Bullock playing against type is the only original thing going on in the whole film.

It shares all the original's shortcomings —--it’s too long and too loud and filled with historical disinformation -- but none of the snap that made "National Treasure" fun for kids and a guilty pleasure for some adults.

The irony is that for all its "not your father's spy movie" posing, it's exactly like the later James Bond pictures: predictable, lightweight and 100 percent disposable

It works its gilded butt off to give you your money's worth.

Along the way, director Brian Robbins indulges Reeves in too many laughable inspirational speeches. He also wastes the terrific Diane Lane in the thankless role of the kids' dedicated teacher.

Clumsy and amateurish. But it's also occasionally quite charming, and ultimately more commendable for what it ISN'T than worthy of censure for being nothing more than an inconsequential comedy.

One soggy, charmless heap of chum.

This smooth concoction goes down with a pleasant tingle and leaves behind a warm glow.

Fans will clap along with the many songs, but the tunes aren't interesting enough to win over the unconverted -- a fact made clear when genuine teen star Taylor Swift shows up to perform -- she demonstrates all the spontaneity and authenticity that Miley Cyrus lacks.

There's nothing more to it than meets the eye, but Bertino understands the mechanics of suspense and knows how to use them.

Every aspect of WILLOW seems as if it were written in stone before a shot was filmed. The plot grinds on inescapably to its predictable climax, with the viewer fully aware of what awaits long before the events unfold.

Holland fills this film with so many throwaway gags that it is impossible to communicate the outright zaniness. Every scene contains dozens of jokes, some that work and some that don't, but they keep coming so fast and furious that the duds are easily forgotten. Strung together on the flimsiest of plots, Holland's film works as well as it does because he stocks it with several likably eccentric characters. While certainly not for all tastes, it's refreshing teenage fare, and underlying its cartoony insouciance is a welcome touch of innocence.

The improbable star of this ultra-low budget cinematic gross-out is 300-pound transvestite Divine, whose willingness to do virtually anything in front of the camera, along with an undeniable screen presence, made Pink Flamingos a favorite on the campus and midnight-movie circuits.

It's not earthshaking or life-changing, but it's cute, occasionally predictable and only requires ACTUAL idiots, like Barry, to act like idiots. As formula entertainment goes, that's a pretty sweet deal.

Although it lacks the intensity and sophistication that could have made it a classic, the film still has a definite charm and appeal.

Unfortunately, the remake is as toothless as the original and gets bogged down in the humiliations of the Harpers' down-slipping life.

Well-acted first-feature.

Martin's Bilko is a career grifter who comes out on top every time. He's a Bilko for the nasty '90s, oily and smug.

In Ducastel's and Martineau's hands all the unpleasantness blows away like a kiss on a soft summer breeze, a light wind that nevertheless leaves a vaguely unpleasant scent in its wake.

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

A wildly overblown, unpleasantly smirky mess of a film.

Delivers some powerful emotional wallops alongside the chopsticks-up-the-nose violence, and manages the remarkable feat of making venerable American genre conventions seem eerily alien.

The jabs at the expense of self-centered New Yorkers with more money than sense are so mild they're pointless -- if satire doesn't hurt, what's the point?

The film is filled with Miike's brand of imaginatively staged violence and hints of fetish sexuality, but his sadism, which reaches its apotheosis in 2001's sickening "Ichii The Killer", is tempered by a sincere romanticism and a number of lovely touches.

That rare film aimed at teenage girls that's still enjoyable for grownup viewers.

Given the serious subject matter, this adaptation of Irish writer Brendan Behan's autobiographical novel is surprisingly light and exceedingly good-natured.

The film's greatest assets are leads Susie Porter and David Wenham, whose considerable personal appeal make its trite observations about the war of the sexes seem charming, at least for a while.

Tries to leave the impression of Escobar as a positive force whose dirty money actually saved Colombia's economy while those of neighboring Latin American countries collapsed.