Mark Caro

My Father, the Hero isn't just a one-joke movie, but believe it or not, that's by far the best joke. [4 Feb 1994, p.K]

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

By re-imagining a pivotal, terrible 24 hours, Greengrass has made a must-see film that is timely - and timeless.

Leans on just as many stereotypes as it tweaks.

The more you learn, the more questions you have about life in that Great Neck house. Leo Tolstoy wrote that "every unhappy family is unhappy in its own fashion," but not even he could have invented the Friedmans.

That it's got a positive message may strike some as decidedly not "edgy" -- but they should be too busy stomping their feet to notice.

While the movie's heroes lay everything on the line, Miracle is too content to skate along the surface.

The absurd meets the violent meets the droll, and we just watch from the outside, never having been drawn in by anything resembling believable feelings or behavior.

Striptease has its moments, but by the clunky ending it has gathered more steaminess than steam.

It's rare to see a movie that takes such joy in the power of words, not to create lofty works of art but to effect the simple, necessary translation of what's in one's heart and mind.

Isn't exactly a good movie, but it turns out not to be bad, either. It's a romantic comedy that strains to be screwball but at least is likable.

Jovovich and Krause are as photogenic and blandly naive as their predecessors, and their ultimate commingling is, if anything, even tamer than in the original. Veteran television-movie director William A. Graham and screenwriter Leslie Stevens have fashioned a 98-minute tropical vacation ad. [02 Aug 1991, p.B]

Now that Smith has gotten these characters and jokes out of his system, here's hoping he can turn to material that doesn't require winking at the audience.

There's good pulp and bad pulp, and for most of its duration, Joy Ride is quality stuff.

They're a ragtag assembly for sure, and the results aren't pretty. But on a simple mission of entertainment, they get the job done.

This clear-eyed, low-budget drama is populated by troubled teens whose stories aren’t packaged in neat little bows. Their histories are sad, their feelings raw, their futures uncertain.

It's funny, moving and true, and it respects the audience's intelligence as much as the characters'. That combination, no matter the movie's label, deserves to be treasured.

Evans and Kelleher could have used the same premise to tell a different story -- one in which viewers could relate to some of the perks of being First Kid instead of just the inconveniences. Luke could show kids a more exciting world. [30 Aug 1996, p.C]

If Intermission isn't profound, it's got boisterous humor and energy, with U2's rollicking "Out of Control" leading the charge. Given the grimness of many Irish tales, Intermission represents less of a pause than a burst into a fresh direction.

The movie leaves us with the image of rich folks frantically dancing the Charleston because if they stop, they'll have nothing. The point is as untrue as it is simplistic.

Plays more like a gritty, episodic British independent film powered by a soundtrack of Who songs that illuminate the main character's turbulent emotions.

It's not naughty. It's nice. Naughty is funnier.

Yet the movie's no stinker. Like their video-game counterparts, co-stars Bob Hoskins and John Leguizamo somehow manage to weave their way past threatening obstacles and escape with their dignity.

This Civil War epic romance is exquisitely shot, lovingly designed and populated with talented name actors. In terms of pedigree and sheer, lush filmmaking, the movie has class written all over it. And that's part of the problem.

For a movie that begins so intriguingly, Boiler Room becomes boilerplate all too quickly.

This movie thrusts you so close to these intoxicated idiots that you practically have to wipe off secondhand tequila, sweat and spit stains afterward.

In Uptown Girls Murphy is like a puppy in traffic; you're confident she'll reach the curb but only because the cars are swerving, not because her moves are so deft.

First-time director Rachel Talalay and writer Michael DeLuca provide nothing but clumsily played stock characters who fail to earn the sympathy necessary for a stand-up-and-cheer conclusion. [15 Sept 1991, p.C6]