While not entirely successful, Mortal Thoughts is surprisingly compelling. Headly and Moore go all-out with their working-girl mannerisms, but their friendship rings true and their ill-considered decisions are made strangely believable by their desperation.

Watching this thinly written, intellectualized caper film, one realizes how far downhill we've come since Ernst Lubitsch's Trouble in Paradise or even Jules Dassin's Topkapi. If Object of Beauty were to have worked as a comedy of manners, it would have needed a director with some champagne in his bloodstream and a cast with some insouciance in their bones.

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.

Haynes's feature debut, is an exercise in cinema of ideas that, while audacious and occasionally compelling, is ultimately less than the sum of its parts.

Unfortunately, Defending Your Life suffers from a slushy-headed pop fever.

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

CAREER OPPORTUNITIES is an entertaining film with interesting characters the viewer can actually care about.

A reasonably entertaining blend of Three Stooges and Bugs Bunny, using gracefully choreographed martial-arts slapstick without any infantile sound effects.

The work of Hackman and Mastrantonio keeps the action afloat and more credible than it deserves to be.

Producer Irwin Winkler's directorial debut is a well-intentioned history lesson that may play like a clear-eyed relevation for the last person in the world not yet aware of the period of the Hollywood blacklist. For everyone else, Guilty By Suspicion is a mediocre, pointless non-examination of a paranoid, hysterical historical tragedy.

It's not perfect, but PERFECT WEAPON at least furnishes action aficionados with a hero who has a life beyond the floormat of a kung fu school. Speakman may augur a new breed of action hero--a 90s kind of fella who's survived both martial arts classes and sensitivity training sessions. Men will be enthusiastic over his fast footwork; women will be impressed by his ability to carry on an intelligent conversation.

As with many Hollywood films before it, TRUE COLORS is a film with no discernable reason for existence, apart from the sheer joy of the filmmaking process itself. Far from being its own reward, however, the film is a dull, unreasonable cypher.

The film's sense of humor is relentlessly smutty. Rifkin attempts to wring laughs from gross food, breasts, garbage and sex with fat women. He is largely unsuccessful.

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

Despite its preachiness, we all know New Jack City is making the right statement on drugs, racism, the system, etc. But the fact is it's not very good.

Most certainly, the practice of martial arts is more rigorous than the mise en scene displayed in American Ninja 4: The Annihilation would indicate. Indeed, any term denoting film structure hardly applies to this cinematic hash.

By recreating things too well, the film itself becomes as boring, indulgent and over-stuffed as its hero.

The movie almost seems the same as the Bride herself--begun with all the correct parts, but eventually self-destructing. Before it falls apart, however, The Bride of Re-Animator does still have time for a number of clever, outrageous bits.

One of the worst attempts at comedy ever filmed.

CADENCE is watchable while it lasts, with a generous leavening of humor, but the film keeps throwing emotional punches that never quite connect.

Hopkins plays the cannibalistic doctor with a quiet, controlled erudition, lacing his performance with moments of black humor. His Lecter is a sort of satanic Sherlock Holmes whose spasms of violence are all the more terrifying because they erupt from beneath such an intelligent and refined mask.

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

Sleeping With The Enemy teeters constantly on the verge of silliness but director Joseph Ruben keeps the cornball melodrama scaled down to a pleasant lull.

If you want to stoke children's imaginations you've got to offer them something more inspiring and graceful than this film, which could give video games a good reputation.

The puppets are depicted simply but effectively, mixing real puppets, undersized actors in costumes, and stop-motion animation. Richard Band's haunting, waltz-timed theme music is back, and visuals expert David Allen, who animated the puppets in the first film, steps behind the cameras here for a somewhat wobbly job of directing.

POPCORN seems to be a case of too many ideas; the basic story could probably have made a very effective short. The acting in the film varies greatly, and some mediocre dubbing adds to the amateur feel.

Zeffirelli's production is neither high art nor lowbrow pandering, but something in between.

This has got to be the first time in history that a boy-and-his-dog love story was ruined by having no chemistry between the romantic leads! Hawke doesn't even seem comfortable with the dog. If you want to see a great boy-and-his-dog story, check out Lassie Come Home.

Peter Weir's talent, so evident in his Australian work, remained dormant here, but Depardieu's lively performance is a redeeming factor.

Although it's possible to enjoy isolated sequences of LIONHEART, this is not one of martial arts superstar Jean-Claude Van Damme's better kick-ass vehicles. Sleekly produced and densely plotted, it lacks the excitement of the earlier Van Damme flicks which had a less calculated aura about them.

Beyond the skillful lensing of snow-covered mountain locations and interesting sports photography, SKI SCHOOL is a slow-moving picture which doesn't have much to offer. David Mitchell has written a screenplay which leaves his characters underdeveloped and therefore hard to identify or sympathize with. And the female characters, not unsurprisingly, are there only as bimbos or sexual objects.

