Like its predecessor Ocean's Eleven, Ocean's Twelve is a piffle of a caper, a preposterous plot given juice and vitality by a combination of movie star glamour and the exuberant filmmaking skill of director Steven Soderbergh (Out of Sight, The Limey). The heist hijinks of the first film come to roost for a team of eleven thieves (including the glossy mugs of Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Bernie Mac, and Don Cheadle), who find themselves pursued not only by the guy they robbed (silky Andy Garcia), but also by a top-notch detective (plush Catherine Zeta-Jones) and a jealous master thief (well-oiled Vincent Cassel) who wants to prove that team leader Danny Ocean (dapper George Clooney) isn't the best in the field. As if all that star power weren't enough--and the eternally coltish Julia Roberts also returns as Ocean's wife--one movie star cameo raises the movie's combined wattage to absurd proportions. But all these handsome faces are matched by Soderbergh's visual flash, cunning editing, and excellent use of Amsterdam, Paris, and Rome, among other highly decorative locations. The whole affair should collapse under the weight of its own silliness, but somehow it doesn't--the movie's raffish spirit and offhand wit soar along, providing lightweight but undeniable entertainment. --Bret Fetzer

The Zorro brand of hot-blooded derring-do returns with The Legend of Zorro, starring Antonio Banderas and Catherine Zeta-Jones in the roles that brought them stardom with The Mask of Zorro. Now married for ten years and parents to young rascal Joaquim (charming Adrian Alonso, perhaps being set up for a future Son of Zorro), dashing swordsman Alejandro (Banderas, a Spaniard playing a Mexican) and sultry spitfire Elena De La Vega (Zeta-Jones, a Welshwoman playing a Spaniard) abruptly divorce, sending Alejandro on a drunken binge--which only gets worse when he learns Elena is being wooed by the mysterious Armand (Rufus Sewell, a Brit playing a Frenchman). Little does Alejandro know that Elena has ulterior motives, and that a worldwide conspiracy and a secret weapon will soon threaten the integrity of the U.S. The Legend of Zorro has way too much plot, leaving room for only two genuinely preposterous donnybrooks and a handful of lackluster brawls. Banderas and Zeta-Jones flash a bit of their considerable charisma, but by and large they (and the movie as a whole) are on autopilot. Not awful, but lacking any real spark. --Bret Fetzer

High concept and high class, An American Classic is a worthy visual complement to Tony Bennett's 2006 duets CD of the same name. The notion of pairing veteran artists with a variety of singing partners is nothing new, of course (cf. B.B. King and Frank Sinatra, among many others), but this one goes a step further; under the direction of Rob Marshall (Chicago, Memoirs of a Geisha) and his team, Bennett appears in what's described as a "docu-musical," faithfully re-creating a variety of performance settings much like the ones in which the 80-year-old singer has appeared in the course of his long, fruitful career. Thus we find him on a concert stage with Barbra Streisand ("Smile"), in a nightclub with John Legend (a swinging, uptempo "Sing, You Sinners"), in the studio with k.d. lang and trumpeter Chris Botti ("Because of You"), on a '60s-style TV variety show with Diana Krall (a classy "The Best is Yet to Come"), in Vegas with Elton John ("Rags To Riches") and then Michael Buble (an amusing "Just in Time"), and so forth, on up to Bennett's triumphant shot on MTV Unplugged with Christina Aguilera (no jazz singer, but she keeps most of her excesses in check on "Steppin' Out") and the inevitable "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" (Bennett with piano accompaniment only). It's all very respectful, well staged, and entertainingly choreographed, but if this 45-minute cavalcade has a significant shortcoming, it's that it mostly lacks fire and spontaneity; the only time Bennett cuts loose is during an audio-only "I Got Rhythm" heard under the various DVD menus. Viewers may also be disappointed that Sting, Bono, Paul McCartney, James Taylor, the Dixie Chicks, and several others on the CD do not appear here, and it's a notable drag that not a single one of the composers or arrangers of the material is identified. Bonus features include a "making of" documentary and other featurettes. --Sam Graham

