Not quite as fresh as the first NAKED GUN, but what can you expect from a film subtitled "The Smell of Fear"?

Much of the film's appeal rests with Thai soap-opera actress Panyopas, whose bittersweet charm smoothes over the uglier aspects of Tum's spiral into crime.

A successful thriller makes you forget such impossibilities, but here they poison every scene.

Director Weir and cinematographer Russell Boyd's re-creation of the invasion and battle action is stunning, but what makes Gallipoli such an affecting film is its intimate presentation of the friendship between Archy and Frank (wonderfully essayed by Lee and Gibson).

Director Kershner demonstrates fine visual talents in his use of New York locations.

Director Robert Mulligan does an excellent job of evoking both the historical period and the terror, aided greatly by Robert Surtees' fine photography. The performances from the Udvarnoky twins are nuanced and memorable. Well worth seeing.

British documentarian Peter Bate frames a mix of archival materials and re-creations with a "trial" at which Leopold listens to testimony against him from within a wood-and-glass booth, like Nazi Adolf Eichmann at Nuremberg.

There are only short bursts of action in between nearly endless talk in the Clements script. Despite a huge cast of very competent actors the film misses the mark.

The overall effect is either exhilarating or exhausting, depending on your emotional investment in the franchise, but credit where credit is due: Steven Spielberg and George Lucas set out to make one for the fans and delivered.

Broomfield's film is didactic, awkwardly acted by the cast of former Marines who are meant to lend the film credibility, and clumsily inflammatory.

We've come a long way from the filthiest people in the world: Who knew Waters could be so bland?

It's difficult to figure just what is going on here, and most certainly not worth the effort.

The film is rich with period flavor, and Phillips is superb as Valens, but the rags-to-riches story (even if true) is maudlin and overfamiliar.

The freedom to answer Hamlet's nagging question over whether to be or not for oneself is explored in this thoughtful and thought provoking documentary about the Swiss organization EXIT AMD.

A workmanlike piece of storytelling elevated by fine performances.

A kitchen-sink realist coming-of-age story in the venerable British tradition, with all the good and bad that entails.

Even the film's ironic ending is deftly handled, its cynicism is tempered by a certain rueful wisdom.

Despite strong acting (the slapstick energy between Ford and Connery is wasted), obligatory chases and stunts and splendid art direction, the virtuoso technique evident in every frame remains formulaic--unaccompanied by revelation, epiphany or surprise.

There are poignant moments in this apocalyptic "what if" exercise.

One problem with the film is that it does nothing to endear the Catskill social setting to an audience; the inhabitants seem to be competing for awards in obnoxiousness.

The Warriors is a visual feast. Director Hill fills the frame with vibrant colors, bright lights, and nonstop motion. The uniforms of the various gangs are unique, funny, fearsome, and more than a bit theatrical. The exciting fight scenes are brilliantly choreographed, and instead of focusing on the violence, Hill concentrates on pure movement (most of the cast were actually dancers).

Between Magruder's oily schmoozing and the camera-ready combo of Spanish moss and constant rain, he and cinematographer Changwei Gu whip up some amazing atmosphere.

Mesmerizing.

Wavers between being condescending and downright preposterous, but there are redeeming moments.

As star, director and co-producer, Streisand shifts the book's focus from the Wingo past to the Tom-Susan love affair. This could have worked had Streisand directed herself better--if, indeed, she had directed herself at all. Instead of a performance, we get smirks, poses, campy shots that linger on her outrageously long manicured fingernails, and radiant, cloying smiles. Streisand's inadequacies, though, are more than compensated for by Nolte's compelling Tom. He brings conviction and depth to the role, treading a fine line between self-pity and self-respect and exposing his frailties with a rare sensitivity.

Stereotypes abound in this foolish, witless western--a production misusing the fine talent in its cast.

Richly imagined and resolutely unpredictable, this dark and profoundly optimistic paean to passion -- for glass, for horses, for the thrill of the moment after a coin is flipped but before it falls -- is held together by Gillian Armstrong's solid direction and by strong, if occasionally strident, performances from Fiennes and newcomer Blanchett.

Anime enthusiasts will want to take a look, but the film is too uneven to serve as a good introduction to the form.