Although a literal movie adaptation of Seuss' 1957 classic "The Cat in the Hat" might have run 20 minutes, is it too much to ask that the filmed material preserve the author's sensibility?

It may entertain you if you don't mind senseless stories and screaming soundtracks.

It's a juicy premise, but the enactment is so dumbed-down -- by turns preposterous and predictable -- that you couldn't possibly fault your jaded children for yawning and rolling their eyes.

It's a real shame that most new boxing movies try to copy the crowd-pleasing, sentiment-choked tactics of "Rocky" rather than the stark drama of "Raging Bull" or the realistic grit of "On the Waterfront" and "The Harder They Fall." Against the Ropes is only the latest sorry example. The sad thing is that, with this real-life story and subject, it could have been a contender.

The upside is that they're likable and play well together...The downside is that they're all still communicating roughly the same message, which lies somewhere between a wink and a nudge.

It's a movie, and certain liberties are bound to be taken, but having Derek stop a moped-driving Brit on the street by pulling out some sort of identification and yelling, "CIA, I need your moped!" is not the way.

Despite a big budget, lots of technical flair and a good cast headed by Sarah Polley and Ving Rhames, it's mostly a bloody mess.

It's one of those movies where talented filmmakers waste time with stale, phony material.

Envy is a shaggy dog-poop story that'll make you wish you could spray something at the screen to make it disappear.

Stiller, a DodgeBall producer, is revealing an unfortunate craving for the cheese of his childhood.

Some film premises are so outlandish, so thinly worked out and so deep-down ridiculous that they wind up sinking the show -- and White Chicks collapses under a real doozy.

Of all the teen performers out there, Duff has to be the blandest (especially since the Olsens hit the skids).

Sweet-tempered but superficial.

It's a murky, empty-headed dive into the depths of the Antarctic and the heart of monster movie cliches that leaves you praying for most of the cast to get killed off fast, to put them (and us) out of our misery.

Shallow and repetitive.

Led by a trio of dumb, dumber and dumbest, Without a Paddle is a testosterone comedy that might just as well be titled "Without a Brain Cell."

Even if the movie's only goal is to preach to the choir, its fondness for hyperbole and lack of discernment is more insult than rallying cry.

It's a glossy, well-mounted, slickly done but almost stuporously predictable affair, both formula-bound and utterly illogical.

John Waters is back with this awfully bawdy, never sexy, rarely funny, actually boring, one-note sex comedy.

A well-intentioned, ill-conceived blip of a movie that just happens to star two of the most esteemed actors of our time--Michael Caine and Christopher Walken.

Phony, disingenuous family entertainment, suffocated by its green bean casserole approach to Middle America, spineless cardboard characters and paper-thin plot "twists."

This clunky remake can't rise from the ashes, nor would you want it to.

Fairly well done but deadly dull futuristic thriller.

The sequel is about nothing more profound than an awkward teenager's desire for a really cute boyfriend. [12 March 1999, Friday, p.N]

In making a movie that preaches love for odd ducks, Schumacher has turned Flawless into the oddest duck of all.

A flabbergasting waste of time and talent.

Degenerates into a slow-moving game of connect-the-gross-outs.

Sluggish and preposterous, full of violence and cliches.