As a pleasant dose of holiday cheer, The Holiday is a lovable love story with all the Christmas trimmings. In the capable hands of writer-director Nancy Meyers (making her first romantic comedy since Something's Gotta Give), it all begins when two successful yet unhappy women connect through a home-swapping website, and decide to trade houses for the Christmas holiday in a mutual effort to forget their man troubles. Iris (Kate Winslet) is a London-based journalist who lives in a picture-postcard cottage in Surrey, and Amanda (Cameron Diaz) owns a movie-trailer production company (leading her to cutely imagine most of her life as a "coming attraction") and lives in a posh mansion in Beverly Hills. Iris is heartbroken from unrequited love with a cad of a colleague (Rufus Sewell), and Amanda has just broken up with her cheating boyfriend (Edward Burns), so their home-swapping offers mutual downtime to reassess their love lives. This being a Nancy Meyers movie (where everything is fabulously decorated and romantic wish-fulfillment is virtually guaranteed), Amanda hooks up with Iris's charming brother Graham (Jude Law), and Iris is unexpectedly smitten with Miles (Jack Black), a super-nice film composer on the downside of a failing relationship. --Jeff Shannon

Extras from The Holiday

First Look Featurette high bandwidth

Film Clip: "Sushi for Two" high bandwidth

Film Clip: "Oh Brother" high bandwidth

Stills from The Holiday (click for larger image)

Beyond The Holiday on Amazon.com

On Blu-ray

CD Soundtrack

The Films of Nancy Meyers

As the saying goes, Aaron Eckhart was born to play Nick Naylor, the 30-something "voice of Big Tobacco" in this brazen satire of corporate profits and what lobbyists will do to protect them. Right from the opening, Eckhart is in spin mode, turning the tables on a popular talk show when he states health officials want a young teen stricken by cancer to die more than big tobacco does, since the boy would be a martyr to them, but only a single lost customer to the industry. Audiences gasp, panelists guffaw, and the kid happily shakes Nick's hand. The Academy of Tobacco Studies has a colorful array of folks surrounding Nick, including his cantankerous boss (J.K. Simmons) and the Colonel (Robert Duvall), tobacco's undisputed leader. His closet friends are lobbyists for guns (David Koechner) and alcohol (Maria Bello) who discuss their odd businesses over regular lunches, but when a cutie-pie reporter (Katie Holmes) swings into Nick's life, things begin to unravel. Based on Christopher Buckley's even more outlandish novel, Thank You for Smoking is a bright light for the filmgoer tired of gutless films formulated by committee, and first-time filmmaker Jason Reitman has expertly cast the film, which includes deft turns by William H. Macy and Sam Elliot. Nick's son, a throwaway in the novel, becomes a major influence here in Nick's development and a key student of Naylorisms such as, "If you argue correctly, then you're never wrong," though a father and son trip to Hollywood to visit an uber agent (Rob Lowe at his most suave) demonstrates how the inclusion of the son both helps and hurts the film. Book fans will miss the wicked plot turn, but the final result is a sharp and smart comedy deserving of a long, savory drag. --Doug Thomas

Gangs of New York may achieve greatness with the passage of time. Mixed reviews were inevitable for a production this grand (and this troubled behind the scenes), but it's as distinguished as any of director Martin Scorsese's more celebrated New York stories. From its astonishing 1846 prologue to the city's infernal draft riots of 1863, the film aspires to erase the decorum of textbooks and chronicle 19th-century New York as a cauldron of street warfare. The hostility is embodied in a tale of primal vengeance between Irish American son Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his father's ruthless killer and "Nativist" gang leader Bill "the Butcher" Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis, brutally inspired), so named for his lethal talent with knives. Vallon's vengeance is only marginally compelling; DiCaprio is arguably miscast, and Cameron Diaz (as Vallon's pickpocket lover) is adrift in a film with little use for women. Despite these weaknesses, Scorsese's mastery blossoms in his expert melding of personal and political trajectories; this is American history written in blood, unflinching, authentic, and utterly spectacular. --Jeff Shannon

