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.

Filled with interesting characters and strong performances, Stay Hungry not only makes its point about class prejudice, but presents a detailed portrait of southern country club culture and the bodybuilding milieu that would be so deftly captured in Schwarzenegger's next film, the fine documentary Pumping Iron.

A pleasant, mindless diversion.

Essentially a supersize episode that ignores a slew of fifth-season developments and adds yet another monster to the mix, one that owes a striking debt to "Alien."

The film's occasional jarring shifts in tone are a liability, but not a fatal one: It's a character-driven piece and the beautifully-crafted characters mask the narrative flaws.

Yuen would have been better off exposing more of that reality and celebrating less of the joyful silliness of the model works, let alone staging pointless hip-hop-inflected dance numbers set to Yang Ban Xi musical themes.

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.

None of it really adds up to much but it's smart, low-key fun -- terrible title and dangling preposition notwithstanding.

This supremely silly supernatural potboiler is slickly entertaining for just under two hours and absolutely hilarious for 10 minutes near the end.

"Double Indemnity's" darkly poetic carnality is timeless. Trashy, throwaway fluff like De Palma's film can only look bad by comparison.

These three films form a remarkably cohesive whole, both visually and thematically, through their consistently sensitive and often exciting treatment of an ignored people.

Gordon makes the mistake of preserving Bradfield's highly idiosyncratic dialogue -- dazzling on the page, deadly in any actor's mouths -- and the otherwise talented Lloyd is miscast.

This DIY oddity is both quirkily funny and strangely poignant, and does justice to the same themes that underlie the far more lavishly produced "A.I.: Artificial Intelligence."

Ironically, as the former U.S. ambassador to Saudi Arabia Chas Freeman, puts it, Iraq has become what the Bush White House insisted it was at the very beginning, albeit for altogether different reasons: a battlefield in the war against terrorism.

Highlights how far we've fallen.

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

While Burnam and Garrison imbue their characters with authentic-feeling frustration and anger, they never succeed in making them especially interesting; it's hard to care in any serious way what becomes of either.

Andrew Neel's fascinating but troubling documentary about his famous grandmother is more than a mere biography of an important 20th-century artist: It's also an intimate portrait of a family member that questions whether or not "great artist" and "good parent" can ever be combined in the same person.

Jim Brown and Gary Burns hang a powerful antisuburban diatribe in the form of statistics, expert opinions and pictures worth a thousand words on the experiences of the Moss family.

There are some marvelous sight gags, but the film goes over the top into mindless farce at times, destroying much of the Chaplinesque believability that Sellers had earlier engendered.

Generally regarded as the best of Reynolds good ol' boy films, with fine, sensitive performances by the leads and a wonderful supporting cast.

Though at times the film relies a bit too much on slapstick humor, skilled director Robert Stevenson (working on his 19th Disney film) keeps the action from getting too out of hand

You can almost feel writer-director Ron Shelton praying for lightning to strike twice, but to no avail.

There's no time wasted and no showy effects to detract from the situation -- just sheer tension.

Although perhaps not as mind-blowing in its uniqueness as RE-ANIMATOR, this is definitely one of the best horror films of the 1980s.

There's no downside to a reminder that not every beefy, God-talking sheriff is a bigoted cracker, and Kraus' short, no-frills documentary is a model of fly-on-the-wall filmmaking.

A handsomely mounted aviation adventure from the director, screenwriter and one of the stars of the hugely successful BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID, this film deals with that colorful era of the early 1920s when barnstorming--performing aerial feats before rural crowds--was so popular.

All technical credits are first rate, but Friedkin doesn't draw enough on his substantial cinematic talent.