Each character weighs the dilemma, and each has at least one breast-beating soliloquy on the subject, as COCOON II goes for poignancy in attempting to deal with the weighty issues raised in its funnier, more-upbeat predecessor. It's a commendable effort, but the result is a pretty dreary movie.

Basically a formula film with all the usual car chases, knock-downs, booby traps, etc. If you like John Wayne, you'll love Brannigan. If you just think he is...well, only all right, you'll be better off reading a book. This is not one of the Duke's best.

A stew of silliness that's so ridiculous it's almost entertaining. Almost.

This is a surprisingly heartfelt film from Marin, miles away from the mindless drug humor that infected his efforts with Tommy Chong. The film offers some genuinely tender moments as Marin uses Robles situation to explore the plight of Mexicans who long for a better life.

Bordering on parody, but too sleazy to be very funny, this mad slasher film involves a cleaver-wielding psycho who lurks in the halls of a Boston university.

This film is pure, empty (if gorgeous) spectacle, and the decision to loose the tongues of the ape planet's humans (they were mute in the original) undermines the contrast that lies at the heart of the story's power.

Fun without ever being particularly funny, this one-joke comedy-of-bad-manners features a hero who will either tickle your funny bone or make you vaguely uncomfortable.

Mitchum gives a surprisingly strong performance as a character-type he normally steered away from.

Ukraine-born, American-based filmmaker Andrei Zagdansky's deeply frustrating "documentary essay" examines the Orange Revolution.

This modest picture is distinguished by some marvelously bitchy dialogue.

What makes the film more interesting than it might have been, however, is the warm relationship between Glenn and Peter.

A much gentler follow-up to the original film, Any Which Way You Can takes the time to humanize the characters, and shows them as passionate human beings instead of the fighting machines they were in the first film. Among the film's many funny moments is a parallel seduction sequence showing Philo and Lynne in one motel room, while Clyde puts the moves on a female orangutan next door.

A must-see for martial arts enthusiasts.

Only McKellan seems to understand the profound silliness of the film in which he finds himself, and he camps it up accordingly.

The picture is very talky, and the gags all fall flat. Director Gilbert Cates was responsible for a number of fine and sensitive films, including I Never Sang for my Father, but stumbles here.

First and foremost a showcase for the latest developments in motion-capture and 3-D technology.

Undeniably entertaining.

Although director Bob Radler gums up the fight scenes with lots of unnecessary slo-mo, and the film follows its formula mechanically, this is a moderately serviceable action yarn.

Carpenter's first directorial effort, an intermittently hilarious satire on 2001--A SPACE ODYSSEY. Carpenter's spaceship is piloted by four goofy astronauts who live like slobs and are bored out of their skulls by their long, uneventful mission.

Feels soft without being especially affectionate, and only sporadically funny.

It's undone by a murky palette, silly horror-movie cliches, dumb dialogue and a confusing climactic sequence.

So low-key that it verges on unconsciousness.

The impulses that produced this project, which brings together three short, English-language films by African female filmmakers into a feature-film package introduced by rap icon Queen Latifah, are commendable, but the results are uneven.

Has a certain weird charm, but it's too seamy for children and too simplistic played for adults.

While Jones' direction is nothing special, the script by Brown does have its share of male ego-deflating laughs--mainly some obvious Freudian jokes--and actually takes some time to develop the victims as characters instead of mere gore-fodder.

There's tons of professionalism in He's Just Not That Into You, but it lacks passion -- they should have called it "Like, Actually."

The politics get pretty short shrift, but cigarettes and liquor are everywhere.

Fans of unashamedly low-brow comedies may well be amused by the eccentricities of Cabin Boy, but more conventional viewers should probably beware.

With its endless string of good-naturedly cheap jokes and its comic-book style, The Return of Swamp Thing is good campy fun, spoofing its horror premise effectively.

There are two kinds of police officers in David Ayers and James Ellroy's convoluted, ultraviolent tale of corruption within the LAPD: dirty cops and dirtier ones.

Though inspired by Weiland's own childhood, the film's plot sticks close to the underdog's coming-of-age formula and is marred by young Bernie's gratingly self-pitying voice-over.

Is it funny? Sporadically.

As in BASKET CASE, director Henenlotter combines some disturbing gore with an offbeat sense of humor that makes the entire disgusting exercise a bit more palatable.