The original cowriter and director of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was Alex Cox, whose earlier film Sid and Nancy suggests that Cox could have been a perfect match in filming Hunter S. Thompson's psychotropic masterpiece of "gonzo" journalism. Unfortunately Cox departed due to the usual "creative differences," and this ill-fated adaptation was thrust upon Terry Gilliam, whose formidable gifts as a visionary filmmaker were squandered on the seemingly unfilmable elements of Thompson's ether-fogged narrative. The result is a one-joke movie without the joke--an endless series of repetitive scenes involving rampant substance abuse and the hallucinogenic fallout of a road trip that's run crazily out of control. Johnny Depp plays Thompson's alter ego, "gonzo" journalist Raoul Duke, and Benicio Del Toro is his sidekick and so-called lawyer Dr. Gonzo. During the course of a trip to Las Vegas to cover a motorcycle race, they ingest a veritable chemistry set of drugs, and Gilliam does his best to show us the hallucinatory state of their zonked-out minds. This allows for some dazzling imagery and the rampant humor of stumbling buffoons, and the mumbling performances of Depp and Del Toro wholeheartedly embrace the tripped-out, paranoid lunacy of Thompson's celebrated book. But over two hours of this insanity tends to grate on the nerves--like being the only sober guest at a party full of drunken idiots. So while Gilliam's film may achieve some modest cult status over the years, it's only because Fear and Loathing is best enjoyed by those who are just as stoned as the characters in the movie. --Jeff Shannon

William Steig's delightfully fractured fairy tale is the right stuff for this computer-animated adaptation full of verve and wit. Our title character (voiced by Mike Myers) is an agreeable enough ogre who wants to live his days in peace. When the diminutive Lord Farquaad (John Lithgow) evicts local fairy-tale creatures (including the now-famous Seven Dwarfs, Pinocchio, and the Gingerbread Man), they settle in the ogre's swamp and Shrek wants answers from Farquaad. A quest of sorts starts for Shrek and his new pal, a talking donkey (Eddie Murphy), where battles have to be won and a princess (Cameron Diaz) must be rescued from a dragon lair in a thrilling action sequence. The story is stronger than most animated fare, but it's the humor that makes Shrek a winner. The PG rating is stretched when Murphy and Myers hit their strides. The mild potty humor is fun enough for 10-year-olds but will never embarrass their parents. Shrek is never as warm and inspired as the Toy Story films, but the realistic computer animation and a rollicking soundtrack keep the entertainment in fine form. Produced by DreamWorks, the film also takes several delicious stabs at its crosstown rival, Disney. --Doug Thomas

The lovably ugly green ogre returns with his green bride and furry, hooved friend in Shrek 2. The newlywed Shrek and Princess Fiona are invited to Fiona's former kingdom, Far Far Away, to have the marriage blessed by Fiona's parents--which Shrek thinks is a bad, bad idea, and he's proved right: The parents are horrified by their daughter's transformation into an ogress, a fairy godmother wants her son Prince Charming to win Fiona, and a feline assassin is hired to get Shrek out of the way. The computer animation is more detailed than ever, but it's the acting that make the comedy work--in addition to the return of Mike Myers, Eddie Murphy, and Cameron Diaz, Shrek 2 features the flexible voices of Julie Andrews (Mary Poppins), John Cleese (Monty Python's Flying Circus), Antonio Banderas (Desperado), and Jennifer Saunders (Absolutely Fabulous) as the gleefully wicked fairy godmother. --Bret Fetzer

In Her Shoes just gets better and better as it goes along. As adapted by Erin Brockovich screenwriter Susannah Grant, this is one of those rare movies that actually improves on its source material (Jennifer Weiner's "chick lit" bestseller), with thoughtful direction by Curtis Hanson, the L.A. Confidential Oscar®-winner who approaches any chosen genre with Hawksian versatility. At first it seems like Weiner's novel might yield a standard melodrama of sibling rivalry, but the polar opposition of smart, plain-looking Philadelphia lawyer Rose (the always-excellent Toni Collette) and her sexy, illiterate, irresponsible sister Maggie (Cameron Diaz) is just the starting point. In Her Shoes becomes a moving, richly developed character study that deals with painful loss, long-term guilt, negative self-image, and the discovery of a heretofore unknown grandmother named Ella (played with delicate nuance by Shirley MacLaine), whose re-entry into the sisters' lives sets the stage for the well-earned emotions of a satisfying reconciliation. As Maggie takes stock of her dismal life while staying with Ella at a Florida "retirement home for active seniors," Hanson never condescends to these likable characters, and never goes for the easy laughs in a setting that could have devolved into Cocoon-like comedy. The movie's all the more endearing for treating its male characters (played by Mark Feuerstein, Ken Howard, and Richard Burgi) with equal depth and sympathy, further enhancing a classy tearjerker that viewers of both genders can thoroughly enjoy. --Jeff Shannon

