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Everything you've ever hated about American teenagers, their music, money, fashion sense, their values, and most of all their pin-ups, in one auto-destructive movie.

Anyone old enough to have a license is probably much too old to be amused by License to Drive.

This is the link between Allen's "earlier, funnier" stuff and more probing works like Interiors and Manhattan. Would that we all could build such masterful bridges.

In Annie Hall, Allen again writes, directs and stars with Diane Keaton in a remarkable recreation of a spent love affair, which is both sad and hysterically funny.

It is a rare feat to make a sequel better than its predecessor but here Sonnenfeld manages to do just that.

Like the first of the Addams chronicles, this is an essentially lazy movie, too often settling for easy gags and special effects that don't come to any really funny point.

A tough-talking, sparely directed effort by Hal Ashby, with an immaculate performance by Jack Nicholson.

Relentless, profane, cynical and bitterly funny, this still ranks among the best work by Nicholson and Ashby. An exhilarating trip from start to finish.

It can't decide what it wants to be -- slasher fest, social satire or revenge comedy -- and ends up being an awkward goulash.

It doesn't offer a single moment of visceral or emotional electricity.

Film is so formulaic that virtually every plot point is telegraphed way in advance.

This is a film that misses the boat right from the start through an improper mixture of fools.