Featuring a huge cast of characters, the ambitious and breathtaking Traffic is a tapestry of three separate stories woven together by a common theme: the war on drugs. In Ohio, there's the newly appointed government drug czar (Michael Douglas) who realizes after he's accepted the job that he may have gotten into a no-win situation. Not only that, his teenage daughter (Erika Christensen) is herself quietly developing a nasty addiction problem. In San Diego, a drug kingpin (Steven Bauer) is arrested on information provided by an informant (Miguel Ferrer) who was nabbed by two undercover detectives (Don Cheadle and Luis Guzmán). The kingpin's wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones), heretofore ignorant of where her husband's wealth comes from, gets a crash course in the drug business and its nasty side effects. And south of the border, a Mexican cop (Benicio Del Toro) finds himself caught between both his home country and the U.S., as corrupt government officials duke it out with the drug cartel for control of trafficking various drugs back and forth across the border.

Bold in scope, Traffic showcases Steven Soderbergh at the top of his game, directing a peerless ensemble cast in a gritty, multifaceted tale that will captivate you from beginning to end. Utilizing the no-frills techniques of the Dogme 95 school, Soderbergh enhances his hand-held filming with imaginative editing and film-stock manipulation that eerily captures the atmosphere of each location: a washed-out, grainy Mexico; a blue and chilly Ohio; and a sleek, sun-dappled San Diego. But Traffic is more than a film-school exercise. Soderbergh and screenwriter Stephen Gaghan (adapting the British TV miniseries Traffik to the U.S.) seamlessly weave the threads of each separate plotline into one solid tale, with the actions of one plot having quiet repercussions on the other two. And if you needed more proof that Soderbergh takes unparalleled care with his actors, practically all the members of this cast turn in their best work ever, the standout being an Oscar-worthy Del Toro as the conflicted moral conscience of the film. While no story is fully resolved in the film, you'll be haunted by these characters days after you've seen the film. By far one of the best movies of 2000. --Mark Englehart

Bob Fosse's sexy cynicism still shines in Chicago, a faithful movie adaptation of the choreographer-director's 1975 Broadway musical. Of course the story, all about merry murderesses and tabloid fame, is set in the Roaring '20s, but Chicago reeks of '70s disenchantment--this isn't just Fosse's material, it's his attitude, too. That's probably why the movie's breathless observations on fleeting fame and fickle public taste already seem dated. However, Renée Zellweger and Catherine Zeta-Jones are beautifully matched as Jazz Age vixens, and Richard Gere gleefully sheds his customary cool to belt out a showstopper. (Yes, they all do their own singing and dancing.) Whatever qualms musical purists may have about director Rob Marshall's cut-cut-cut style, the film's sheer exuberance is intoxicating. Given the scarcity of big-screen musicals in the last 25 years, that's a cause for singing, dancing, cheering. And all that jazz. --Robert Horton

This plain-vanilla version of the old Lee Falk comic strip stars Billy Zane as a 1930s incarnation of the Phantom, an African-based, masked hero whose forefathers have all donned the costume at one time or another. Sworn to crush evil, the Phantom leaves his jungle lair to venture to New York, where he takes on a charming but criminal mastermind (Treat Williams). There's no oomph to this film at all. The very capable director Simon Wincer (Phar Lap) seems to be working with a leaden production and an inferior talent pool behind the camera. The talent in front of the camera do their best, but it isn't enough. --Tom Keogh

Bob Fosse's sexy cynicism still shines in Chicago, a faithful movie adaptation of the choreographer-director's 1975 Broadway musical. Of course the story, all about merry murderesses and tabloid fame, is set in the Roaring '20s, but Chicago reeks of '70s disenchantment--this isn't just Fosse's material, it's his attitude, too. That's probably why the movie's breathless observations on fleeting fame and fickle public taste already seem dated. However, Renée Zellweger and Catherine Zeta-Jones are beautifully matched as Jazz Age vixens, and Richard Gere gleefully sheds his customary cool to belt out a showstopper. (Yes, they all do their own singing and dancing.) Whatever qualms musical purists may have about director Rob Marshall's cut-cut-cut style, the film's sheer exuberance is intoxicating. Given the scarcity of big-screen musicals in the last 25 years, that's a cause for singing, dancing, cheering. And all that jazz. --Robert Horton

