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Mama Africa pretty much delivers on that promise.

We hate (Madonna) within the film's first five minutes, and she lacks the skill or presence to regain any ground.

Much smarter and more attentive than it first sets out to be.

One regards Reign of Fire with awe.

It's tough to tell which is in more abundant supply in this woefully hackneyed movie, directed by Scott Kalvert, about street gangs and turf wars in 1958 Brooklyn -- stale cliches, gratuitous violence, or empty machismo.

The story is also as unoriginal as they come, already having been recycled more times than I'd care to count.

You've already seen City by the Sea under a variety of titles, but it's worth yet another visit.

In one scene, we get a stab at soccer hooliganism, a double-barreled rip-off of Quentin Tarantino's climactic shootout -- and Meat Loaf explodes.

is the kind of movie that's critic-proof, simply because it aims so low.

To the civilized mind, a movie like Ballistic: Ecks Vs. Sever is more of an ordeal than an amusement.

A different movie -- sometimes tedious -- by a director many viewers would like to skip but film buffs should get to know.

My precious new Star Wars movie is a lumbering, wheezy drag...

A dull, simple-minded and stereotypical tale of drugs, death and mind-numbing indifference on the inner-city streets.

Throw Smoochy from the train!

An alternately raucous and sappy ethnic sitcom...you'd be wise to send your regrets.

None of this is half as moving as the filmmakers seem to think.

The heedless impetuousness of youth is on full, irritating display in (this) meandering and pointless French coming-of-age import from writer-director Anne-Sophie Birot.

A low-budget affair, Tadpole was shot on digital video, and the images often look smeary and blurry, to the point of distraction.

Irwin is so earnest that it's hard to resist his pleas to spare wildlife and respect their environs.

A miraculous movie, I'm Going Home is so slight, yet overflows with wisdom and emotion.

The story's pathetic and the gags are puerile.

Showtime isn't particularly assaultive, but it can still make you feel that you never want to see another car chase, explosion or gunfight again.

By the final whistle you're convinced that this Mean Machine was a decent TV outing that just doesn't have big screen magic.

First, for a movie that tries to be smart, it's kinda dumb.

And people make fun of me for liking Showgirls.

...the story simply putters along looking for astute observations and coming up blank.

It has a caffeinated, sloppy brilliance, sparkling with ideas you wish had been developed with more care, but animated by an energy that puts the dutiful efforts of more disciplined grade-grubbers to shame.

If you're not deeply touched by this movie, check your pulse.

Whether it's the worst movie of 2002, I can't say for sure: Memories of Rollerball have faded, and I skipped Country Bears.

Children, Christian or otherwise, deserve to hear the full story of Jonah's despair -- in all its agonizing, Catch-22 glory -- even if they spend years trying to comprehend it.

Muccino, who directed from his own screenplay, is a canny crowd pleaser, and The Last Kiss ... provides more than enough sentimental catharsis for a satisfying evening at the multiplex.

Has a solid emotional impact.

Dogtown is hollow, self-indulgent, and - worst of all - boring.

The Sweetest Thing leaves a bitter taste.

One of those films that seems tailor made to air on pay cable to offer some modest amusements when one has nothing else to watch.

Has enough wit, energy and geniality to please not only the fanatical adherents on either side, but also people who know nothing about the subject and think they're not interested.

Lawrence should stick to his day job.

By turns numbingly dull-witted and disquietingly creepy.

Buy is an accomplished actress, and this is a big, juicy role.

Maid in Manhattan proves that it's easier to change the sheets than to change hackneyed concepts when it comes to dreaming up romantic comedies.

Thought-provoking and stylish, if also somewhat hermetic.

A cleverly crafted but ultimately hollow mockumentary.

Jacquot has filmed the opera exactly as the libretto directs, ideally capturing the opera's drama and lyricism.

The misery of these people becomes just another voyeuristic spectacle, to be consumed and forgotten.

From a deceptively simple premise, this deeply moving French drama develops a startling story that works both as a detailed personal portrait and as a rather frightening examination of modern times.

Unexpected, and often contradictory, truths emerge.

Has the capability of effecting change and inspiring hope.

Even if you're an Elvis person, you won't find anything to get excited about on this DVD.

Together writer-director Danny Verete's three tales comprise a powerful and reasonably fulfilling gestalt.

Writer/director Walter Hill is in his hypermasculine element here, once again able to inject some real vitality and even art into a pulpy concept that, in many other hands would be completely forgettable.

