Youngblood is little more than a star vehicle for Lowe, who handles the role well enough.

Throughout, Binder doesn't seem wholly committed either to character exploration or broad comedy; the film veers back and forth between the two. Despite its weaknesses, however, SUMMER is another promising film for Binder, who manages a fair enough share of privileged moments to make it worthwhile, if not outstanding. He's put together a terrific cast and has directed them well, down to Raimi, who puts his longtime devotion to The Three Stooges to good work by stealing some of the film's best laughs.

Director Emile Ardolino largely saves the day by coaxing winning performances from an excellent cast. Goldberg's work here never loses its edge or originality, allowing her to shine opposite Smith, who is so good that she barely seems to be acting.

A slick, glossy multi-character soap opera set in London's airport.

The famous soliloquies are heard in voice-over -- a risky idea that works -- and Wright has found clever ways of naturalizing the play's more supernatural elements.

Collapsed into the black hole of its own mythology.

Terrific acting and fearless direction transform what might have been a silly exercise in the slightly spooky into a somber and deeply romantic mystery.

Animator Ralph Bakshi's adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord Of The Rings"trilogy is an entertaining film, but in attempting to remain faithful to the source material, Bakshi tries to cover too much ground.

Though extremely violent, the film is surprisingly boring in spots.

A sentimental look at love and middle-aged discontent thinly disguised as a comic adventure story.

Like its seven subjects, it can't see past the immediate demands of addiction, and the film becomes a seemingly endless string of scenes depicting shooting up, nodding out and waiting around for the next fix.

It's actually quite interesting, albeit in a supremely self-conscious and artsy-fartsy way.

Watts is good -- occasionally very good -- and her willingness to be filmed at unflattering angles, in pore-wallowing or with bright blue ice cream smeared on her face is admirable.

Directed with flair by George Pan Cosmatos and filled with sly references to Moby Dick and The Old Man and the Sea, this film is a successful blend of terror and humor, played with some real fervor by Weller.

A strange movie that doesn't seem to know what it wants to be. Sentimental, biting, satirical, whimsical, and self-righteous, it begins with a romp at high speed, then goes straight into a hole from which it never emerges.

Coming at a time when the settlements on the Gaza Strip are being dismantled, Cedar's film offers a sly critique of their origins, and refreshingly different point of view.

An erratic but compelling film that lingers long after the fade-out.

Ultimately, aside from the valiant efforts of pros like Elizabeth McGovern and the effortless Bill Pullman, The Favor is virtually indistinguishable from recent direct-to-video exploitation comedies

Where the hero of Maupin's novel learns some valuable lessons about love and faith, the film strikes a darker, even angry tone that's far more understandable and, in the end, far more convincing.

Everything looks fabulous, but the fight scenes are stagy, the dialogue stilted, the characters underdeveloped and the tone superficially cynical.

Not one to overstay its welcome, this suspenseful tale is an economic exercise in delivering the goods for those who are interested in a two-fisted Liam Neeson vehicle to soak up, bask in, and then leave behind as soon as it's over.

Should be shown in theaters that offer seats with tissue dispensers built right into the arm rests.

The inspired pairing of "Talledega's" Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly, two actors smart enough to play dumb and make it work.

Ask New York-based filmmaker Amos Poe, who badly botches this profile of the artist with a sloppy structure, careless editing and amateurish optical effects that detract from what's actually good about the film: Earle's music.

Striking lack of originality.

Most of what goes wrong here can be blamed on the script, which provides little of the smart and snappy dialog needed to pull off a film like this.

Mona Demarkov may not be a convincing woman, but she's an awe-inspiring embodiment of the female principle at its most devouring, Medusa, Kali, and praying mantis all rolled into one frilly, garter-wrapped package.

Everyone does his or her own singing--a mistake, except in the case of Presnell. Eastwood talk-sings effectively, a la Rex Harrison, but Marvin sings so badly that his numbers are camp classics.