Despite the impressive special effects, Honey, I Blew Up The Kid offers few surprises. The visual gag of a giant-sized infant is the only real joke the film has and it wears thin in a hurry. The plot is perfunctory and simple, presumably to cater to the attention span of a pint-sized audience.

Labyrinth packs enough surprises to captivate an audience of children and provides enough wisecracking to keep adults laughing.

Although SWAMP THING was definitely aimed at a different audience than THE HILLS HAVE EYES, Craven fails to capture the gothic quality of its comic book inspiration--which had some genuinely frightening and grotesque moments. Instead, the whole thing is merely silly and not much fun.

The premise of LITTLE NIKITA is a great one--worthy of Alfred Hitchcock--but the execution here by director Benjamin is as rickety as can be. About two-thirds into LITTLE NIKITA, the film deteriorates so rapidly that the characters cannot help but fall through the holes. Adding to the frustration of watching this otherwise-promising movie fall apart are the superb performances by Poitier and Phoenix.

A strong cast that flounders in profoundly unappealing material.

Ambitious thriller, which never quite lives up to its aspirations or its cast.

The cast is strong and work together flawlessly, and romantic comedies that take an unabashedly male perspective without being relentlessly vulgar or misogynistic are rare indeed.

It's a frequently funny diversion that doesn't have a mean-spirited bone in its body.

The final moment of Minac's film is a powerful tribute to Winton's heroism and the magnitude of his achievement, easily eclipsing the 90 minutes that precede it.

It's cool and spare, but there's an essential lightness to the film's tone despite the heavy material, and Deborah Eve Lewis' glistening B&W cinematography is simply luscious.

Rises above its low-budget limitations by pandering to the most outrageously paranoid fantasies of unhappy office drones.

This surprisingly grim comedy-drama is about as good as director Joel Schumacher gets.

The impulses that produced this project, which brings together three short, English-language films by African female filmmakers into a feature-film package introduced by rap icon Queen Latifah, are commendable, but the results are uneven.

Though apparently conceived as a revisionist Western, Tombstone falls prey to the cliches of the genre, and its last third is a muddle.

Despite the considerable creative and technical talents of those involved, Fat Man And Little Boy is slow, stilted, and stultifying.

LeRoy's direction is apparently nonexistent, but what this movie really lacks is a good musical score with tunes by someone like Harry Warren, Richard Rodgers, or Cole Porter.

The film's wittiest moment comes before it starts: the familiar MGM lion is replaced by a roaring crocodile when the studio's logo appears.

This winning comedy joyfully embraces every possible permutation of love; cupid, it turns out, is indeed blind, and doesn't care much about gender either.

Playing straight man isn't really Barrymore's strength, but former "Simpson's" writer Larry Doyle's script is funny and Stiller is even funnier; he turns even the more juvenile moments in something to laugh at.

The film is a mess from start to finish with several main characters who appear and disappear throughout. No character development, no thematic development, no narrative development. No life. No force. No dice.

Though the clash between old-world parents and their American-born children is familiar territory, New Jersey-born, Taiwan-raised director/cowriter Bay-Sa Pan gives the conflict a culturally particular spin and elicits strong performances from her appealing cast.

Shot on digital video as murky as Masuoka's imagination, its creeping sense of dank dread is as slow to build as it is hard to shake.

Disjointed and underdeveloped. John Badham's direction is equally uninspired, though the climactic race, shot on location during the Coors International Bicycle Classic, is filmed with an abundance of breathtaking helicopter shots that capture the beautiful scenery.

An action thriller from the Joel Silver school of Big Bang filmmaking, Passenger 57 smashes on the runway, an inflated cartoon of excess without a modicum of charm, wit or sense.

Unfortunately, director Robert Wise has no feeling for Trek's pop insouciance, and the movie unfolds ponderously.

The material played upon all the best aspects of the socially conscious movements of the 1960s, and then perverted them by preaching that violence is indeed the solution to problems as long as it's for the right cause.

The animation, courtesy of Don Bluth's studio, is exceptional, and some fine musical moments are provided by Melba Moore.

No, there's nothing intelligent here--just a couple of likable fellows trying to stop mad Brewmeister Smith (Max von Sydow) from gaining control of the world.