Goldbacher draws on an elegant visual sense and a talent for easy, seductive pacing ... but she and writing partner Laurence Coriat don't manage an equally assured narrative coinage.

The script is smart and dark - hallelujah for small favors.

Even though we know the outcome, the seesawing of the general's fate in the arguments of competing lawyers has the stomach-knotting suspense of a legal thriller, while the testimony of witnesses lends the film a resonant undertone of tragedy.

You're not merely watching history, you're engulfed by it.

I am more offended by his lack of faith in his audience than by anything on display here.

We're drawn in by the dark luster.

The darker elements of misogyny and unprovoked violence suffocate the illumination created by the two daughters and the sparse instances of humor meant to shine through the gloomy film noir veil.

It's not a great monster movie.

It's a lovely, sad dance highlighted by Kwan's unique directing style.

It's so downbeat and nearly humorless that it becomes a chore to sit through -- despite some first-rate performances by its lead.

The all-French cast is marveilleux.

If the title is a Jeopardy question, then the answer might be "How does Steven Seagal come across these days?"

The Emperor's Club, ruthless in its own placid way, finds one of our most conservative and hidebound movie-making traditions and gives it new texture, new relevance, new reality.

That Storytelling has value cannot be denied.

The whole thing comes off like a particularly amateurish episode of Bewitched that takes place during Spring Break.

It's hard to believe that something so short could be so flabby.

It establishes its ominous mood and tension swiftly, and if the suspense never rises to a higher level, it is nevertheless maintained throughout.

Solondz may well be the only one laughing at his own joke

Deep intelligence and a warm, enveloping affection breathe out of every frame.

Swinging, the film makes it seem, is not a hobby that attracts the young and fit.

There's a reason why halftime is only fifteen minutes long.

Winds up being both revelatory and narcissistic, achieving some honest insight into relationships that most high-concept films candy-coat with pat storylines, precious circumstances and beautiful stars.

In its own floundering way, it gets to you.

Behind the glitz, Hollywood is sordid and disgusting.

This mild-mannered farce, directed by one of its writers, John C. Walsh, is corny in a way that bespeaks an expiration date passed a long time ago.

With very little to add beyond the dark visions already relayed by superb recent predecessors like Swimming With Sharks and The Player, this latest skewering ... may put off insiders and outsiders alike.

Significantly better than its 2002 children's-movie competition.

This is an elegantly balanced movie -- every member of the ensemble has something fascinating to do -- that doesn't reveal even a hint of artifice.

Cox creates a fluid and mesmerizing sequence of images to match the words of Nijinsky's diaries.

With the exception of McCoist, the players don't have a clue on the park.

No amount of good acting is enough to save Oleander's uninspired story.

Everyone's to blame here.

Evokes the 19th century with a subtlety that is an object lesson in period filmmaking.

An odd, haphazard, and inconsequential romantic comedy.

...another example of how Sandler is losing his touch.

An awful lot like one of (Spears') music videos in content -- except that it goes on for at least 90 more minutes and, worse, that you have to pay if you want to see it.

Stale and clichéd to a fault.

... built on the premise that middle-class Arkansas consists of monster truck-loving good ol' boys and peroxide blond honeys whose worldly knowledge comes from TV reruns and supermarket tabloids.

Zellweger's whiny pouty-lipped poof faced and spindly attempt at playing an ingenue makes her nomination as best actress even more of a an a

Holofcener rejects patent solutions to dramatize life's messiness from inside out, in all its strange quirks.

I still want my money back.

No one involved, save Dash, shows the slightest aptitude for acting, and the script, credited to director Abdul Malik Abbott and Ernest 'Tron' Anderson, seems entirely improvised.

It's the kind of effectively creepy-scary thriller that has you fixating on a far corner of the screen at times because your nerves just can't take it any more.

Narratively, Trouble Every Day is a plodding mess.

Well-done supernatural thriller with keen insights into parapsychological phenomena and the soulful nuances of the grieving process.

If there's no art here, it's still a good yarn -- which is nothing to sneeze at these days.

The cumulative effect of watching this 65-minute trifle is rather like being trapped while some weird relative trots out the video he took of the family vacation to Stonehenge.

Its sheer dynamism is infectious.

The film is reasonably entertaining, though it begins to drag two-thirds through, when the melodramatic aspects start to overtake the comedy.

Simultaneously heart-breaking and very funny, The Last Kiss is really all about performances.