseller benefits from the fact that the filmmakers were smart enough to throw out most of the book's preposterous spills and thrills and concentrate instead on its intriguing central character.

Those bothered by crunching violence and plot lapses won't find much here to enjoy, but action fans will find it delivers just about all they want from a film.

Stylish, exciting and an occasionally poignant sci-fi adventure spectacle.

First-time feature filmmaker Oliver Hirschbiegel maintains a riveting sense of simmering brutality.

If the roller-coaster plot twists lose you, there's always the satisfaction of Douglas's take on a script rife with amusing double entendres.

Less spectacular but more effectively atmospheric than Akira, Ghost in the Shell should gratify anime buffs and may well hook the uninitiated.

Inoffensive and designed to cater to some sort of middle-of-the-road constituency (it's not entirely clear who wants period gangster Westerns to be jolly instead of dark), this film is a huge leap forward for director and cowriter Richard Linklater, and he tackles the genre conventions and period set pieces with eminent grace.

Set in the New York milieus Mazursky knows so well, AN UNMARRIED WOMAN has some great insights and is superbly acted by all involved. The director populates the film with his usual, very real and attractive modern characters, but you may think it cops out in the end.

Anderson is a master of detail, from the film's ubiquitous fish motif to the elaborate carnival set piece that unfolds inside the claustrophobic confines of a spook-house ride called "Route 666."

Weinstock's trump is Moreau, a natural-born charmer.

In the end it's all seductive surface and no substance, but Lough has a bold eye and a vivid sense of uniquely urban beauty.

The film often teeters on the brink of melodrama and is saddled with a sappy original score.

Essentially a feature-length episode of the popular Nickelodeon animated series, this faithful expansion is savvy enough to stay put.

Comprehensive and reverential.

A very funny superhero spoof.

The funny lines fall flat and the relationships and conversations among adult characters are straight out of 1950s sitcoms. Now that's scary.

It can be funny, but the humor is too often based in stereotypical perceptions of Asians (they're short, they're laughably polite, they eat weird food), and Coppola shamelessly invites us to laugh along with Murray's character, who, believe it or not, thinks it's hilarious when his hosts get their "r"s and "l"s switched.

Amid the clutter, Weber -- who narrates but never appears in front of the camera -- occasionally allows a glimpse into his own mind.

For a mountain of muscle [The Rock]'s a surprisingly charming screen presence. And his low-key appeal helps nudge Peter Berg's derivative but good-natured light action picture in the direction of breezy entertainment, rather than painfully noisy macho posturing.

Irving's dead-serious sense of spiritual purpose is here replaced with weepy sentiment and saccharine comedy. But knee-deep in syrup, the film manages to stand on its own -- mainly due to a terrific performance from young Smith and a host of winning supporting players.

Moore's desperate need for attention is irritating, but it's also his strength as a gadfly; it drives him to needle sacred cows and received wisdom that would otherwise go unchallenged.

What the film lacks in general focus it makes up for in compassion, as Corcuera manages to find the seeds of hope in the form of collective action.

If you have the stomach - or the Dramamine - it's a touching, humorous take on Jewish life in contemporary Argentina.

The usual John Grisham legal hokum, tranformed by director James Foley into surprisingly grim and affecting stuff.