Overall, it's an interesting experiment, but the idea is stronger than the end result.

Silver Streak is a throwback to the screwball comedies of the 1930s but with none of the verve or the motivation needed to get an audience to swallow the shenanigans.

This film, with a whole new cast of miscasts, is even more mindless than its predecessor.

The picture is long, beautiful, and dull.

Baker stars as real-life Tennessee sheriff Buford Pusser, whose one-man battle against gambling, moonshine whiskey, and prostitution in his county elevated him to folk-hero stature in three movies.

The quintessential cotton candy movie: It's pleasant, brightly colored and the minute it's done it's as though it were never there.

Courtroom dramas that favor the courtroom over the drama are always in danger of eye-glazing dullness.

A nicely told, occasionally highly emotional story, but the main purpose of the film seems to be to give writer-director Elia Kazan an excuse to pat himself on the back.

The film's conceits grow thin and von Trier's mocking, hectoring tone tiresome.

One of the most enjoyable films of the summer, Critters harks back to the low-budget science fiction films of the 1950s and balances the thrills with heavy doses of humor.

The script, based on a Dark Horse comic-book series, is hugely predictable, but the robot effects by veteran Phil Tippett are nastily entertaining.

Violent tale of a man who comes into a town run by rival gangs--this time it's the Ku Klux Klan and Mexican bandits.

The ending doesn't really work, and Pla tends to overplay what's already a larger-than-life character, but Neron is perfect as the striking and cucumber-cool countess.

The results isn't especially engaging, despite a quietly charismatic performance by Weiss, a relative newcomer who holds his own against far more experienced actors.

It's often a pleasant diversion, and much more entertaining than LOOK WHO'S TALKING 2, which over-extended the talking baby tricks.

It's hard to imagine anyone who isn't familiar with Graham and her place in 20th-century dance history getting drawn into Move and Herrmann's hall of Martha mirrors, but for the right viewer it's a fascinating exercise in self-reflexive mythmaking.

The gadgets are up to the usual Bond standards, but fancy effects do not a movie make, and 007 is less satisfying floating around in space than when his feet are more or less firmly planted on the ground.

A throwback to the slickly entertaining melodramas of Hollywood's golden age.

Those who lived through the 1960s will enjoy this more than those who haven't, but in the final analysis, Godspell is generally a disappointing film version of a small musical that rocked audiences with its fervor.

Screenwriter Chris ver Weil's directing debut is good-natured and never dull, but its virtues are small and easily overshadowed by its predictability. It's the kind of film that plays better on video than in theaters.

Despite a predictable plot and an abundance of stereotypes--the product of a surprisingly clunky script by Barry Levinson and Valerie Curtin--this is a well-meaning film with strong performances all around.

It's not a cheap rip-off -- it's a credible sequel to a horror classic, and a sad reminder that some things never change.

Stylish but shallow story.

The puzzle pieces are all there. But when you put them all together, the result is a bit of a gyp — neat but utterly forgettable.

This tale of crime and punishment is wrapped in a veneer of flashy attitude but founders on mundane details.

Fast-paced, fully aware of its own foolishness, and with lively dance sequences, BREAKIN' 2 is an enjoyable diversion for those who like breakdancing.

But while the material is interesting, it's not substantial enough to sustain a feature-length treatment.

A simple story is lost in the film's complex structure, and only when O'Neal and Julia are on screen together does this directorial debut of cinematographer Caleb Deschanel come to life.

Director Jeff Renfroe and screenwriter Andrew Joiner's flashy psychological thriller wants to say something important about the dangers of a fear-mongering media and resultant ethnic profiling in an age of terrorism, but their warnings are undone by a tricky plot that tries to have it both ways while leaving the audience arguing among themselves as to what it all means.

Clearly, neither screenwriter Randall Wallace nor director Michael Bay ever met a cliche he didn't embrace.

The thin story line of NEPTUNE'S DAUGHTER revolves around swimming star Esther Williams as Eve Barrett, a partner in a bathing suit company (with Keenan Wynn), who must continually fight off the advances of millionaire playboy Jose O'Rourke (Ricardo Montalban).

Our favorite parts, though, were the moments of unintentional humor, mostly courtesy of Ms. Archer. Her insufferably goody-goody performance makes you wish Glenn Close would show up brandishing a kitchen knife.