Sean Connery plays a master thief thought to be long retired, while Katherine Zeta-Jones is his foil, a hotshot insurance investigator assigned to his case. They both have a little something to hold over each other's heads, until it turns out that Zeta-Jones is a professional art thief herself and is playing on both sides of the fence. At first they eye each other with mutual distrust until they team up for a job, which goes off without a hitch. Inevitably their prickly relationship begins to thaw somewhat, and the two become attracted to each other as they plan out the massive Y2K bank scam that is the movie's climax (complete with sequel-ready ending). Entrapment plays somewhat like a '70s caper movie revamped for the gadget-happy high-tech '90s. The plot takes a few too many labored twists and turns, and the chemistry between the two leads is nearly nonexistent, though both carry on gamely in their parts. On the other hand, there is some genuine suspense in many scenes as they go about their business, dripping with whiz-bang burglary devices. Zeta-Jones, of course, is drop-dead gorgeous, and Connery is as reliable as always in his role. The fairly flat editing and direction tends to drag the film down somewhat, but fans of caper movies, high-tech thrillers, and the two leads should find plenty to like in this film. --Jerry Renshaw

Like an airport running at peak efficiency, The Terminal glides on the consummate skills of its director and star. Having refined their collaborative chemistry on Saving Private Ryan and Catch Me if You Can, Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks mesh like the precision gears of a Rolex, turning a delicate, not-very-plausible scenario into a lovely modern-age fable (partly based on fact) that's both technically impressive and subtly moving. It's Spielberg in Capra mode, spinning the featherweight tale of Victor Navorski (Hanks, giving a finely tuned performance), an Eastern European who arrives at New York's Kennedy Airport just as his (fictional) homeland has fallen to a coup, forcing him, with no valid citizenship, to take indefinite residence in the airport's expansive International Arrivals Terminal (an astonishing full-scale set that inspires Spielberg's most elegant visual strategies). Spielberg said he made this film in part to alleviate the anguish of wartime America, and his master's touch works wonders on the occasionally mushy material; even Stanley Tucci's officious terminal director and Catherine Zeta-Jones's mixed-up flight attendant come off (respectively) as forgivable and effortlessly charming. With this much talent involved, The Terminal transcends its minor shortcomings to achieve a rare degree of cinematic grace. --Jeff Shannon

The Zorro brand of hot-blooded derring-do returns with The Legend of Zorro, starring Antonio Banderas and Catherine Zeta-Jones in the roles that brought them stardom with The Mask of Zorro. Now married for ten years and parents to young rascal Joaquim (charming Adrian Alonso, perhaps being set up for a future Son of Zorro), dashing swordsman Alejandro (Banderas, a Spaniard playing a Mexican) and sultry spitfire Elena De La Vega (Zeta-Jones, a Welshwoman playing a Spaniard) abruptly divorce, sending Alejandro on a drunken binge--which only gets worse when he learns Elena is being wooed by the mysterious Armand (Rufus Sewell, a Brit playing a Frenchman). Little does Alejandro know that Elena has ulterior motives, and that a worldwide conspiracy and a secret weapon will soon threaten the integrity of the U.S. The Legend of Zorro has way too much plot, leaving room for only two genuinely preposterous donnybrooks and a handful of lackluster brawls. Banderas and Zeta-Jones flash a bit of their considerable charisma, but by and large they (and the movie as a whole) are on autopilot. Not awful, but lacking any real spark. --Bret Fetzer

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, an animated adventure from the DreamWorks studio, has little connection to the original fables from the Arabian Nights, but it's an entertaining romp nonetheless. Sinbad (voiced by the midwest vowels of Brad Pitt) gets commissioned by the wicked goddess Eris (Michelle Pfeiffer) to steal a magical book called the Book of Peace from the city of Syracuse--but the prince of Syracuse turns out to be a childhood friend of Sinbad's. So Eris steals the book herself and frames Sinbad, making the hero sail to the edge of the world to get it back, accompanied by Marina (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a woman he's secretly loved for years. The movie skillfully blends hand-drawn and computer images. The storyline is surprisingly well-constructed and actually has some thoughts about friendship and personal fiber, while providing all the swashbuckling, derring-do, and cliffhangers you could want. --Bret Fetzer

