Charles Savage

The best scenes in the movie belong to James Belushi.

For a movie that's all about camouflage, this sketch comedy epilogue turns out to be its most creative disguise: a thin coating of humor slapped on an otherwise ponderous film.

How High is not a particularly good movie, but then again it's not trying to be. It's a project by two B-list rappers seeking to extend their music careers in the way of stars like Will Smith, Ice Cube and Tupac Shakur.

An exhilarating visualization of Alexandre Dumas' classic novel of betrayal and vengeance.

XXX may be a celebration of jock culture stupidity, but it's also guaranteed not to produce any ZZZ's.

In the end, for all its auto-erotic flair, Gone in 60 Seconds is missing a money shot.

Whether his character is happy, sad, angry or scared, Spade affects precisely the same knowing smirk and sarcastic delivery. This one-note style makes him a funny stand-up comedian. But in a role, it's usually pure amateur hour.

The creative vigor of its originality, distilled in a pure and unadulterated form, is simply exhilarating.

The result is less an examination of the porn industry than it is a portrait of Jeremy's own humanity, with all its quirks and eccentricities.

The cleverness begins and ends at the basic fact that it is being done. Really, it would be much more fun just to rent one of the originals.

Anyone who wants to enjoy himself at a good movie about a high school geek who undergoes a transformation should go see "'Spider-Man" again instead.

While there is archival value in permanently recording this work on celluloid, the best way to really enjoy it remains live on stage.

May be among the most excruciating mainstream movies to spew forth from Hollywood in years.

What makes this documentary worth seeing is the sensational courtside footage taken with IMAX cameras, which bring a whole new way of seeing the game to fans who don't get to sit in Jack Nicholson's section.

Pseudo-profound fluff.

This utter waste of time has next-to-nothing to do with the infinitely wittier golden-age National Lampoon movies.

The formulaic movie would be forgettable but inoffensive if it were anyone else posing for blue screen CGI effects.

Has some very funny moments, it is weighed down by gooey sentimentality.

It's hard to connect with long minutes of self-pity by a temporarily has-been celebrity.

Belongs to that genre of movie that works hard to achieve a certain twisted and demented wit.

A stark regression from the intelligence of the Scream franchise, this teen horror sequel is about as satisfying as low-budget food that's been under the heat lamps too long.

A sad and rote exercise in milking a played-out idea -- a straight guy has to dress up in drag -- that shockingly manages to be even worse than its title would imply.

Even without handicapping for the limitations of its gentle genre, the film has moments of whimsical humor and thoughtful plotting that soar tantalizingly close to something that could be enjoyed on its own merits.

The Hollywood action genre, sliding into a lazy dependence on computer-generated fakery, needs this authentic kick to the head delivered by Jet Li.

When one actor plays both hero and villain, the viewer knows that what is being shown is not an authentic dance.

Action and comedy are more impressive here than in the first film.

Though this film can be clumsy, its ambitions are equally -- and admirably -- uncommercial.

The kind of stupid-funny movie that should only be seen in a crowded theater.