The resulting awkward, earthbound mishmash thoroughly overshadows Judd and Kline's authentically moving performances.

It's ultimately hard to care deeply about a silly, sheltered girl-woman who's taking an inordinately long time to learn that money can't buy happiness.

Through Carax's eyes, even squalor looks fabulous.

A sober, earnest drama about child abuse.

Unfortunately, the emotionally resonant moments between Murphy and Fanning are few and far between; the rest of the film relies on goofy physical comedy -- Murphy takes more pratfalls that any young woman should have to.

Hudson and Wilson share a natural and easy chemistry that helps compensate for the Cuban-mobster subplot.

Adds little to the annals of werewolf lore. But it's briskly paced and features a couple of clever twists on genre conventions.

Maybe the life was edited out of it in the two years between shooting and release, or maybe Dominik was simply overwhelmed by the outsized myths of the West, but the film only comes to life after James' death, when Ford quite literally takes center stage.

The movie is a good idea, but a good idea does not always result in a good movie. The picture was miscast. Hutton is just too young to be believable as a man of science.

Unlike Woody Allen's New York City, which becomes a staging area for character angst and transformation, Martin's L.A. stifles the characters.

This is the one that started it all and it is also one of the weakest of the "Road" pictures.

Overall it's a colorful, diverting cautionary tale.

This amiable comedy has laughs, but can't compete with the warmth and charm of the original.

Yet another variation on the theme of Ambrose Bierce's "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge." If you've read the short story, you'll see where things are going in no time flat; if you haven't and want to be surprised, don't look it up.

There are some vicious highlights, but the acting is wildly variable, and the film manages to be both overwrought and dull.

Glacially slow going.

The film doesn't really go anywhere, other than outside for endless games of basketball, and the group-therapy environment allows for far too many young-actor monologues.

Connery and Boyle are fine, but the wholesale lifting of High Noon's plot (there's even an on-screen digital readout periodically displayed, counting down the minutes until the big confrontation) certainly undermines interest. 

The detatched, fly-on-the-wall perspective, however, offers little insight into the strange gender game that's played out in the dark safety of the porn theater.

Though too long by a good half hour, Lee's latest film packs a genuine emotional punch, largely because its polemical agenda doesn't entirely eclipse the drama.

Equal parts soap drama and ham-fisted morality tale.

Nicely shot with a good youthful cast.

If you're a Martin fan, you'll love All of Me; if you aren't, there's still enough fun in spots to make it worth your time.

Deeply adolescent; its impact is visceral rather than intellectual.

A pretty little package whose perfect, fairy-tale ending is just a little too neat, the film's colorful wrapping includes veteran actress Carol Kane's bizarre but enjoyable performance as the school's uptight drama teacher.

Badly dated and clumsily allegorical, The Omega Man has some fairly interesting moments, the most memorable being the view of a devastated, empty downtown Los Angeles.

The film's bizarreness pales next to that of little-known exploitation film "Sonny Boy" (1990), which weaves similar material into something authentically nightmarish.

Hemorrhaging enthusiasm, ruthlessly violent, and light-headed with its own hard-core grunge worldview, LOVE AND A .45 unmistakably positions director Carty Talkington among the many pretenders to Tarantino's throne.

Lacks the real emotional wallop these two fine actresses...seem ready to provide.

Fun for a while, but soon turns grating before ending on a startlingly tragic note.

Fans of 50 Cent, whose own endlessly exploited past keeps him surrounded by Kevlar and bodyguards, will probably see the film for what it is -- a weak, watered roman à clef -- while admirers of Irish director Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In America) will marvel that he had anything to do with such a trite variation on the venerable "Star is Born" scenario.

Though the film ends on a surprising and genuinely magical note, it takes its own sweet time getting there; some viewers will have lost patience before the denouement arrives.

The comedy is broad, cartoonish, and quite funny in a faux "Little Rascals" manner. The movie is almost completely derivative, but that's part of the fun.

Should be shown in theaters that offer seats with tissue dispensers built right into the arm rests.

A welcome alternative to such hyperkinetic drivel as Pokémon.

Fairly effective action-horror film.

This is not a film---it's a deal, decorated with extensive publicity, but weighed down by listless direction and lots of nasal talk, talk, talk.