William Steig's delightfully fractured fairy tale is the right stuff for this computer-animated adaptation full of verve and wit. Our title character (voiced by Mike Myers) is an agreeable enough ogre who wants to live his days in peace. When the diminutive Lord Farquaad (John Lithgow) evicts local fairy-tale creatures (including the now-famous Seven Dwarfs, Pinocchio, and the Gingerbread Man), they settle in the ogre's swamp and Shrek wants answers from Farquaad. A quest of sorts starts for Shrek and his new pal, a talking donkey (Eddie Murphy), where battles have to be won and a princess (Cameron Diaz) must be rescued from a dragon lair in a thrilling action sequence. The story is stronger than most animated fare, but it's the humor that makes Shrek a winner. The PG rating is stretched when Murphy and Myers hit their strides. The mild potty humor is fun enough for 10-year-olds but will never embarrass their parents. Shrek is never as warm and inspired as the Toy Story films, but the realistic computer animation and a rollicking soundtrack keep the entertainment in fine form. Produced by DreamWorks, the film also takes several delicious stabs at its crosstown rival, Disney. --Doug Thomas

The original cowriter and director of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was Alex Cox, whose earlier film Sid and Nancy suggests that Cox could have been a perfect match in filming Hunter S. Thompson's psychotropic masterpiece of "gonzo" journalism. Unfortunately Cox departed due to the usual "creative differences," and this ill-fated adaptation was thrust upon Terry Gilliam, whose formidable gifts as a visionary filmmaker were squandered on the seemingly unfilmable elements of Thompson's ether-fogged narrative. The result is a one-joke movie without the joke--an endless series of repetitive scenes involving rampant substance abuse and the hallucinogenic fallout of a road trip that's run crazily out of control. Johnny Depp plays Thompson's alter ego, "gonzo" journalist Raoul Duke, and Benicio Del Toro is his sidekick and so-called lawyer Dr. Gonzo. During the course of a trip to Las Vegas to cover a motorcycle race, they ingest a veritable chemistry set of drugs, and Gilliam does his best to show us the hallucinatory state of their zonked-out minds. This allows for some dazzling imagery and the rampant humor of stumbling buffoons, and the mumbling performances of Depp and Del Toro wholeheartedly embrace the tripped-out, paranoid lunacy of Thompson's celebrated book. But over two hours of this insanity tends to grate on the nerves--like being the only sober guest at a party full of drunken idiots. So while Gilliam's film may achieve some modest cult status over the years, it's only because Fear and Loathing is best enjoyed by those who are just as stoned as the characters in the movie. --Jeff Shannon

One of the best romantic comedies of the 1990s, My Best Friend's Wedding not only gave Julia Roberts a delightful vehicle for her crowd-pleasing comeback, but it further distinguished itself by avoiding the conventional plotting of the genre. Julia plays a prominent Chicago restaurant critic whose best friend (Dermot Mulroney) is a former lover from her college days with whom she'd made a binding pact: if neither of them were married by the age of 28, they'd marry each other. Just when they're about to reach the deadline of their agreement, Mulroney arrives in Chicago to introduce Roberts to his seemingly perfect fiancée (Cameron Diaz) and announce their wedding in just three days. That leaves the shocked Julia with just three short days to sabotage the wedding and marry the man she now realizes she's loved all along. With potential heartbreak waiting in the wings, she'll either get what she wants or pay the price for her selfish behavior, and Ronald Bass's cleverly constructed screenplay keeps us guessing to the very end. Rupert Everett scored rave reviews for his scene-stealing performance as Robert's gay friend who goes along with her scheming (but only so far), and even as she makes her character's needy desperation disarmingly appealing, Roberts wisely allows Diaz to capitalize on her charming time in the spotlight. As the romantic outcome remains uncertain, the viewer is held in a state of giddy suspense, and director P.J. Hogan pulls off some hilarious scenes (like a restaurant full of people singing the Dionne Warwick hit "I Say a Little Prayer") that could easily have fallen flat in the hands of a less talented filmmaker. It's no surprise that this was one of the box-office smashes of 1997. --Jeff Shannon