America's Sweethearts is just the kind of romantic froth that makes for pleasant viewing on a lazy, rainy day. While Julia Roberts, John Cusack, and Catherine Zeta-Jones offer high-wattage marquee value, costar and cowriter Billy Crystal reworks Singin' in the Rain for latter-day Hollywood, where estranged superstars Gwen (Zeta-Jones) and Eddie (Cusack) reluctantly promote their latest movie by pretending their messily disputed relationship is still going strong. The studio chief (Stanley Tucci) is desperate for a hit, so he hires a seasoned publicist (Crystal) to orchestrate a press junket that will cast everyone in a profitable light. The catch: The director (Christopher Walken) has abducted his own film in an act of artistic extortion, and Gwen's sister and longtime assistant Kiki (Roberts) is the true object of Eddie's desire.

Chaos ensues at the luxury hotel where the junket is scheduled, and America's Sweethearts pokes easy fun at the cynical machinery that keeps Hollywood running. Quotable quips are delivered in abundance, and while Zeta-Jones is readily convincing as a bitchy narcissist, Roberts effortlessly steals the show with her trademark charms. All of which makes America's Sweethearts lightly entertaining, even though it never rises (like Roberts's earlier Notting Hill) to the level of classic romantic comedy, hampered by a script that too often substitutes easy laughs for ripe satirical invention, flashing a phony grin when it should be baring its fangs. --Jeff Shannon

A sleek George Clooney and a seductive Catherine Zeta-Jones square off magnificently in the divorce comedy Intolerable Cruelty. The plot is simple: Lawyer supreme Miles Massey (Clooney, Out of Sight, Ocean's Eleven) skillfully outmaneuvers gold-digger Marylin Rexroth (Zeta-Jones, Chicago, Traffic) when she divorces her wealthy husband--and she sets out to get revenge. But this movie comes from the creative minds of the Coen Brothers (Fargo, Raising Arizona, O Brother Where Art Thou?), and so Intolerable Cruelty includes a Scottish wedding chapel in Vegas, an asthmatic hit man, fluffy-dog-stroking European nobility, and a legendarily unbreakable pre-nuptial agreement. Still, it's pretty restrained for the Coens; smooth and consistent, it never stumbles as disappointingly as their movies can, but also never quite hits the operatic pitch of their best work. It's still damn funny, though, with top-notch performances from the leads as well as Geoffrey Rush, Cedric the Entertainer, and Billy Bob Thornton. --Bret Fetzer

Like an airport running at peak efficiency, The Terminal glides on the consummate skills of its director and star. Having refined their collaborative chemistry on Saving Private Ryan and Catch Me if You Can, Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks mesh like the precision gears of a Rolex, turning a delicate, not-very-plausible scenario into a lovely modern-age fable (partly based on fact) that's both technically impressive and subtly moving. It's Spielberg in Capra mode, spinning the featherweight tale of Victor Navorski (Hanks, giving a finely tuned performance), an Eastern European who arrives at New York's Kennedy Airport just as his (fictional) homeland has fallen to a coup, forcing him, with no valid citizenship, to take indefinite residence in the airport's expansive International Arrivals Terminal (an astonishing full-scale set that inspires Spielberg's most elegant visual strategies). Spielberg said he made this film in part to alleviate the anguish of wartime America, and his master's touch works wonders on the occasionally mushy material; even Stanley Tucci's officious terminal director and Catherine Zeta-Jones's mixed-up flight attendant come off (respectively) as forgivable and effortlessly charming. With this much talent involved, The Terminal transcends its minor shortcomings to achieve a rare degree of cinematic grace. --Jeff Shannon

