Unfortunately, for all its credentials and the virtuoso performances of its three leads, this lengthy movie doesn't add up to much. It fails to explore its themes--love and hedonism, freedom and commitment (political and sexual)--in depth, floating haphazardly from scene to scene without emotional or intellectual development.

The first-rate cast is lost at sea.

The two stars have their comedy routine down to perfection, though Carvey, in a series of unflattering closeups, looks old enough to play Garth's father.

Intended as more than a simple genre flick, SUGAR HILL aspires to something like classical tragedy, but it's weighed down by its sense of self-importance.

Overall, how funny you find it will probably depend on whether or not the mere sight of Stiller sucking in his cheeks, widening his eyes and striking preposterous poses makes you laugh uproariously.

Jamal's comedy of family dysfunction is essentially a sitcom episode writ large; it's not subtle, but it's good-natured and hits its marks with ruthless efficiency.

Tediously predictable thriller.

Despite all the points it gains for furrowed brows and kick-ass gunfights, the film loses quite a few for being dry as burnt toast.

Melodramatic.

Feels forced and awkward, as though it's trying too hard to be weird, culty and profound.

There's a certain built-in poignance to the end-of-an-era proceedings here, regardless of how frostily they're dramatized.

Overall, this is the kind of thing that gives literary adaptations their bad name.

Although Rabid is full of interesting ideas, they are not particularly well developed or presented by Cronenberg's unfocused script.

Once you get past the lengthy, graphic geyser-of-liquid-excrement gag, it's not as irredeemably vulgar as it might have been.

Director John Hough, who made his mark in several episodes of the popular television series The Avengers, keeps things moving at a brisk pace and stages the scenes of horror with considerable panache.

This loud, overlong and thoroughly exhausting fantasy, based on Milan Trenc's slim children's book, purports to introduce youngsters to the wonders of New York City's American Museum of Natural History, but in fact aims squarely at hyperactive kids who can't sit still or stand a moment's silence.

What charm the movie has is almost entirely due to Grant and Barrymore -- the master of smarmily irresistible self-deprecation meets the sweetly vulnerable queen of awkward self-sabotage. While they have no romantic chemistry, they're certainly appealing.

An extraordinarily predictable and uninviting western directed by McLaglen in the John Ford vein but with none of the Ford atmosphere, complexity, characterization, or inventiveness.

Stranded somewhere between exuberantly bad and merely boring, THE INDIAN RUNNER is a bloated resume film hobbled by a script as slight as the Bruce Springsteen song upon which it's based.

This unnecessary and overlong sequel fails to recapture its predecessor's zing.

Milos Forman's film is a series of incredible simulations that never quite cohere into a movie.

Despite its ample flaws, Men at Work is never boring and often is a lot of fun; however, it would have benefitted from the pruning of a few of its misfired visual gags, particularly those involving excrement.

While kids of all ages will want to see it, the movie is loud and occasionally brutal, and while the body count is relatively low, it's still pretty scary stuff.

Swaddled in terms so trite and cliched that they're almost guaranteed to bring out the closet cynic in even the most sympathetic viewers.

Although phenomenally well-acted, the film's leisurely pace ultimately makes it feel as oppressive as the tropical heat and humidity that gradually turn the characters into slow-moving heaps of damp, dirty rags.

Despite fine performances from its lead actors, The Border fails to involve the viewer at more than a perfunctory level.

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.

Ippoliti's sharp cinematography helps salvage this below-par production.