The lovably ugly green ogre returns with his green bride and furry, hooved friend in Shrek 2. The newlywed Shrek and Princess Fiona are invited to Fiona's former kingdom, Far Far Away, to have the marriage blessed by Fiona's parents--which Shrek thinks is a bad, bad idea, and he's proved right: The parents are horrified by their daughter's transformation into an ogress, a fairy godmother wants her son Prince Charming to win Fiona, and a feline assassin is hired to get Shrek out of the way. The computer animation is more detailed than ever, but it's the acting that make the comedy work--in addition to the return of Mike Myers, Eddie Murphy, and Cameron Diaz, Shrek 2 features the flexible voices of Julie Andrews (Mary Poppins), John Cleese (Monty Python's Flying Circus), Antonio Banderas (Desperado), and Jennifer Saunders (Absolutely Fabulous) as the gleefully wicked fairy godmother. --Bret Fetzer

While too many movies suffer the fate of creative bankruptcy, Being John Malkovich is a refreshing study in contrast, so bracingly original that you'll want to send director Spike Jonze and screenwriter Charlie Kaufman a thank-you note for restoring your faith in the enchantment of film. Even if it ultimately serves little purpose beyond the thrill of comedic invention, this demented romance is gloriously entertaining, spilling over with ideas that tickle the brain and even touch the heart. That's to be expected in a movie that dares to ponder the existential dilemma of a forlorn puppeteer (John Cusack) who discovers a metaphysical portal into the brain of actor John Malkovich.

The puppeteer's working as a file clerk on the seventh-and-a-half floor of a Manhattan office building; this idea alone might serve as the comedic basis for an entire film, but Jonze and Kaufman are just getting started. Add a devious coworker (Catherine Keener), Cusack's dowdy wife (a barely recognizable Cameron Diaz), and a business scheme to capitalize on the thrill of being John Malkovich, and you've got a movie that just gets crazier as it plays by its own outrageous rules. Malkovich himself is the film's pièce de résistance, riffing on his own persona with obvious delight and--when he enters his own brain via the portal--appearing with multiple versions of himself in a tour-de-force use of digital trickery. Does it add up to much? Not really. But for 112 liberating minutes, Being John Malkovich is a wild place to visit. --Jeff Shannon

Vanilla Sky reunites director Cameron Crowe (Jerry Maguire) with über-playboy Tom Cruise, adds another sexy Cruz (Penélope) and Cameron Diaz for good measure, and delivers a wildly entertaining, bizarre venture into erotic science fiction. Adapted near exactly from Spanish filmmaker Alejandro Amenábar's 1997 romantic thriller Open Your Eyes, the film follows David Aames (Cruise) as he falls from his graceful Manhattan perch of inordinate wealth, good looks, and newfound love with Sofia (Cruz) because of severe facial disfigurement in a car accident caused by a suicidal ex-lover (Diaz). What at first promises to be a conventional allegory of redemption via true love is turned on its head as Cruise's character, reduced to wearing a latex mask and spurned by his friends, wins back his princess only after a miracle of plastic surgery restores his former beauty. A series of plot twists follows as waking life, technological advances, and nightmares flip-flop to dizzying effect and David ultimately comes face to face with his own mortality. Despite a final conceit to some vague morality, the appeal of the film is the wonderfully callous message conveyed by the rest of it (money and physical beauty equal happiness) through an unabashed vanity perfectly embodied by Cruise and Cruz. A delicious, decadent treat. --Fionn Meade

