Robert K. Elder

The "Showgirls" of superhero movies. This is not a compliment. A vacuous lingerie show posing as feminism, it's the biggest movie hairball this side of "Garfield."

Though trailers for Little Black Book try to sell it as a zany romantic comedy, don't judge this book by its cover. Those who stick with it will be surprised and maybe even laugh in between a tear or two.

Might be best described as Thailand's version of "The Alamo."

Ends strong, in an ultimately smoother, smarter sequel.

If Estes' future efforts can offer us such potent, character-centered Molotov cocktails, Mean Creek may well signal the rise of America's next auteur director.

With 20 additional minutes of screen time, the director's cut of Richard Kelly's genre-splicing "Donnie Darko" offers new viewers a second chance to discover his mind-bending masterwork.

Belongs to that brand of sweeping, conflict-era drama epitomized by "Saving Private Ryan," "Gone with the Wind" and TV miniseries "North and South."

Might be justified as "mindless fun" if it weren't for the acute lack of fun in its 93 minutes.

Commits the cardinal sin of not being quite as funny as its star.

It's a dense, winding tale with all of Sayles' razor-sharp dialogue and intrigue. But instead of tracing character paths, Sayles sacrifices solid storytelling in favor of forwarding a political (and environmental) ideology.

Like "Blade Runner," it's dense enough to be rewarding on multiple viewings, the hallmark of a classic.

A gleefully gory, pitch-perfect parody of George Romero's zombie films. But this isn't a movie about other movies. Shaun of the Dead stands on its own.

Jakes' characters are points to be made, flesh and blood cautionary tales that don't particularly feel human. His dialogue, even in the mouths of Michelle and her troubled mother, sounds as if it comes straight from the pulpit.

Worst of all, though, is the movie's moral maneuvering.

Riddled with comic potholes.

Team America's strengths are in its musical numbers, especially Kim Jong Il's mournful "I'm So Ronery" (translation: "Lonely"), a heartfelt peek into the dictator's soul.

Shackles its characters with stale dialogue straight out of decades-old Sgt. Rock comic books.

Miniatures in The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, created by Ray Harryhausen, may appear at first glance to be worlds away from the CGI creatures in The Phantom Menace and Jurassic Park. But it was Harryhausen's work that taught such filmmakers as George Lucas and Steven Spielberg to dream of creating ever-more-perfect fantasy worlds. [22 Feb 2008, p.C2]

A master of atmosphere, Japanese director Takashi Shimizu leads his audience along on a celluloid leash to his pitch-black attic of horror, inviting each hair on the back of your neck to stand up.

Wan's tense, grisly cinematic morsel won't go down easy. But once it hits bottom, Saw is oddly satisfying, though the gag reflex never entirely goes away.

Sizzles for a half-hour, then fizzles.

Overnight's only narrative hole is an inability to pinpoint why Miramax stonewalled him.

So dark and dirge-like are its first 85 minutes that a few uplifting minutes at the end can't dissipate the somber cloud Noel summons.

If only Bad Education engaged the heart as much as the head, Almodovar's fractured tale might have risen above its alienating noir conventions.

Infusion of comedy elements keeps the story light, without dragging it into the cartoonish.

A talented craftsman of dark raillery, Day and his fixation on Hollywood melodrama are indulged to delicious effect in his sophomore effort.

Thankfully, Reynolds (bearded, looking a bit like Jason Lee) adds some scrappiness and humor to a series that might otherwise have collapsed under self-parody.

Exceptionally clever, hilariously gloomy and bitingly subversive.