The Lake House is made of glass, but the view straight through it is rather pleasant all the same.

May prove to be the feel-good movie of the year...the only problem is that we can't enjoy the live performances in their entirety.

You know, I don't remember the fart and pee jokes in The Wizard of Oz or the old Disney classics or the Muppet movies. Crotch-biting, of course, comes from a long tradition. Hmm.

A bit like staring at a beauty queen's phonily tight smile for ninety minutes.

Josh Gilbert's smoothly produced documentary a/k/a Tommy Chong should leave even Nancy Reagan aghast at the unfair trials of comedian Tommy Chong.

Cipriano and...Cuesta (L.I.E.) show realism, tender regard, and the benefit of the doubt for their young characters, but little of the same to their childish parents.

Haneke's exploration of willful ignorance, guilt, and history takes hold, and doesn't quite let go when the lights come up.

A nutty, fictional ode-elegy to a show that's still going strong, A Prairie Home Companion offers a unique hybrid of a folksy American showman and an improvisatory impresario.

a fresh bid for indie-thriller cred....[but] watching Gamazon and Dela Llana charge through their limitations is a bit like watching a sprinter run in clogs.

Even if Cars isn't the studio's champion outing, Pixar continues to run on all cylinders.

If you've never seen The Omen, the technically well-made remake is an effective chiller a cut above today's standard, but if you have, there's no reason to watch this rote replay.

As usual, Antonioni's pace is langorous, but The Passenger is never less than compelling.

[An] inspirational tale, which values team spirit even as it celebrates the will of two talented individuals.

Miraculously fresh after seven seasons on the air, Frasier continued to spin complicated farcical situations and....expertly brought the Daphne-Niles relationship to a boil.

At least one draft short of brilliance....[but] more palatable than the typical romantic comedy, thanks in large part to Vaughn's engaging duets with the ensemble.

Definitely propaganda on an issue that remains divisive....[but] Even if Gore is wrong, and I'm not saying he is, his proposed solutions are common-sensibly sound.

The 'free spirited innocent' archetype doesn't convincingly share residence with this numbly sexual Lolita.

[Not] very amusing--its stabs at humor are low-key to a fault, and too sporadic--but it is mostly truthful about yuppie love, and that's something.

Arguably, the more satisfying elements of the series were its miniaturized sitcom elements, which in their way did The Bob Newhart Show one better in their low-key, true-to-life ramblings.

Cave uses the taming of Australia as the backdrop for a nasty, dirty western about the implications of violence.

Served up a solid-gold sitcom character in Silvers' conniving Master Sergeant Ernest G. Bilko.

Amateur Hour-and-a-Half....It isn't fit for human consumption.

The alpha sitcom of the fifties and forever more, I Love Lucy went out, without ceremony, at the top of the ratings heap.

Fatally short on laughs. The jokes are mostly bad vaudeville, as when Piven asks, "How much for 50 Cent? Okay, how about 17 Cent?"

The voice work and animation are both a cut above the average, and the film's energy is brisk.

It's bad news when a Bruckheimer movie makes one downright nostalgic for The Rock...

Late Spring exemplifies Ozu's rich, mature style, an apparent stylelessness of patient, lifelike rhythms, unobtrusive camerawork, and credibly subtle performances.

Wenders bops around Tokyo with the assurance of a skilled filmmaker, and emerges with an understated but certainly curious sociological postcard of '80s Tokyo.

The sixth season proved there was still life in the now-classic sitcom...[and] Knotts shows up in an Emmy-winning return appearance.

[The] soft-glowing facade always seems more real to Ivory than harsh reality...represent[s] our own attempts to stave off reality with the romantic projections of cinema.

There's camp, and there's just plain lousy writing.

Musical...handsome...poignantly nostalgic...The Lost City is a lot of things, but what it's not is incisive.

Obvious...All [but soccer fanatics] can pass on Goal! The Dream Begins and make plans now to avoid its two upcoming sequels.

On more than one occasion...a girl scrapes her fingernails across a wood floor as an invisible poltergeist attacks her. The wood floor may not be a chalkboard, but it's close enough.

Why does the new Lindsay Lohan picture have such a poo fixation?....Could it be that director Donald Petrie is Freudian slipping on his s**tty material?

Zwigoff too often picks up his putty knife when he should be running with scissors...doesn't quite add up to the sum of its parts, but some of the parts are pretty amusing all the same.

Jimmy Buffet may be known for his Hawaiian shirts, but there's something undeniably plaid about Hoot.

A thrill ride, and a gripping one: plausibility-straining, predictable at times, but pulse-pounding all the same.

Detailed and graced with irreverent humor and fine performances, Mehta's film deals powerful blows to economic injustice and misogyny.

Garry Marshall: 'Jack Klugman always said, "Oh, Felix and I make up too easy. Make it harder, make it difficult. Make him really not let [me] in." And that's what we did in Keeping Up With the Steins.'

Lily Tomlin: 'I had this dream several times once...I was playing on the stage, and it was like--there was a medieval audience...And they were doing everything--talking, drinking, fornicating, everything--in the audience...'

Andy Garcia: 'I think it's the nature of exile: you have this profound nostalgia for where you come from.'

Dramatically jerry-rigged in every possible way.

Too lazy to perfect its own routine...[but] a surprisingly appealing vacation, from sense to sensibility.

Color me surprised when Barry Sonnenfeld's family comedy turned out to be a palatable picture that doesn't rob Robin Williams of his dignity as a comic actor.

A unique film about a unique event...but what will we think of United 93 in five years or, for that matter, fifty?