Gives off an air of clammy desperation that feels all too authentic without being especially funny and bogs down early in repetitive shtick. (review of re-release)

It aspires to greater moral ambiguity than the average crime thriller, and if it doesn't entirely succeed it nevertheless avoids the lazy moral bankruptcy of movies like "Lethal Weapon 4."

Though not much about the film sticks with you, it's a reliable piece of fluff that delivers the goods.

It's tremendous fun, thanks largely to a smarter-than-average script and some fierce casting.

Ritchie appears to have been paying attention to what made "Reservoir Dogs" (a huge hit in the UK) work, rather than coming away convinced that the formula for success begins and ends with pop-culture allusions and scarcely digested "homages" to classic crime films.

Ridiculous haircuts and clothes can't compensate for the absence of real characters, which consigns much of the cast to cameo-like performances.

The film's most consistently entertaining element is Berkowitz's backer, a shady character named Elie Samaha who never appears on camera. Samaha's expletive-laden harangues, in which he orders Berkowitz to beef up the movie's T&A factor, are priceless.

Huppert's performance leans a bit heavily on the moist-in-the-eyes motif, but it's terrific none-the-less.

The superficially cheery “Boogie Nights” is infinitely scarier.

Attempting to force the story into a romantic comedy template compels Marshall to gloss over the disturbing aspects his characters' disabilities, frequently forcing Ribisi and Lewis to act the part of noble fools.

Even if it doesn't up live to its inspired beginning, Mike Judge scores something with all the marks of a workplace cult classic with his first big-screen, live-action outing.

The film's most fully realized performance is Chris Cooper's.

The movie's gossamer-thin plot, padded with dream sequences and flashbacks to scenes you saw less than an hour earlier, exists only as an excuse for obvious homages to better films, stunt casting...and what pass for clever remarks in circles unfamiliar with real wit.

This bizarre hybrid of romantic comedy cliches and less-than-subtle social commentary defeats their best efforts to make it sparkle.

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.

Based on a goofy '60s TV series and aimed squarely at vulgar 10-year-olds (and inner vulgar 10 year olds), this sappy comedy is relatively harmless and occasionally serves up a funny bit.

Though glossy and smoothly directed, this limp concoction has all the sparkle of flat champagne.

It careens from coarse comedy to smart-ass stylization to vicious violence without ever becoming convincing on any level.

A pale imitation of the John Cassavettes original.

The situations Carroll devises are perfectly controlled but dramatically void.

For all the tear-jerking plot twists, it's a glumly dry-eyed affair.

The script, based on a Dark Horse comic-book series, is hugely predictable, but the robot effects by veteran Phil Tippett are nastily entertaining.

This coming-of-age drama scores big points for trying to honestly tell a story rather than just pass the time.

An intensely internalized portrait of external pandemonium, a slippery, insidiously haunting work of poetry rather than brilliantly realized pulp.

Campy hogwash.

Caustic and despairing, Shrader's film lacks the delicate beauty of Atom Agoyan's "Sweet Hereafter," but has just as much bitter power.

First-time feature director Tucker displays an astonishingly assured touch, allowing his phenomenal cast to creep into their characters' skins and surrounding them with images of shimmering and slightly threatening beauty.

Exactly the kind of sporadically clever, button-pushing fright-fest that keeps genre fans hanging on until something more fulfilling comes along.