In this task, you are given product reviews about dvds. The goal is to classify the review as "POS" if the overall sentiment of the review is positive(the reviewer is satisfied) or as "NEG" if the overall sentiment of the review is negative(the reviewer is not satisfied).

[EX Q]: Dracula lives . I think this movie is great. The plot is so different from the others. I realy like this movie.
[EX A]: POS

[EX Q]: SUCKS. . Garbage. They tweaked it in every place that didn't need tweaking. Straker is no longer bald, Matt Burke is no longer caucasion, and now he's gay. The bus driver is now a vietnam vet instead of korea. In this adaptation, Ben Mears was the kid who found the bodies of Hubie Marsten and his wife. The story begins in winter instead of late summer. Ralphie Glick doesn't just go missing, he's drowned in an icey pond. Instead of Ben Mears coming to town and finding the Marsten house already sold, Crockett has already promised it to Mears, but now he's renegged and sold it out from under him. I don't see the point. They didn't just change the story, they didn't leave anything intact. It's bad. It's unwatchable, especially if you loved the book. None of the characters have Maine accents... Hmm. Could it have been filmed in... oh I dunno... AUSTRALIA PERHAPS?
[EX A]: NEG

[EX Q]: The importance of not being too earnest... . I really wanted to like this film.  It hurts not to recommend it, because the subject matter is extraordinary and compelling: a once-in-a-lifetime night in American theater that happened during the Great Depression.  And Tim Robbins' heart is in the right place.  But great intentions don't make a great film, and unfortunately, that's the case here.  Robbins tries to do a multiple-character loose plot that makes one think of Robert Altman.  In fact, watching Cradle Will Rock, you realize just how good Altman is, because he makes this sort of thing look so effortless (so much so that detractors have often accused him of "not really directing" his pictures).  Well, to quote the late senator Lloyd Bentsen: Tim Robbins, you're no Bob Altman.    The film has an impressive cast list.  Unfortunately, almost everyone overacts (or is overdirected by Robbins, since these actors have turned in other fine performances).  Particular violators are Cary Ewles as John Houseman and Angus Macfadyen as Orson Welles.  Both seem to channel Nathan Lane in their over-the-top elocution and both as directed by Robbins turn every showbiz cliche in the book, such as bickering pettily and then, when they reach an agreement over something, jumping up and down and shouting "Eureka!" while hugging.  Other hams include Ruben Blades as painter Diego Rivera and, surprisingly, the normally spot-on Susan Sarandon as Mussolini's art-living mistress.  (With her over-bearing accent she sounds more like Count Dracula's mistress.)  Other cliched characters include doe-eyed Emily Watson as a shy waif who never gets a break in life until, of course, the last scene.    There's also a strange sideplot involving Bill Murray (okay, he does not overact; *can* Bill Murray overact?) as a washed-up ventriloquist.  This started off promising, with him attending secret meetings sponsored by alienated conservatives who see the times changing in ways that make them uncomfortable, but it really went nowhere in my opinion.  Conversly, the third (third!) major plotline, about Nelson Rockefeller commissioning Rivera to paint a mural in his new building, went predictably where we'd expect, and was way too drawn out in the film's ending.  Oddly, for a screenplay that cried out for lots of oddball, nonconformist characters, no lines and little face time are given Corina Katt Ayala as Frida Kahlo--who in real life was quite a character who could have been put to better use here.  Also underused is the always-reliable Bob Balaban.  Hank Azaria is okay as the playwright, but the whole surreal bits that happen whenever he has a scene to write or perform strike me as Robbins trying to be arty and "profound."    The one standout performance is by Cherry Jones, wonderful as Hallie Flanagan.  Her warm and very natural performance just throws into high relief how forced and phony most of the rest of the cast is.  Even here, though, Robbins misses the point.  The high moment comes when Balaban shakes her into reality after the Congressional hearings and tells her "It's over."  That could have been the beginning of a big dramatic scene, but Robbins glosses over it for a phony and smug mock-interrogation in the court chambers--preaching to us like we're third graders who can't be trusted to figure it out ourselves.  Similarly, the walk down the street to the second theater that begins the climax could have been a big dramatic moment--what will be the fate of this controversial play, and the actors who have rehearsed it for months?  Instead Robbins gives us a victory dance before the victory--a parade of jugglers, acrobats and cha-cha dancers set to comical klezmer music that undermines what he's just set up.  We feel a satisfaction and--I hate to keep using this word but it's true--smugness, before the big night even happens.  And I'll leave it to you to decide the effectiveness--and the ultimate meaning--of the very last shot.  I still haven't decided if it works, but it was a bold idea.    Another big part of what sinks this movie is the hammy score.  It may seem piddling to talk about background music, but it really breaks the movie.  The music was done by David Robbins--Tim's brother.  Nepotism rears its ugly head.  Robbins' music is usually inappropriate--slapstick and overly broad like the rest of the film's elements, as though Robbins doesn't trust us to follow him and feels he has to drive home his message with power tools.  Yet despite the constant heavy-handedness, Cradle Will Rock never finds its tone--part history lesson, part "serious drama," part broadsided "comedy," it can't ultimately decide if it wants to hit you in the head with a hammer or in the face with a pie.  It tries both by the end, and neither works.    Ultimately, I felt like Robbins couldn't get a distance from his material.  He lectures us to the point that the word MESSAGE in bright red practically flashes on the screen.  Understatement is not in his bag of tricks.  It's not that I disagree with much of what he has to say, but he fairly hits you over the head with it, and acts as though he's the first one to show you upper-class hypocracy.  The one really interesting plot thread--about how the Hallie Flanagans of the world were called before the House UnAmerican Committee to defend their loyalty while the Hearsts of America appeased dictators by buying art from them (and thereby financing their fascism)--is the highlight of the film.  But even here Robbins stages a garish costume party to drive home the point and again whips out the power tools.  Tim, we get it.    Despite this negative review, the film might be interesting to see just for the fascinating history lesson that it is.  Or you could go online or to a library and find some nonfiction material on the subject matter.  I read somewhere that originally none other than Orson Welles himself was set to make this film, but the deal never got off the ground and then he died.  That's too bad.  I would like to have seen what he could have done with this material.  As it is, Robbins is too close to it--too loud, too preachy, too self-righteous--to pull it off.
[EX A]:
NEG