The film's woozy, digital-video gorgeousness is undeniable, and the glittering shots from atop the Brooklyn Bridge could make a tough guy weep.

It's all wonderfully trashy fun, but the good times come to an abrupt halt when the filmmakers, hoping to capitalize on the starlet's sensational death in 1967, cheaply dramatize the car crash that took the lives of Mansfield, her driver, her friend and lawyer, and Choo Choo.

One youngster -- even a youngster as talented as Rossum -- can't transform a mess of clichés into a little gem.

Sex and psychosis mix in this nice looking, Super-8 psychodrama from Patrick McGuinn, the son of former-Byrd Roger McGuinn.

A worthy successor to the original movie, NIGHTMARE PART 2 is surprisingly optimistic and moral. The power of love and kindness wins out over evil and violence--something not often seen in modern horror films.

Like its star, Howard's movie is affable, but has limited range.

DeMeo is not without talent; he just needs better material.

Though apparently conceived as a revisionist Western, Tombstone falls prey to the cliches of the genre, and its last third is a muddle.

Depending on your level of Elvis fandom, you'll either find this a typically fluffy Presley vehicle with mainly forgettable tunes--save the hit I Can't Help Falling in Love--or none of that will matter.

Under the veneer of hip lies a bland romantic comedy wrapped in a layer of less-than-biting lifestyle satire, whose single most authentic moment involves an old woman and her scruffy mutt Buddy. Not cool.

Wang's film doesn't really have anything more to say about power, manipulation and the wild unpredictability of sexual energy than "Last Tango" did 30 years ago.

Whip together TV's The Invaders and V. Fold in cult classic Enemy From Space and season with a dash of Species. The yield: an agreeable cocktail of paranoid sci-fi conventions that bubbles along energetically, despite surprisingly low-tech trappings

Benigni wants to tell a poignant fable rooted in the love between a father and son, but everything hinges on whether one finds his gags inspired or tasteless. Humor can only save some of us.

A fairly clever sendup of both heavy-metal music and the paranoid parental-action groups that want it banned.

It was the first time that homosexuality and cannibalism had ever been handled by a mainstream studio as a commercial venture. Let's hope that it remains the last time those two practices will be presented in tandem.

Like a delicious pasta salad, ruined with intermittent slabs of Velveeta cheese.

This satirical attack on Hollywood and the film industry, however, lacks the biting edge and fresh characters necessary to make it work.

This is first Lee's first attempt at a war epic, but it feels like it's his very first film: What should have been an eloquent answer to the likes of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood -- with whom Lee justly took to task over the total absence of any black soldiers in "The Flags Of Our Fathers" -- is instead a patchy war-time drama.

Broomfield's film is typically self-aggrandizing but filled with unsettling moments.

The script is full of inconsistencies, and the humor is strictly of the New York nebbish school, but it's well worth checking out.

Dawson actually delivers the film's most persuasive performance.

But clichéd rapid-fire editing and cheap-looking digital-image manipulation drain away every ounce of atmosphere, and overexplanation blows what could have been a darkly ambiguous ending.

Though unpolished and formulaic, this tribute to the power of faith and music benefits from the contributions of musicians Tamyra Gray, a first-generation American Idol contestant who plays D.T.'s wholesome love interest; Grammy winner Kirk Franklin, who contributed six songs — three original — to the rousing soundtrack; and faith-based singers Yolanda Adams, Martha Munizzi, Fred Hammond (who also executive produced) and Delores Winans.

It's tremendously clever, but ultimately pointless.

What's most disappointing is the thoroughly cliched story.

The film is pleasant but too hackneyed and heavy-handed to work well.

Ultimately, the more intensely you buy into the notion that golf is a complex metaphor for the human condition, the more susceptible you'll be to the film's insipid blandishments.

Cassavetes' film is unusually well-acted and lovely to look at, but his wholehearted embrace of saccharine melodrama and tendency to let scenes ramble on long after their point has been expressed makes for some slow going.

As a piece of cinematic art, this meandering, shambolic film isn't much to speak of, but as a time capsule, it's priceless.

The weighty themes of loss, regret and abdication of personal responsibility are undermined by the reverential use of baseball as a symbol of mankind's potential for selfless greatness.

As Lord Peter Carrington, former mediator of the European Community, points out, a case can be made for all sides in this highly complicated civil war.

