Overall, the performances are surprisingly convincing, but the mockumentary elements – feel out of place and the intrusive.

Quite possibly the final word on a much-maligned genre.

While the basics are pretty familiar, director Tom DeSimone does manage to create a few effective moments.

SMOOTH TALK is trying to talk to a 1980s generation by using 1960s dialog. Faithfully adapted from a 1970 Joyce Carol Oates short story, the film's attitudes are better suited to that era than to the present. Dern (daughter of Bruce Dern and Diane Ladd), however, is the one element that makes SMOOTH TALK.

Ironically, the filmmakers seem to think the audience for this movie about super-smart people is super-dumb.

At times it is fascinating, at other times pure Memphis cornpone.

By the time it reaches its fiery finale, the film feels less mythic than self-consciously portentous.

Supposedly a no-holds-barred look at the seamy heroin subculture, The Panic in Needle Park is really little more than a boring romance between two dullards intercut with close-ups of filthy needles being jabbed into scarred veins.

The film's wittiest moment comes before it starts: the familiar MGM lion is replaced by a roaring crocodile when the studio's logo appears.

Director Kershner demonstrates fine visual talents in his use of New York locations.

Just a little shy of twisting the knife that extra twist.

There are about as many laughs in the film's 101 minutes as in a three-minute sketch by the Monty Python troupe, from which much of the cast hails.

If all this were anarchically funny, its shambling idiocy could be forgiven.

While not for every taste, this often very funny collegiate gross-out comedy goes a long way toward restoring the luster of the National Lampoon film franchise.

Once the star of some of the finest movies of the '70s and '80s, Keaton has begun making just this kind of chick-flick comedy with increasing regularity at least since 1996's "The First Wives Club," and it's gotten so she's not even trying to get into character anymore.

Hoping to titillate, while keeping a PG rating, the film opts for tantalizing talk and a constant display of bra-busting females in stiletto heels. The acting here is respectable, but doesn't rise beyond the indifferent script and direction.

This light comedy suffers from a weak script, and although Reynolds manages to hold his own against the brainlessness of the material, he can't rise above it.

A great performance by Barbara Hershey fails to save this poorly directed tale of the supernatural, which was sold as a fictionalized account of an actual paranormal case history.

Scene-stealing cameos by Matt Damon and Lucy Lawless and the very catchy pop song that becomes a leitmotif for Scotty's pain are among its less-raunchy (comparatively speaking) highlights.

Not much to laugh about -- or shout about for that matter.

The film's style is best described as utilitarian, but it gets the job done; the performances range from good to a bit amateurish.

Make no mistake: This slackly paced picture doesn't gel.

Though generally sympathetic, the film manages (without stooping to clichéd moralizing) to suggest that being Ron Jeremy isn't the non-stop paradise his fans imagine.

Harlem Nights isn't the embarrassing vanity production it might have been, there's still not a lot to be said for it.

What chiefly keeps this film on target, though, is Goldblum's marvelously deadpan reaction to all the bloodshed around him. The tone, despite the frequent bloodletting, is light, and the film works better than the script would indicate.

The powerful movement of the movie is exhilarating, but it's all action with little characterization or plot. There is a moral here about mankind's lust for power, but it never clearly emerges from the spectacle of destruction and violence. Ultimately, AKIRA is really all about the animation.

This film is no exception to the rule that philosophical debate seldom spawns compelling cinema.

One-scene guest star Sissy Spacek packs enough genuine madness into her brief screen time to make the surrounding film feel like so much listless play-acting.

If only this amiable shaggy dog story...didn't degenerate into an implausible, second-rate thriller after takeoff.

Sadly, Management is formulaic indie romantic comedy at its core.

Although notorious in South Africa, Stander is little known elsewhere and Canadian director Bronwen Hughes' unsatisfying account of his life and crimes is unlikely to earn him a spot on the outlaw celebrity A-list.

The mise-en-scene is packed with colorful, often shocking images (blood and body wastes are recurring motifs) but orchestrated in a creative delirium.

You have to have a certain affection for any movie in which a stressed-out Mother Nature announces ominously, "Don't mess with me -- I'm pre-El Niño."

Heartfelt but overly familiar film.

While the film does contain a handful of suspenseful sequences, it also suffers from poor pacing and an overall reliance on cliches.

Body of Evidence is at its most hilarious in the deadly earnestness with which it unfolds its ludicrous plot, populated by paper-thin characters who range from the underdeveloped to the simply inane. BODY is oddly conflicted by the sheer unpleasantness of its depiction of sex.

