Just a little shy of twisting the knife that extra twist.

There are about as many laughs in the film's 101 minutes as in a three-minute sketch by the Monty Python troupe, from which much of the cast hails.

If all this were anarchically funny, its shambling idiocy could be forgiven.

While not for every taste, this often very funny collegiate gross-out comedy goes a long way toward restoring the luster of the National Lampoon film franchise.

Once the star of some of the finest movies of the '70s and '80s, Keaton has begun making just this kind of chick-flick comedy with increasing regularity at least since 1996's "The First Wives Club," and it's gotten so she's not even trying to get into character anymore.

Hoping to titillate, while keeping a PG rating, the film opts for tantalizing talk and a constant display of bra-busting females in stiletto heels. The acting here is respectable, but doesn't rise beyond the indifferent script and direction.

This light comedy suffers from a weak script, and although Reynolds manages to hold his own against the brainlessness of the material, he can't rise above it.

A great performance by Barbara Hershey fails to save this poorly directed tale of the supernatural, which was sold as a fictionalized account of an actual paranormal case history.

Scene-stealing cameos by Matt Damon and Lucy Lawless and the very catchy pop song that becomes a leitmotif for Scotty's pain are among its less-raunchy (comparatively speaking) highlights.

Not much to laugh about -- or shout about for that matter.

The film's style is best described as utilitarian, but it gets the job done; the performances range from good to a bit amateurish.

Make no mistake: This slackly paced picture doesn't gel.

Though generally sympathetic, the film manages (without stooping to clichéd moralizing) to suggest that being Ron Jeremy isn't the non-stop paradise his fans imagine.

Harlem Nights isn't the embarrassing vanity production it might have been, there's still not a lot to be said for it.

What chiefly keeps this film on target, though, is Goldblum's marvelously deadpan reaction to all the bloodshed around him. The tone, despite the frequent bloodletting, is light, and the film works better than the script would indicate.

The powerful movement of the movie is exhilarating, but it's all action with little characterization or plot. There is a moral here about mankind's lust for power, but it never clearly emerges from the spectacle of destruction and violence. Ultimately, AKIRA is really all about the animation.

This film is no exception to the rule that philosophical debate seldom spawns compelling cinema.

One-scene guest star Sissy Spacek packs enough genuine madness into her brief screen time to make the surrounding film feel like so much listless play-acting.

If only this amiable shaggy dog story...didn't degenerate into an implausible, second-rate thriller after takeoff.

Sadly, Management is formulaic indie romantic comedy at its core.

Although notorious in South Africa, Stander is little known elsewhere and Canadian director Bronwen Hughes' unsatisfying account of his life and crimes is unlikely to earn him a spot on the outlaw celebrity A-list.

The mise-en-scene is packed with colorful, often shocking images (blood and body wastes are recurring motifs) but orchestrated in a creative delirium.

You have to have a certain affection for any movie in which a stressed-out Mother Nature announces ominously, "Don't mess with me -- I'm pre-El Niño."

Heartfelt but overly familiar film.

While the film does contain a handful of suspenseful sequences, it also suffers from poor pacing and an overall reliance on cliches.

Body of Evidence is at its most hilarious in the deadly earnestness with which it unfolds its ludicrous plot, populated by paper-thin characters who range from the underdeveloped to the simply inane. BODY is oddly conflicted by the sheer unpleasantness of its depiction of sex.

Although it contains funny moments, the deliberately disjointed whole is too cute for its own good.

Nicely directed with a great sense of the oppressiveness of the outdoors. Nature is the villain in this well-filmed second feature by Australian director Eggleston.