It's a testament to both the timelessness and the prescience of Herman Melville's 1853 story "Bartleby, the Scrivener" that it can be so easily updated with so few changes.

The cast is uniformly excellent -- Pryce in simultaneously utterly horrible and a real hoot as the wildly egomaniacal paterfamilias -- but the film itself is merely mildly charming.

Lawrence -- with the help of Oscar-winning makeup effects artist Greg Cannom ("Mrs. Doubtfire") -- has created yet another prosthetic screen wonder.

A combination of fresh twists, worn cliches, and frenetic camerawork, this film offers a premise that adults may not subscribe to--namely, that even Santa gets old, tired, forgetful, and in need of replacement. Still, the character with a heart of gold aims to entertain the young set and generally hits his targets.

A good story and some good effects, but it's a subject that could stand a better, more defined script and more attention to the issues involved.

Even with all its flaws, Johnny Dangerously has many genuinely funny moments, and if you're in the mood for silliness, you won't stop laughing.

The sight of Dracula climbing down a wall headfirst is the highlight of the entire movie; the rest of the film is just another plodding remake. The familiar story is given no new twists, save for an updated Edwardian setting and a few automobiles.

An enjoyable but mindless hour and a half of car wrecks that span several states.

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.

They’re baaaaack.

Pretty good as science fiction thrillers go, but sadly, there isn't much more to say about it.

A must-see for Beatles buffs and anyone interested in how the '60s looked as they were happening (rather than in slick, retrospective recreations); others might want to take a pass.

The film's few saving graces include Dickinson's sardonic southern belle; Winger's welcome return to the screen after a five-year absence; and Howard's voice-over readings of Brown's powerful prose, which ultimately saves the film from itself.

This is a really strange movie, and it contains so many outlandish, peculiar, grotesque, and incongruous moments that it becomes downright surreal.

The film looks great, but there's nothing under the high-gloss veneer.

A sprawling drama about Chicano life in Los Angeles, Bound By Honor contains powerful moments, but characters get lost in the epic sweep.

THE BRIDE must be commended for its attempt to tell two parallel stories, but unfortunately the halves do not balance, resulting in a picture in which the lead characters (Sting and Beals) become secondary to the supporting ones (Brown and Rappaport).

It works its gilded butt off to give you your money's worth.

The action is ridiculously overwrought, a state-of-the-art combination of CGI wizardry and Hong Kong-style wirework so removed from the laws of physical reality that it might as well be animated.

Boasts spunk, imagination and a strong performance from Smallville's very talented Sam Jones III.

An entertaining piece of good ol' boy fluff with plenty of car and boat chases.

Gitai's film is an interesting, if not entirely successful, adaptation of an excellent book.

Entertaining as it sometimes is, IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU has such a puppy-dog determination to be liked that you want to get it off your lap.

A hip-hop reimagining of "The Great Gatsby" that fails both as an update of F. Scott Fitzgerald's dissection of American aspirations and class barriers and on its own boorish terms.

Give this Japanese import points for originality, but not much else.

The third entry in this uneven franchise is a straightforward, gruesome, and relatively successful exercise in disturbing frights.

It took the combined directorial talents of Ivan Passer and Sergei Bodrov to complete this historical epic about the 18th-century attempt to unify the contentious Kazakh tribes into what would become Kazakhstan (no Borat jokes, please), but the result is really little more than an intermittently entertaining.

The two leads are honestly played, and there is a nice feel for the scariness that sex has for adolescents, but the screenplay gets bogged down in silly subplots and stereotypes.

It's well acted and it's entertaining -- and who can resist a movie where Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau are brothers, and Robert Duvall is their dad?

Before it goes down in a soggy mess of scary movie cliches and insultingly stupid plot contrivances, director and co-writer Nick Willing's adaptation of Madison Smartt Bell's novel Dr. Sleep gets in some good, seriously creepy licks.

Supremely silly but undeniably fun sequel.

As meticulously deranged as its paranoid protagonist.

With his spidery fingers and his velvet eyes, the lean, languid Snoop Dogg was born to be an undead player, and clearly relishes the role of Jimmy Bones.

Supervixens is primarily for Meyer cultists, and even they may be put off by the film's length and excessive violence

Apocalyptic carnal horror with a strong Alejandro Jodorworsky vibe.