By enlisting jingoism and reducing an entire culture to caricature, Not Without My Daughter defeats any progressive point it may have intended to make.

Directed by Steve Miner, who got his start working on the Friday the 13th films, Warlock aspires to more than many genre movies, though it actually achieves very little.

One of the most frustrating films of 1990, an epic without epic scope, a muted, strained, unnatural affair that never comes into dramatic focus.

Kindergarten Cop is actually fairly entertaining, buoyed by Schwarzenegger's self-deprecating charm and easy chemistry with his capable costar, Pamela Reed, and the hammiest bunch of tykes ever assembled for a movie.

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

It's a great-looking film with a great-looking cast, it had some of Hollywood's top talent behind the cameras, and a budget of more than $45 million, but it lacks bite and conviction and utterly failed to strike a single spark, much less catch fire.

A finely crafted and beautifully acted adaptation of John Le Carre's glasnost-era spy thriller that never quite gets as gripping as it should.

The script pushes all the expected buttons at all the expected moments, leaving you wondering what could have been achieved with a more rigorous, unsentimental approach.

Sadly, the film had all the elements to be a very captivating experience, but it fails to bring those elements together into a strong whole.

The theme--that just beyond the edge of the perfectly normal lies the truly bizarre--is realized with intelligence and visual flair.

The film offers some disturbingly misogynist elements as well as a healthy dose of crushing violence. Still, those quibbles aside, this is a fun movie and a must-see for Eastwood fans.

Westlake's screenplay has the right combination of vivid characters, mordant wit and avaricious savagery which distinguishes the best noir.

A virtuoso update. Gerard Depardieu's Cyrano is nothing short of magnificent.

In the Kill the Bitch tradition of FATAL ATTRACTION, this adaptation of Stephen King's misogynist fable about a serious (male) author trapped by his own frivolous (female) commercial creation isn't quite satisfying either as a flat-out horror screamer or a psychological thriller.

Unfortunately, EATING lacks a main plot or any truly involving developments, and the film, after a promising beginning, loses steam.

What fills the screen is not heightened melodrama, but a series of stark, sometimes painfully poignant vignettes that reflect the oppressive stasis of their lives.

The film's energy and style are enough to recommend it. Lovers of the original should be pleased with this effort, as should most fans of the genre.

While it's not a top-drawer romantic comedy, this is certainly a worthy sequel to Three Men and a Baby.

For the most part, the "Rocky" pictures have been outstanding entertainments, beautifully crafted and executed, and Rocky V is an important and worthwhile addition to the series.

The first half of Home Alone features the sugar-coated sentimentality that can usually be found in a Hughes film, while the second half is full of unanticipated sadism.

The film suffers from some action and plotting that is questionable in a children's film. The villain is far too malignant, the young vigilante hero seems to be a kiddie Rambo, and some of the action is quite violent, if not tasteless.

A western for people who are completely ignorant about the genre. Costner's direction is barely competent and frequently clumsy.

The Kemps make THE KRAYS worth watching. And they're supported by a first-rate cast of female monsters and victims, and some compelling seedy bits by strong character actors.

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

Truly frightening and visually unique, this messy, challenging film is anchored by Tim Robbins' remarkable performance.

When Prince really performs on screen, he's terrific. If he'd take some acting lessons and team with a competent scriptwriter and director, he might be capable of creating a first-rate musical.

The film had the calculated feel of a movie made simply because the title was guaranteed to pull in audiences on opening weekend. Sadly, it's the kind of effort that gives horror films a bad name.

The primary difference between the original and the remake is that the latter is in color, though a deliberately subdued color. In addition, the zombies created by Everett Burrell and John Vulich, are far more elaborate than those in the first film.

Another failed attempt to make Tom Selleck a movie star, this is a handsomely mounted but vapid western that lumbers across the screen for two hours, providing little entertainment.

Allen Daviau's photography is exceptional; Quinn, Mueller-Stahl, and Plowright give commendable performances. Ultimately, though, Levinson's very personal project never acquires a personality of its own.

Irons's canny performance dominates the film. He plays the role with apparent frankness and dignity rather than melodramatic villainy.

Part of the problem is its length; at two hours and ten minutes it meanders rather than building up a head of steam and barreling straight through logic and plausibility on the way to Hell.

WELCOME HOME ROXY CARMICHAEL is less a movie than it is an example of what the studios refer to as "product," the kind of toothless comedy that features big stars in frenetic and forgettable farces.

To a post-Vietnam War generation put off by militarism, David Puttnam's inspiring account of the final and most-harrowing WWII mission of the B-17 bomber The Memphis Belle may seem hopelessly dated, but older viewers are likely to find much to enjoy in the film.

Mr. Destiny is by no means a good movie, but James Belushi is unquestionably a good actor, and his portrayal of Larry Burrows almost makes the film worth watching.

