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Teaching Mrs. Tingle an ugly, failed attempt to pull off a Heathers - style, teen - oriented black comedy.

Depressing!

Flash: There is intelligent life in outer space. More, anyway, than in this amiable footnote of a movie.

It can't hope to compete with Kubrick, but if you can distance Peter Hyams's picture from its formidable forerunner, you'll find a thoughtful and sometimes unforgettable science-fiction fable.

Exquisite, a near-perfect blend of action, romance, fantasy and philosophy, finely acted and beautifully filmed by director John Boorman and cinematographer Alex Thomson.

For all its audacity, a misguided folly.

A thriller stripped of thrills -- or, even worse, a thriller that thinks of itself as somehow rising above the vulgar pleasures of excitement.

An intriguing but dramatically stunted psychological thriller about a kidnapping.

An innocent comic exercise, fueled more on charm than titillation.

Amiable enough as a frothy entertainment, with darker overtones rendered with emotional effectiveness.

A crucial turning point, the link between Visconti's early neorealist manner and the obsessive stylization of his late films.

Adams would be pleased.

The problem is not that the film debases the book but that movies themselves are too capacious a home for such comedy, with its tea-steeped English musings and its love of bitty, tangential gags.

We're left with something gorgeous, turgid, and emotionally impenetrable -- less a movie, more an Imax screensaver.

Any kids' film that features owl zombies, Hitler Youth-esque adversaries and an opening fifteen minutes that evokes Pier Paolo Pasolini's Salo deserves credit for being ballsy.

Readers who want to exercise their imaginations may prefer to stick to the written word. If a story gets boring, you can always skip a few pages and move on. In the cinema there isn't much choice.

The message is so muddied by the film's dizzying changes in pitch and tone that a lot of young readers aren't going to know what to think.

It's really a story about the romance of newspapers and a good one - part of a tradition that goes all the way back to Ben Hecht and The Front Page. It may also mark the genre's end.

The film held me a fair way in, because it's well paced and the actors are competent. But finally, the plot took one or two big twists too far.

Thumbs down to a movie of such vile and violent temper.

Gosh, it's almost too bad/good to be true.

The latest urban fairy tale from Pretty Woman's Marshall sees the director continue his descent into underwritten schmaltz at the expense of genuine wit and warmth.

This isn't funny enough or dramatic enough.