Not much to laugh about -- or shout about for that matter.

It's not perfect, but PERFECT WEAPON at least furnishes action aficionados with a hero who has a life beyond the floormat of a kung fu school. Speakman may augur a new breed of action hero--a 90s kind of fella who's survived both martial arts classes and sensitivity training sessions. Men will be enthusiastic over his fast footwork; women will be impressed by his ability to carry on an intelligent conversation.

If you enjoyed the robo-spastic ride the first time, then you should be happy with this movie, too. And if you complained that the first movie was trite and lacking in character development, then you probably shouldn’t even be reading this.

A sassy romantic battle of the sexes with a refreshing African-American slant.

Though occasional flashes of the radiantly bi-cultural romp that might have been peek through, writer-director Deepa Mehta's hybrid is strangely clumsy, given that she's an experienced filmmaker familiar with both Hollywood and Bollywood conventions.

As live-action adaptations of cheap, unapologetically stupid cartoons go, this is top of the line: The cast is appealing, the sets brightly colored and fun to look at, the mystery as lame and goofy as any featured in the many inexplicably beloved Scooby-Doo cartoons.

For all its many flaws, the original PET SEMATARY at least maintained a fidelity to its source novel; this one not only ignores the rules set up by the first movie but manages to contradict its own internal and dramatic logic as well.

The film's last 20 minutes devolve into a tedious slog through the kind of pointless, predictable running and screaming that give horror movies a bad name.

Westby's sympathy for the Scottys of the world is evident, but like them he doesn't always know how to put his best face forward.

Somehow, Hollywood has managed to reinvent the hard-boiled source novel -- Cornel Woolrich's "I Married a Dead Man" -- as a soft-centered candy of a comedy, and the result is indigestible.

The car stunts are ridiculous, all lightning-fast editing and computer enhancement -- by the time action is this far removed from reality, who cares?

The movie fails to make Alma a vivid presence -- She deserves better, and so do viewers.

Because the screenplay is more concerned with its formula plot than with character development, neither McCarthy nor Dillon offer any real insights into this theme.

For all its shocking content, it remains a rather conventional psychological portrait of Oedipal attraction taken to a disturbing extreme.

The film is content to relentlessly scream "Boo!" behind the audience's back rather than provide any real thrills.

A hokey monster mish-mash that plunders the richly textured histories of Dracula, the Wolfman and Frankenstein's monster.

Cowriter and director Joel Schumacher keeps things moving, skipping adroitly from one narrative thread to another. Well he should, since it's unlikely any of the subplots could have stood on their own, and very few penetrate deeper into the human condition than the average magazine advertisement.

This flashy fright flick doesn't break any new ground, but puts an attractive gloss on genre conventions.

What's most offensive isn't the waste of a good cast, but the film's denial of sincere grief and mourning in favor of bogus spiritualism. Only devotees of Ouija boards and TV's "Crossing Over" will find anything of merit here.

Bad enough that the plot is shopworn, but the tough-gal talk is unintentionally hilarious, and the complicated narrative structure is annoying and pointless.

Tthough it comes wrapped in a stylish French mantle of feminist rage and sexual empowerment, the picture ultimately belongs squarely in the tradition of rape revenge pictures.

If it were possible for an entire state to sue for defamation of character, Iowa might have a strong case against writer, director and star Matt Farnsworth.

There's no getting around the fact that Ross's whole cynical premise is based on the lurid male assumption that nubile, college-bound teens have few qualms about selling themselves, a fantasy as deluded as the targets of Ross's barbed arrows.

Despite eye-catching sets and smart casting, this first feature-length film to be adapted from a video game is a bloated muddle.

And if you can't figure out who [the bad guy] is the minute he first appears, you've either seen too few movies with mind-numbingly predictable plots or you've seen far too many.

Don't be put off: Hernandez's exquisite romance works on an emotional, as well as intellectual, level.

Freakies fans will swoon.

Though the film gets off to an indifferent start, bogged down by too many talking heads, by the time Cochran plunges headlong into corruption, Scott is operating at something like full throttle.