As the saying goes, Aaron Eckhart was born to play Nick Naylor, the 30-something "voice of Big Tobacco" in this brazen satire of corporate profits and what lobbyists will do to protect them. Right from the opening, Eckhart is in spin mode, turning the tables on a popular talk show when he states health officials want a young teen stricken by cancer to die more than big tobacco does, since the boy would be a martyr to them, but only a single lost customer to the industry. Audiences gasp, panelists guffaw, and the kid happily shakes Nick's hand. The Academy of Tobacco Studies has a colorful array of folks surrounding Nick, including his cantankerous boss (J.K. Simmons) and the Colonel (Robert Duvall), tobacco's undisputed leader. His closet friends are lobbyists for guns (David Koechner) and alcohol (Maria Bello) who discuss their odd businesses over regular lunches, but when a cutie-pie reporter (Katie Holmes) swings into Nick's life, things begin to unravel. Based on Christopher Buckley's even more outlandish novel, Thank You for Smoking is a bright light for the filmgoer tired of gutless films formulated by committee, and first-time filmmaker Jason Reitman has expertly cast the film, which includes deft turns by William H. Macy and Sam Elliot. Nick's son, a throwaway in the novel, becomes a major influence here in Nick's development and a key student of Naylorisms such as, "If you argue correctly, then you're never wrong," though a father and son trip to Hollywood to visit an uber agent (Rob Lowe at his most suave) demonstrates how the inclusion of the son both helps and hurts the film. Book fans will miss the wicked plot turn, but the final result is a sharp and smart comedy deserving of a long, savory drag. --Doug Thomas

Any Given Sunday, Oliver Stone's salute-cum-exposé of pro football, belabors some pretty obvious points for nigh onto three hours; but between the frenetic editing, the pounding rap-music beats, and several flashy performances, it's certainly never dull. Al Pacino, coach of the fictional Miami Sharks (the NFL declined involvement in this production), struggles with the most time-honored of sports movie dilemmas: what to do with the old friend who's past his prime and the young hotshot who could save the franchise but first has to learn what being a team player is all about. Comedian Jamie Foxx does a marvelous dramatic turn as the rookie quarterback whose ego and talent are equally impressive, while Pacino seems more at ease in Oliver Stone Land than any actor since regular James Woods (on hand as well as a sleazy team doctor). Prowling the sidelines, shouting spittle-flecked orders, seizing up in almost physical pain when a play goes the wrong way, Pacino is as unashamedly--and entertainingly--hyperbolic as Stone's whirling montages of boiling storm clouds, bloodthirsty fans, and players smashed into the mud. (Once again football, perhaps the most sophisticated of team sports, is viewed cinematically as a bunch of guys hitting each other in slow motion.) Unfortunately, all the self-conscious mythologizing and pumped-up macho posturing that Stone can muster doesn't conceal a clichéd, slapped-together script, whose few good ideas (mostly about race in America) jostle about with several hoary, terrible ones--including a too-literal analogy of football players as modern gladiators. (To drive the point home, Stone includes Charlton Heston--the aging Ben-Hur--in one of many star-powered cameos.) All in all, Any Given Sunday is never dull, but never very enjoyable, either. --Bruce Reid

Following the success of his spunky, 1995 directorial debut, The Brothers McMullen, Edward Burns suffers a little sophomore slump with this comedy about a pair of rivalrous brothers who get into bizarre relationships with women in a fierce but immature pursuit of happiness. When they find they both have a complicated interest in the same woman (Cameron Diaz), things come to a head. The film is a little overwritten, undershot, bulky, slow, and static, but it is also funny and inventive--further proof that Burns knows his New York City beat as well as Woody Allen does. With Jennifer Aniston, Maxine Bahns, and John Mahoney. --Tom Keogh

A Life Less Ordinary is a surprising disappointment, considering it is the third film from director Danny Boyle, writer John Hodge, and actor Ewan McGregor. This disjointed and strained romantic comedy is not even near the same league as Trainspotting and Shallow Grave. Cameron Diaz is a spoiled heiress and McGregor an aimless janitor brought together by two angels (Holly Hunter and Delroy Lindo) hoping to hang onto their wings. McGregor kidnaps Diaz, the boss's daughter, after being fired from his crummy job. She is not all that averse to being snatched. Most of the laughs are lost to a scattershot story that feels preposterous instead of magical. --Rochelle O'Gorman

