Potentially the most controversial movie of 1995 and arguably a masterpiece, this edgy, downbeat film falls somewhere between social document and peep-show.

Arguably writer-director Walter Hill's best film to date, Southern Comfort works both as a pure action film and as an extremely effective allegory of America's involvement in Vietnam.

The technology for twinning a single young actress is considerably more seamless than it was in 1961, and Lohan is a perky charmer.

Deliriously expressionistic visually and aurally.

What's Up Tiger Lily? is cleverly devised, hinging on a well-developed sense of the absurd. Allen and his cohorts make good use of the source movie's situations, turning its obvious cliches into some wonderful parodic gems.

This silly and bloody, but at times very effective, horror film takes The Exorcist one step further by concentrating, not on possession by the Devil, but on the Antichrist himself.

Though working on a Jean-Claude Van Damme vehicle can be seen as a comedown for Woo, he rises to the occasion to create an often rousing entertainment that is almost inarguably Van Damme's best film to date.

Although comparisons with Steven Spielberg's Raiders of the Lost Ark are inevitable, it is the interplay between Turner and Douglas that gives the film its real charm. Norman and DeVito score strongly in roles that would have been played by Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre 30 years ago, and the whole film has the feel of an old Warner Bros. thriller with broadly comic overtones.

Taut, cynical thriller.

Breezy and carefree, THEY ALL LAUGHED suffers from a weak, hard-to-grasp structure. As lovable as the characters and their situations are, one is never quite sure where the film is leading.

The acting is similarly accomplished across the board, though it must be noted that Currie nearly walks off with the film: He's the funniest preppie seducer since Tim Matheson in "Animal House" (1978).

Before it takes a sudden turn and devolves into a bizarre sort of romantic comedy, Steven Shainberg's adaptation of Mary Gaitskill's harrowing short story about dominance, submission and the twisted sexual dynamics of the work place is a brilliantly played, deeply unsettling experience.

With his sure handling of this thriller's switchback plot and hairpin turns, Hideo Nakata confirms his mastery of genre material in the wake of his phenomenally successful "Ring."

Who knew marching bands could be so sexy?

The trouble with director and co-writer Laetitia Colombani's debut feature is that the story isn't really interesting enough to be told twice, let alone dragged out another 20 minutes after that.

Fessenden uses an unsettling mix of montage, time-lapse photography and animation to create an atmosphere of great, unknowable menace that closely approximates the haunted spirit of Algeron Blackwood's unforgettable tale "The Wendigo." These hills are indeed alive.

Dave Collard's preposterous script relies heavily on fortuitous coincidence... and thoroughly stupid behavior.

In the end it appears that the problem is less divorce per se than immature and deeply selfish parents who should never have had children in the first place.

Undeniably handsome..., but no cliché is left unturned, right down to the spray of toy soldiers falling from the hand of a dead child. Everything old isn't new again.

Despite some minor flaws, The Fortune Cookie is a very satisfying film.

A thoroughly disappointing and overproduced picture, A Bridge Too Far is nevertheless technically impressive and its sheer scope may interest hardcore warmongers.

When Cox is performing, the movie is firing on all cylinders.

The crews are perfectly cast for maximum drama.

Depp's considerable personal charm is the movie's greatest asset. The story is painfully insubstantial, and Dunaway is sadly wasted in the shallow, predictable role of a woman whose barren life blossoms under her husband's renewed attention.

Not to be confused with the suggestive, subversive melodramas of Sirk and Minnelli, this is the kind of hypertensive trash that gives melodrama a bad name, cynically tempering its naughty bits with smug moralizing.

Far too long for a lighthearted farce, with dull patches that outnumber the high spots, the film is really about Maclaine and Lemmon striving to rise above the fat Diamond-Wilder script and Wilder's lethargic direction.

The very loose plot of WILD STYLE serves mainly as an excuse for rap-and-dance numbers and the sight of prominent East Coast graffiti artists playing themselves, sometimes with magnetism and panache (Brathewaite), sometimes without (everybody else).

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