The end is hardly in doubt, since this sweet-natured film treads a path worn smooth and hard by countless other tiny feet. Its message is as unimpeachable as it is familiar, differentiated from countless similar tales only by the Filipino setting.

This is a well-made, observant documentary, with attitude to spare and plenty of justifiable laughs at the expense of its subjects. Focusing in on every aspect of this subculture--from the fascinating, to the absurd, to the downright depressing--this would make the perfect double bill with This Is Spinal Tap.

Much ado about nothing much at all.

While far from the cream of the mockumentary crop, it's still a pleasant diversion.

Davis led an unquestionably inspirational life, but The Express, however heartfelt, is uninspired.

The third Die Hard film is easily the most spectacular, featuring an exploding subway train and a manic car chase through the congested streets of New York that rivals "The French Connection."

Writer-director Robert Hiltzik tries to mask the poorly staged murder scenes and lousy effects with a perverse sense of humor, but it doesn't work. Some scenes, especially one involving a girl and a curling iron, are simply irredeemable.

Hollywood's attempt to capitalize on student rebellion looked trivial in comparison to real events (the shootings at Kent State occured in the same year), but Getting Straight, buoyed by Gould's eccentric screen presence and Kovacs' stylish camerawork, holds up surprisingly well.

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.

Concise and well-researched documentary does a fine job of presenting a complicated issue clearly while maintaining a fairly objective middle ground.

A powerful anti-war film.

Milos Forman's film is a series of incredible simulations that never quite cohere into a movie.

Troche has bitten off quite a bit here, and it's too much for her to chew properly.

The climactic revelation is a real disappointment, humdrum rather than chilling.

Most of the film's humor derives from smug anachronisms (the Brit-pop soundtrack, Wang and Roy's use of modern slang) and jokes about bad English food, teeth and weather that were old when Victoria was a girl.

Even generally sympathetic adults may eventually find their minds wandering, if only because of the characters' continual, annoying hopping; being vegetables, they have no legs, you see.

The homoerotic twists and gender-shifting turns are fun, but they can't hide the fact that the film is little more than a tedious shaggy-dog story with oblique mythological references.

A thin plot heavily laden with many of Neil Simon's best one-liners makes this a pleasant way to spend 102 minutes. Chase contributes a somewhat frantic turn, and Hawn does her cute thing. Some nice work from the secondary players--including Harold Gould, Robert Guillaume, and Yvonne Wilder--adds to the fun.

Such astringent details as a banjo player plucking a few ominous notes from "Dueling Banjos" when Ed first lays eyes on the Norman Rockwellian beauty of Spectre ensure that the story's fundamental sweetness never becomes cloying.

Hackman turns in his usual solid performance, and Glover is strong as the pilot who develops a deep empathy for the officer, although the device of having the men interact almost entirely by radio limits development of their relationship.

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.

An exuberant and supremely unselfconscious first film about five Melbourne college students and the various crises that befall them during one momentous day. The movie is in the best sense of the word artless (there's not an hommage insight), and its occasional missteps -- like a ham-fisted parody of partisan film students -- do little to undermine its charms.

Monica Cervera's fearless performance as the homely Marieta, whose movie-made dreams of glamour will never come true, is mesmerizing.

The script, the direction and finally, Fonda's acting choices capture nothing of what made Hellman a true piss-and-vinegar original.

Director Thomas Schlamme's unsure handling of scenes and indiscriminate use of unappealing close-ups of actors emoting at full steam only emphasize the material's weakness.

The most impressive thing about it is that the actors manage to sound so earnest while mouthing the most shameless cliches imaginable.

A thoughtful, atmospheric thriller.

While far from being one of Harryhausen's best films (the quality of which had little to do with his abilities), the movie has superb effects that are worth a look for his fans.