Although it contains funny moments, the deliberately disjointed whole is too cute for its own good.

Nicely directed with a great sense of the oppressiveness of the outdoors. Nature is the villain in this well-filmed second feature by Australian director Eggleston.

Fun if you like this kind of thing and don't expect too much of it.

Hitchcock's handling of the comic material was praised by contemporary critics, and modern-day fans of his work will see many directorial flourishes that hint at the mastery he displays in later films.

Limping along on a scant plot, HOT PURSUIT succeeds largely because of Cusack's handling of his character. Loggia is always a pleasure to watch, even when his part is as mindless as it is here.

This eighth film in the Bond series marks the first appearance of Roger Moore as the superspy. Less macho than Sean Connery's Bond, Moore's fastidiously dressed 007 survives by his wits and injects more humor into the proceedings.

Hartley's score is lovely and he makes excellent use of digital video, but the film's paucity of provocative ideas is its undoing.

Spare, rough around the edges and unsentimentally melancholy.

This package of three short films originally produced for German television is sex-themed without being especially sexy.

Based on the popular television series, Twilight Zone--The Movie is a frightfully lopsided omnibus that begins with two wretched episodes by John Landis and Steven Spielberg and finishes with an engrossing pair by Joe Dante and George Miller.

The result is a glossy, engaging suspense film that jettisons much of its predecessor's sadism and subtext in favor of crowd-pleasing revenge violence.

Ultimately, Schrader pulls us into a mind-over-matter kind of purgatory: Fun and original as his film is, it lacks feeling and heart.

The film's epic look is undermined by his narrow focus; in the end it feels rather thin and less than the sum of its handsome parts.

Screenwriter and co-director West -- who works in gay porn -- evinces an easy and even-handed familiarity with the milieu, and his characters only occasionally lapse into broad caricature.

Though the clash between old-world parents and their American-born children is familiar territory, New Jersey-born, Taiwan-raised director/cowriter Bay-Sa Pan gives the conflict a culturally particular spin and elicits strong performances from her appealing cast.

Surprisingly, some of the best moments come from supermodel Crawford and singer Connick, two acting tyros not generally known for their dramatic skills.

Vampire in Brooklyn, a purported "comic tale of horror and seduction" that is neither funny nor frightening, just unpleasant.

Fraser's goofiness matches that of the animated characters and he cheerfully pokes fun at his celebrity persona, while Elfman is oddly appealing as a strong woman who must seek help from a wascally wabbit.

Without any deeper consideration of the matter, the film is a grueling experience, and 90 minutes is simply far too long to spend in the company of Jesse Power.

What do you get when you cross a serial-killer movie with a sappy father/son drama and give it a time-travel twist?

SON-IN-LAW is like too much of Disney's profligate output, undemanding entertainment for undemanding people.

This gorgeously shot film is a trifle long at just over two hours; much of the racing footage could have been dispensed with, along with the sudsiest of the emotions.

Part The Great Escape, part standard sports movie, Huston's Victory limps along until hitting full stride with a brilliantly staged soccer sequence that provides the film's climax.

Director Harold Ramis, star and co-writer of STRIPES (1981) and GHOST BUSTERS (1984), keeps this film moving and heightens the humor with his inclusion of comic cameos from a variety of actors.

One hopes Koury will return to this interesting project to flush out the bigger story that continues to lurk just below the surface.

There are effective scenes and powerful performances scattered among long sequences in which various members of the family gaze into space as they contemplate the burden of the past, walk aimlessly through Atlanta or have odd encounters with strangers.

Little works in this contrived mess, but by far the worst aspect of it is Roberts' over-the-top histrionics. The film tries hard to create a relationship similar to that of Harvey Keitel and Robert DeNiro in Martin Scorsese's Mean Streets, but the actors' performances are so out of sync that the effort quickly becomes hopeless.

Youngblood is little more than a star vehicle for Lowe, who handles the role well enough.

All's well that ends well, and rest assured, the consciousness-raising lessons are cloaked in gross-out gags.

Hill's action scenes here are surprisingly perfunctory, but his narrative exposition is superb--a model of minimalist restraint in lurid circumstances. Hill also maintains his ability to push his actors in interesting directions here, though Rourke's laconic performance fails to pay off.

The whole enterprise has the sweaty sheen that comes from trying too hard to be cool.

Considering its queasy subject matter, Junior is surprisingly restrained, although it doesn't carry many laughs to full term.