Any attempt to obscure the names of those involved in the making of this fiasco can only be construed as an act of mercy. Troll 2 is really as bad as they come.

It takes place in an artificial world constructed largely from the mythology of other movies, and, though it's both seamless and stylish, some find it a little too self-conscious for its own good.

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.

Kaufman tries to project a kind of professorial sobriety, hoping his film will seem classy and serious instead of raunchy. We think it could've used more raunch, and we're sure Henry Miller (whose favorite film was L'AGE D'OR) would have agreed.

Taken as a whole, the film is dragged down by the same old incoherent plotting and characters, driven by the same old half-baked machismo and mealy-mouthed misogyny that have come to define Cimino the auteur. As a result, and despite the efforts of Rogers and Hopkins, Desperate Hours is more than a title; it's a description of a movie-going experience.

Jane Campion has established a reputation for making slightly off-center films in which regular folks get glimpses of the darkness that lurks beneath the surfaces of their lives. An admirer of Frame's novels since she was a teenager, Campion builds her film around a heroine who defies Hollywood conventions; she's not beautiful or sexy or sophisticated, and her adventures are mostly intellectual.

Alternately grim, playful, and gripping, PACIFIC HEIGHTS breathes new life into what was becoming a moribund genre.

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

To his credit, writer-cinematographer-director Peter Hyams (RUNNING SCARED) doesn't pretend he's reinventing the wheel here--he just sees to it that all the pieces are in place and that there aren't too many opportunities for the premise to trip over its own implausibilities.

Visually, State of Grace joins Miller's Crossing as one of the best-looking movies in ages. But, as it nears its bloody ending, the film just gets dumber and dumber.

Although Death Warrant resorts to several familiar plot devices, its storyline is a little more complex than those of most films of this genre. Moreover, secondary characters like Hawkins and Priest are believable and likable enough that we care what happens to 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.

The only really good thing that can be said about REPOSSESSED is that it makes Exorcist II look like a classic. To hell with it.

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.

Postcards is a mixed bag. There are a number of entertaining moments; however, potentially rich characters and situations wither from lack of development for the sake of the central relationship, which is never wholly convincing.

Scorsese's rich tapestry is both broader in scope and more detailed than a mere recounting of the events in the trio's life of crime.

For Western viewers unfamiliar with Hong Kong gangster films, there's no better introduction.

Director James Foley and cinematographer Mark Plummer deftly conjure the sense of stifling containment that drives these characters to drink or sin, but Robert Redlin's screenplay fails to fully animate their personalities. Patric gives a tremendous, smoldering performance, but Ward fails to convey the mysterious radiance of a convincing femme fatale. Dern rounds out the unappetizing triangle with an unpleasant performance, proving himself a worthy contender in the Dennis Hopper/Harry Dean Stanton creepstakes.

Despite its ample flaws, Men at Work is never boring and often is a lot of fun; however, it would have benefitted from the pruning of a few of its misfired visual gags, particularly those involving excrement.

The Witches weaves many classic childhood fears into its entertaining--and genuinely eerie--action.

Bad teen film unredeemed by aspirations toward significance.

Exorcist III may not have the visceral impact of the first film, but it gives viewers far more than they had any reason to expect.

The real problem with Taking Care of Business is that it doesn't even get much mileage out of what it does have going for it. Grodin and Belushi have both done their best work in buddy-buddy pairings (Midnight Run and Red Heat, respectively), but while the two demonstrate some comedy chemistry here, they aren't brought together onscreen until the film is virtually over.

A wacky, occasionally inventive road movie that fails to display the vision or the dark intensity of director Lynch's earlier work.

Air America comes on like a noisy, overproduced sitcom pilot.

What it lacks are the dramatic underpinnings and emotional core that made the original film an engrossing mystery as well as a cinema classic.

The look is overpowering enough to delay--though not forever--examination of the plot, which has to pull a fast one at every turn to keep moving and which eventually makes a mockery of plausibility.

Full of wonderful music, grand visuals, and melodramatic plot twists, the movie is laced with very funny moments, as well as interesting insights into the world of jazz and the plight of the dedicated musician.

Besides featuring some of the same actors in the same roles, what this six-gun sequel has in common with Young Guns is that it is wholly unmemorable.

If they gave an Oscar for the year's most claustrophobic film, Presumed Innocent could have won it in a walk. Everything about this film is as cramped, clenched, and constricted as Harrison Ford's face, which looks like a tightly balled-up fist here.

The Unbelievable Truth captivates with its committedly off-center vision of suburban angst.

There's not much to THE FRESHMAN beyond the spectacle of Brando gently spoofing his most famous role, but that's a pretty sizeable asset. Broderick is his usual charming self, and there are occasional moments of inspired whimsy or absurdity: Brando on ice skates, Bert Parks delivering a rousing rendition of Bob Dylan's "Maggie's Farm."