Chase delivers a one-note performance, consisting mainly of predictable comebacks and salacious leers, while the characters who become the targets of his witty rejoinders are weak and silly stereotypes. FLETCH LIVES is a custom-built Chevy Chase vehicle throughout; the other performers are only along for the ride.

Rocky IV is a far cry from the delights (both large and small) of its illustrious original.

This is a one-idea concept enlivened ever so slightly by fleeting moments of Cohen's patented sociopolitical subtext and goofy black humor.

Much of it will probably go right over the heads of kids who aren't familiar with classic movies or the naughtiness of Eddie Izzard.

The perky Aniston is both unflatteringly photographed and utterly unconvincing in the pivotal role of Lucinda, and overall the film has the oddly disconnected quality of '70s Euro-thrillers whose international casts spoke different languages on the set and were dubbed into conformity.

Ichaso tells Piñero's story through a sometimes disorienting series of flashbacks and flash-forwards, fracturing the time frame to suit the film's internal rhythms, rather than any coherent time line.

Performances from the two principals are as developed as the frequently convoluted script allows them to be.

Danish writer-director Ole Bornedal delivers up a stylish thriller whose murky, shot-through-pond-scum cinematography is its most distinctive feature.

The plot of Gleaming the Cube is far from original, but the skateboarding sequences are exhilarating and add a great deal of excitement to otherwise routine material.

A smash success as a stage play, JUNO AND THE PAYCOCK did not translate well to film, even under the sure hand of master filmmaker Hitchcock.

The film's lingering exploration of their sleek surfaces verges on roboporn.

Besides a lot of scenic driving in and around Calgary, Nightbreed does have its fair share of sound and fury, not to mention blood and entrails. But it plays as if Barker were making it up as he went along, despite the film's having been based on his own novel Cabal.

Compared to this brash, lunkheaded vehicle for "Baywatch" star Pamela Anderson Lee, the Barb Wire graphic novels are masterpieces of subtlety and narrative restraint.

However stale the material, Lawrence's delivery remains perfect; his great gift is that he can actually trick you into thinking some of this worn-out, pandering palaver is actually funny.

A shamelessly derivative, if basically likeable, kid's picture.

Your ability to overlook the film's myriad contrivances will ultimately depend on how you react to little De Roma.

But beneath the bombast it's pure paste and tinsel and, robbed of the thrill of live performance, the show's deficiencies are glaringly apparent.

Arm wrestling, truck driving, weird weight lifting, and tear jerking are the stuff of this predictable Sylvester Stallone vehicle in which he plays Lincoln Hawk, a trucker-cum-wrist twister whose son, Michael (David Mendenhall), has been kept from him by his devious, wealthy father-in-law (Robert Loggia).

A fairly serious psychodrama rendered in cartoon images.

The extremes of this production's assets and liabilities are embodied by Caleb Deschanel's cinematography and Gabriel Yared's score: One is as glorious and transcendental as the other is execrably sappy.

All the tunes are forgettable, and Reynolds and Dom DeLuise, who plays a crusading moralist, ham it up mercilessly.

A convoluted exercise in shifting perspectives and fractured storytelling.

While the film completely unravels shortly after the opening scene, there a few good performances (notably from Robert Loggia) and the gorgeous cinematography of Robby Muller to cling to as it sinks into a confused abyss.

Favors light action over character dynamics.

This third--and, at $30 million, most expensive--go-around gamely attempts to jump-start the viewer's interest with the canny switch of locations (and centuries), but the new recipe can't change the fact that this Turtle soup has grown cold.

Stanford's script is painfully obvious, right down to the line of dialogue spelling out the title's significance.

There are two stunning battle sequences, and that rose-tinted bloodbath is a stroke of the eccentric genius for which Stone is famous.

The movie is a succession of shticks--which, when they succeed, are very funny. Unfortunately, not all of them succeed.