In the end it's all seductive surface and no substance, but Lough has a bold eye and a vivid sense of uniquely urban beauty.

Nick Nolte gives one of his finest performances in this somewhat mannered but absorbing adaptation of John Steinbeck's novels Cannery Row and Sweet Thursday.

French up-and-comer Alexandre Aja's full-bore do-over is a shockingly successful update of a seminal 1970s shocker.

A big sweet hit, tingly and glycerined in a phony way, but diverting.

The story gets silly from time to time, stretching credibility to the breaking point, but the final result is an old-fashioned love triangle made new by the third party's being electronic.

Prodded by Landis' slam-bang direction, the effect isn't so much a comedy as it is an exercise in excess. Somewhere in the planning stage one all-important factor was left out: humor. The concept is a funny one, yet no one seems to have the faintest idea of what to do with it. Between Landis' direction and the initially lame screenplay, Three Amigos never really stands a chance.

Engaging, high-spirited tale.

A fascinating, often tragic history of a program the Soviet Union held up to the rest of the world as communism's ultimate technological achievement.

The story is shallow stuff, but pretty entertaining until it becomes utterly preposterous.

Purely literary stuff that's always the first to go whenever a book is adapted for the screen. Unfortunately, as this thin and entirely ill-conceived adaptation from director Neil LaBute demonstrates, that stuff happens to be the lifeblood of Byatt's wonderful book.

The pace is brisk and the details are carefully arranged, but there's no sparkle -- and what's a romance without that?

This efficient fright machine features a knowing cameo by Curtis's mom -- "Psycho's" Janet Leigh -- a couple of bloody good scares and a genuinely affecting performance from Curtis.

This is a rare road picture that leaves us knowing less about our traveling companions than we did when the journey started; Dahan and screenwriter Agnes Fustier-Dahan reduce their characters to pasteboard symbols, colored by unexplained quirks.

The youngsters all turn in game performances, but the standout is Anne Heche, whose weird Missy Egan is pure Mimsy Farmer at maximum twitch.

Based on the story of Milarepa (1043 - 1123), who renounced the violence and vengeance of his early life to become a revered Tibetan Buddhist saint, lama Neten Chokling's directing debut ends on a frustrating spiritual cliffhanger.

Although the premise of Goin' South is clever, the story is unbelievable and, under Nicholson's first grip as a director, is unwieldy and directionless. The tale is presented in disjointed, confusing, poorly set sequences. Nicholson the actor is mildly amusing, as are some of his riotous gang members, DeVito and Belushi (the latter appearing only briefly, irrespective of his high billing). But the whole film deteriorates midway into amateurish mugging and slapstick.

The New Jersey locations and soundtrack help ground the story in a particular time and place, and Schroeder delivers a terrific performance.

True to form, Salles' version is an intelligent, brooding ghost story brimming with atmosphere, emotions and, above all else, water, but it's disappointingly short on scares.

It may seem mean-spirited to complain that in the end Burton's spectacle is a bit hollow. But his genius has always resided in his ability to give depth and a curious, dark richness to the ephemeral fluff of his pop-culture memories -- this is all sparkly surface.

Although PUNCHLINE occasionally falters--in its contrived contest ending and saccharine tendencies--it is still an engaging and honest achievement.

It's all densely imagined and more than a little goofy -- perhaps too goofy for the average American viewer.

If the film ultimately amounts to little more than a middle-aged coming-of-age story, it's richly imagined and filled fanciful touches in keeping with its passionate subject.

The movie winds up becoming "The Annette Bening Show," and she's quite good: Bening makes the most of a string of mad scenes for which any actress would kill, and the real pain she brings to the part grounds the film in something real.

A shapeless mess that falls far short of the high expectations created by Lee's first feature, SHE'S GOTTA HAVE IT.

There are a number of excruciating moments that are almost too silly to mention.

Most conspicuously absent is John Travolta, replaced here by Maxwell Caulfield, who can't lift the original greaser's comb. Michelle Pfeiffer (MARRIED TO THE MOB; DANGEROUS LIAISONS) fares better as Olivia Newton-John's replacement, but the whole movie looks as if it has been slapped together to capitalize on its predecessor's success, and no doubt, it was.

The good news is that Fishburne also stars, and has recruited a talented group of actors to flesh out the cast; the bad news is that no one seems to have been on hand to help out with the rest of film.

Fluffy, candy-colored and aimed directly at tweens -- girls between the ages of 10 and 12.