Prudes, beware! Despite its tendency to take the comedic low road, The Sweetest Thing is a near-perfect product of the new-millennial Hollywood. That's a backhanded compliment, but as a fun-loving Yankee girl's answer to Bridget Jones's Diary, the mainstream pandering of Nancy Pimental's lucrative screenplay is undeniably effective. On the opening soundtrack, Macy Gray's "Sexual Revolution" is a perfect accompaniment to gyrating guy-dumper Christina (Cameron Diaz), whose fear of commitment is tested when she meets Peter (Thomas Jane) and knows he's Mr. Right. With supportive gal-pals Courtney (Christina Applegate) and Jane (Selma Blair), she plots to snag the guy, and the movie's road-trip detour mines gut-busting gold from gags involving incriminating dress stains, oral sex, rotting food, garish clothing, and the simple joys of old-fashioned romance. Perfectly cast, raucously ribald, and conventionally charming, The Sweetest Thing is a schizophrenic comedy, but its dual personalities are irresistibly in synch. --Jeff Shannon

Any Given Sunday, Oliver Stone's salute-cum-exposé of pro football, belabors some pretty obvious points for nigh onto three hours; but between the frenetic editing, the pounding rap-music beats, and several flashy performances, it's certainly never dull. Al Pacino, coach of the fictional Miami Sharks (the NFL declined involvement in this production), struggles with the most time-honored of sports movie dilemmas: what to do with the old friend who's past his prime and the young hotshot who could save the franchise but first has to learn what being a team player is all about. Comedian Jamie Foxx does a marvelous dramatic turn as the rookie quarterback whose ego and talent are equally impressive, while Pacino seems more at ease in Oliver Stone Land than any actor since regular James Woods (on hand as well as a sleazy team doctor). Prowling the sidelines, shouting spittle-flecked orders, seizing up in almost physical pain when a play goes the wrong way, Pacino is as unashamedly--and entertainingly--hyperbolic as Stone's whirling montages of boiling storm clouds, bloodthirsty fans, and players smashed into the mud. (Once again football, perhaps the most sophisticated of team sports, is viewed cinematically as a bunch of guys hitting each other in slow motion.) Unfortunately, all the self-conscious mythologizing and pumped-up macho posturing that Stone can muster doesn't conceal a clichéd, slapped-together script, whose few good ideas (mostly about race in America) jostle about with several hoary, terrible ones--including a too-literal analogy of football players as modern gladiators. (To drive the point home, Stone includes Charlton Heston--the aging Ben-Hur--in one of many star-powered cameos.) All in all, Any Given Sunday is never dull, but never very enjoyable, either. --Bruce Reid

Cheri Oteri breathed bracing fresh air into the seasons she appeared on Saturday Night Live, and created memorable characters both absurd and delightful. This 78-minute disc contains samples of some of her signature performances, including the preternaturally peppy cheerleader, Arianna, paired with a strapping Will Ferrell. (Ever tried to lead a cheer at the team's…swim meet? Arianna never met a challenge she couldn't conquer.) Oteri also takes on media icon Barbara Walters, satirized decades earlier by the incomparable Gilda Radner as Baba Wawa. Oteri's impersonation both pays homage to Radner's and takes it to a new level of absurdity; Oteri's Walters is a randy, name-dropping old coot who doesn't miss a beat--or an opportunity to aggrandize herself ("I was horseback riding the other day with Saddam Hussein…"). Don't miss the brief skit where Walters tries to have phone sex with a nonplussed Tom Brokaw. Other signature characters include Oteri's Judge Judy and the prescription hound Collette (appearing here in a priceless bit with John Goodman as a flummoxed pharmacist). And of course, the abusive Burger Castle counter chick Nadeen, who shoots down every customer request with a "Simma down, now!" Extras include audition and dress rehearsal footage, and an audio commentary by Oteri. --A.T. Hurley

Sometimes it's hard to tell if The Mask (or Jim Carrey's in-your-face mugging in general) is actually funny, or just bizarre and grotesque. And sometimes it just doesn't matter. Carrey plays a shy, Jerry Lewis-like nerd who discovers an ancient mask that magically transforms him into a green-faced, zoot-suited Tex Avery cartoon character with no inhibitions. As Roger Ebert said of Carrey in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, the actor performs "as if he's being clocked on an Energy-O-Meter, and paid by the calorie expended." If that's your kind of humor, you'll love The Mask; if not, you may need a valium or two to sit through this one. Digital video disc extras include two deleted scenes and a commentary track from director Charles Russell. --Jim Emerson