A slow and pensive tone, but for all its lyrical pretensions it lacks real poetry.

This smooth concoction goes down with a pleasant tingle and leaves behind a warm glow.

The film's lingering exploration of their sleek surfaces verges on roboporn.

As overstuffed as a twice-baked potato.

This cautionary tale, complete with the swank cars, cool clothes and depraved babes that inevitably accompany degradation Hollywood style, is based on former sitcom scribe Jerry Stahl's lurid tell-all memoir of his descent into heroin addiction. Under the witty surface, the moral seems to be "The devil made me do it." Even by sitcom standards, that's old.

A rather pleasant period comedy that made quite a sum of money for the studio in its economically weak post-Walt period. A delightful cast of character actors helps the childish story, with Conway and Knotts beginning what would become a somewhat famous, but very simple-minded, film comedy duo.

OUT FOR JUSTICE's only real weakness is Seagal himself. Always an icon rather than an actor, Seagal's face appears puffy and he's developing jowls. This doesn't bode well for his future as an action hero, since looks count; ugly guys are relegated to the heavy roles, and it's hard to imagine Seagal settling for such an ignoble fate.

The plot has lots of holes, but veteran TV director Rod Daniel keeps the proceedings light and lively, and Belushi does a fine job of relating to a dog as a multidimensional character. Jerry Lee--while no Benji in the acting department--is likable and receives ample help from the film's editors.

The general level of mayhem, the sudden transformations that are Plympton's trademark moves and the pervasive irreverence will no doubt delight Plympton's legion of fans; others may find 80 minutes of these shenanigans exhausting.

Though overall an overwhelmingly positive portrayal, the film doesn't ignore the more problematic aspects of Brown's life.

THE MIGHTY DUCKS is harmless enough, but its schematic retread of a screenplay and its lethargic acting detracts from the unassuming, passable entertainment it might have been.

Who these brave men were and why they fought disappears under the usual clichés, while the astounding acts of courage that occurred at Ia Drang are lost to the dust and din.

It's a bit of 60s idealism wedged in what basically looks like a hip-hop music video.

The obsessive lust that drives Higgins to horrific extremes in Hellraiser was almost enough to carry that film, but Hellbound has no such straw to cling to, and the film collapses into a bloody mess of bravura set pieces that never add up to a satisfying whole.

The beautiful ice-blue landscapes are really the only reason to sit through this rambling and rather silly first feature by writer-director Sue Clayton.

A deadpan satire of the espionage film that explores the accepted logic forming the basis of the genre. Although not as interesting as some of Penn's other genre experiments, TARGET is worth seeing if only for the inspired teaming of Hackman and Dillon.

An enjoyable, low-key film, Something Special! boasts some fine acting from its teenage cast.

A bleak, often repugnant rumination on the harsh realities of urban life, Driller Killer will offend tender sensibilities. But Ferrara is already a distinctive and conscientious talent behind the camera, unmistakably concerned with more than gore-filled exploitation.

Katey and Javier's dramatically expedient relationship is nowhere near as interesting as the Cuban Revolution, which is relegated to window dressing.

This cream puff of a romantic comedy is sweet enough, but lack of substance makes it deeply unsatisfying.

The greatest mystery, though, is how this thoroughly trashy picture wound up opening theatrically, rather than going direct to video.

Simply a series of set pieces designed to insure Angelina Jolie's status as action-babe pin-up.

The main problem is Marcore, who is almost too gawky to be believed.

The perky Aniston is both unflatteringly photographed and utterly unconvincing in the pivotal role of Lucinda, and overall the film has the oddly disconnected quality of '70s Euro-thrillers whose international casts spoke different languages on the set and were dubbed into conformity.

Most of the film's imagination and energy seem to have gone into the clever casting and flamboyant costume and set design.

Despite Jack Nicholson's galvanizing portrayal, Hoffa is a cold, remote, neo-religious pageant.

Although billed as a sci-fi film, HARDWARE is unquestionably a horror. In his calculated enthusiasm to shock, first-time writer-director Richard Stanley has filled the screen with gratuitous violence and psychosexual perversion but failed to present a plausible, reasonably coherent plot.

Less pretentious than John Milius' Big Wednesday, North Shore is pleasant enough but not very engaging.

Director Tim Burton and his screenwriters bring a heavy-handed, plodding realism to bear on what should be pop-mythic material.

An intriguing, suspenseful story is somewhat hampered by a dull cast.