This flawed but interesting Freudian melodrama spends about 70 minutes making points and the last 30 minutes losing them.

White Hunter is an ambitious and intriguing project that never amounts to anything more than the sum of its parts--a trait shared by many of Eastwood's other major project as an independent filmmaker, Bird.

There are a few inspired set-pieces -- Ruber's creation of a mechanical army is really quite something -- and the score by David Foster and Carol Bayer Sager is generally fine. But overall, this is a bloodless entry into an already highly formulaic genre.

Empty shortening of Irving's book reaches for profundity, and comes up courageous but brainless.

Uncomfortable as the film is, it's a beautiful, sensuous experience.

Filled with forced yuletide cheer and mixed messages about the true meaning of Christmas, this loud and obnoxious holiday comedy boasts a fine cast and little else.

In this slight film about two boys about to be drafted into WWII, everyone tries hard, but the movie is essentially superficial and has difficulty sustaining audience interest.

The notorious action star keeps his bombastic persona remarkably reeled in, and the resulting film is earnest, somber, and extremely modest -- almost to a fault.

Ford is the problem: He looks great for his age (56, to Heche's 29), but oozes a stolid gloom that snuffs out those sparks long before they can set the lush scenery on fire. In a classic screwball comedy, he'd be Ralph Bellamy.

It's an amiable, middle-class coming of age story, soft and sweet and ultimately a bit inconsequential.

Sassone's hit-and-miss ethnic comedy is actually a retelling of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, with the Italian neighborhood of South Yonkers, N.Y., standing in for Verona.

Ultimately aimed at a Christian audience looking for genre entertainment with a certain sense of propriety (which partly translates into there being no murders), the film tries to serve two masters and doesn't quite deliver for either.

The title truly lives up to the character.

What really lessens SADDLES is that its intentions aren't clear. Its humor provoked no thinking; insensitive moviegoers assumed the racial put-downs and cowboy crudeness were deliberate. The public loved the film--it stands as the highest grossing western in history--$45 million plus! But they loved it for all the wrong reasons.

Lots of laughs; some fine darts tossed at fascism, southern California customs, and the USA in general; a tongue firmly embedded in the cheek; and a fairly good score all add up to make this a sleeper...If your sense of humor has the slightest warp in it, you may thoroughly enjoy SURF NAZIS MUST DIE.

Actor-turned-director Campbell Scott handles this enigmatic science fiction mystery with such gloomy restraint that it barely moves. That said, it never panders to audience expectations and is exceptionally well acted. Bill Tyler.

Bresson's vision of the miseries of 15th century life -- which was undeniably nasty, brutish and short -- comes dangerously close to the comic squalor of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

The set-up revolves around a draggy love triangle, while the climax -- slo-mo leap through the air and all -- could have come out of any direct-to-video action flick.

Most of the gags recycle the same tired old romantic comedy schtick, with special effects.

Everything has a fusty, embalmed quality: Whatever gave the novel its vitality has been smothered.

A slick, largely empty visual exercise with vague thematic overtones about a clash between American and European culture. The Deneuve/Sarandon sex scene, however, is not to be missed by fans of either actress.

Joan Crawford (Dunaway, in a remarkable makeup job) comes off as a cartoon monster in this over-the-top biopic, which blithely mixes fact, legend, and--especially--elements of Crawford's unique screen persona.

Director John N. Smith, who helmed last year's masterly "The Boys of St. Vincent", is reduced to carrying Michelle Pfeiffer's baggage in this assembly-line star vehicle.

Goofy, raunchy and very Japanese, Miike's film will probably play best to fanboys who love "Power Rangers" and "Ultraman" -- and there are plenty of them to go around.

The film is at odds with itself, trying to present transgendered characters as resourceful and tough as nails while the plot habitually reduces them to traumatized masochists and helpless victims.

Overall it's a funny film, but parents should decide if the anti-gay and misogynist elements are worth the laughs.

She's an adventurous, occasionally reckless filmmaker who deploys a full arsenal of cinematic flourishes, but Lemmons' lack of restraint gets in the way of her storytelling.

A film for fans of this alternate universe of movies that flourished as soon as the 1934 Production Code effectively excised most prurient, violent and otherwise titillating material from Hollywood films and withered in the '70s as mainstream movies finally caught up with the indies.