In his debut effort, director/writer Steven Baigleman put together an interesting premise and collected a talented cast to execute it. Unfortunately, he never sets the tone, so we are caught between a wildly black comedy and an emotionally brutal drama. A firmer footing in either genre would have better defined our reactions to it. Keanu Reeves plays Jjaks, a man so badly trod upon by fate that his very name is the result of a typo. He arrives back at his mother's house in a lower working-class Minnesota neighborhood to witness the marriage of his older brother (Vincent D'Onofrio) to an obviously reluctant bride (Cameron Diaz). By the time Jjaks is on his way, he's stolen a car, a dog, and his brother's wife. You have to give Baigleman credit for serving up intriguing characters. Unfortunately, he spins the story in circles instead of moving it along. Reeves and Diaz attempt to leave Minnesota, but never quite make it. Reeves repeatedly returns to a boyhood home he hates, always stumbling into his brother's angry clutches. What does work are the performances. Diaz is both sad and strong as the tough cookie who happens to be the smartest character in the movie. D'Onofrio's stupid nastiness is offset by his crushing love for her and an uncontrollable jealousy of Jjaks. Most surprising is Reeves, who makes us feel for his angry, unhappy loser by revealing flashes of decency under a toughened exterior. --Rochelle O'Gorman

For every TV-into-movie success like The Fugitive, there are dozens of uninspired films like The Mod Squad. Happily--and surprisingly--this breezy update of the seminal '70s jiggle show falls into the first category, with Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore (who also produced), and Lucy Liu starring as the hair-tossing, fashion-setting, kung fu-fighting trio employed by the mysterious Charlie (voiced by the original Charlie, John Forsythe). When a high-tech programmer (Sam Rockwell) is kidnapped, the angels seek out the suspects, with the daffy Bosley (Bill Murray in a casting coup) in tow. A happy, cornball popcorn flick, Charlie's Angels is played for laughs with plenty of ribbing references to the old TV show as well as modern caper films like Mission: Impossible. McG, a music video director making his feature film debut (usually a death warrant for a movie's integrity), infuses the film with plenty of Matrix-style combat pyrotechnics, and the result is the first successful all-American Hong Kong-style action flick. Plenty of movies boast a New Age feminism that has their stars touting their sexuality while being their own women, but unlike something as obnoxious as Coyote Ugly, Angels succeeds with a positive spin on Girl Power for the new millennium (Diaz especially sizzles in her role of crack super agent/airhead blonde). From the send-up of the TV show's credit sequence to the outtakes over the end credits, Charlie's Angels is a delight. --Doug Thomas

Peter Berg's dark comedy about a bachelor party gone horribly awry is highly ambitious in its attempts to satirize suburbia, male bonding, and self-help philosophy, and for the most part it does succeed in hitting its targets with a malicious, misanthropic glee. When five buddies arrive in Las Vegas for some pre-wedding shenanigans, things quickly spiral out of control when the requisite prostitute falls victim to a grisly accident, igniting a spark in an already unstable powder keg of personalities. Following the lead of real estate agent and self-help guy Robert (Christian Slater), the men warily agree on a cover-up and covert desert burial. A couple hours and another corpse later, however, they're already at each other's throats, and their escalating breakdowns threaten to disrupt the highly prized wedding of hard-as-nails bride Laura (a stunning Cameron Diaz). Berg, like most actor-turned-directors (this is The Last Seduction star's filmmaking debut) helms the film with a wildly sliding tone and tends to weigh its strengths heavily on its performers. Slater's psycho turn is by far his most inventive yet (he's more in control than ever before), Diaz effectively mixes sunshine with poison, and Jon Favreau is effective and understated as the hapless bridegroom; the rest of the cast, however, tends to play up the histrionics. Be warned, though: Those expecting a sunny-style There's Something About Mary gross-out comedy will probably be shocked by Berg's take-no-prisoners agenda; this is comedy at its absolute blackest, and no one is spared. --Mark Englehart