Suffering from the extreme bad luck of being released at the same time as the low-budget The Blair Witch Project, this adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House attempts to update Shirley Jackson's psychologically terrifying ghost story to the era of big-budget, computerized special effects. Does it work? Well, let's just say that showing isn't exactly the same as telling. A prime example of bloated studio filmmaking, The Haunting telegraphs all its frights so blatantly that it forsakes any of Jackson's subtle horrors for the remedial scares of a clunky carnival ride. The story remains basically the same, with four people called to an old mansion for experiments in the supernatural, but instead of getting inside the heads of its main characters (as the 1963 adaptation by Robert Wise did so well), Jan DeBont's film deserts character development for the huge, glorious set design provided by Eugenio Zanetti (Restoration). Thus, instead of a well-drawn story you get... a well-drawn house, one that four very talented and underutilized actors--Lili Taylor, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Liam Neeson, and Owen Wilson--wander around in endlessly (as Zeta-Jones puts it, the house is "sort of Charles Foster Kane meets the Munsters"). Taylor, as the hypersensitive Nell, is the unknowing lynchpin in the battle between good and bad ghosts and gets saddled with most of the expository dialogue of the mansion's gothic backstory. Zeta-Jones (showing some spark) and Neeson (showing none) are sadly reduced to providing reactionary shots of the film's disastrous climax, which mixes hapless new-age affirmations with computer-generated effects of ghosts and exploding windows, walls, doors, etc. For this haunted-house story, take a quick tour of the breathtaking rooms, but definitely don't stay the night. --Mark Englehart

Russian history occurs on a sweeping scale, but that takes a bigger budget than A&E can muster. So instead the cable network keeps its treatment of Russian empress Catherine II indoors as much as possible. That allows the camera to linger over the impossibly lovely face of Catherine Zeta-Jones, and the plot to focus on the political machinations of 18th-century Russia. Catherine goes from a bookish teen bride (her husband is the crazy and possibly impotent nephew of Russia's Empress Elizabeth) to the legendary empress who successfully concluded the Seven Years' War with Prussia, conquered Turkey, and put down a rebellion led by a Cossack pretending to be her long-dead husband.

The movie stumbles a bit when it ventures outdoors--it's hard to imagine Russia really conquered the Ottoman Turks with a 12-man army--but sizzles inside. Zeta-Jones conveys both passion and hard-edged ambition as her character transforms herself from manipulated to manipulator. Many of those manipulations occur in the bedroom, and the movie takes some liberties in portraying her union with military leader Grigory Potemkin (Paul McGann); here he's practically a saint, although history remembers him a bit less nobly.

The supporting cast includes Jeanne Moreau in a masterful portrayal of Empress Elizabeth, along with Ian Richardson, Mel Ferrer, and Omar Sharif. Although there's plenty of scenery for them to chew, they hold back, allowing Zeta-Jones her 100 minutes of greatness. --Kimberly Heinrichs

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, an animated adventure from the DreamWorks studio, has little connection to the original fables from the Arabian Nights, but it's an entertaining romp nonetheless. Sinbad (voiced by the midwest vowels of Brad Pitt) gets commissioned by the wicked goddess Eris (Michelle Pfeiffer) to steal a magical book called the Book of Peace from the city of Syracuse--but the prince of Syracuse turns out to be a childhood friend of Sinbad's. So Eris steals the book herself and frames Sinbad, making the hero sail to the edge of the world to get it back, accompanied by Marina (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a woman he's secretly loved for years. The movie skillfully blends hand-drawn and computer images. The storyline is surprisingly well-constructed and actually has some thoughts about friendship and personal fiber, while providing all the swashbuckling, derring-do, and cliffhangers you could want. --Bret Fetzer

Sean Connery plays a master thief thought to be long retired, while Katherine Zeta-Jones is his foil, a hotshot insurance investigator assigned to his case. They both have a little something to hold over each other's heads, until it turns out that Zeta-Jones is a professional art thief herself and is playing on both sides of the fence. At first they eye each other with mutual distrust until they team up for a job, which goes off without a hitch. Inevitably their prickly relationship begins to thaw somewhat, and the two become attracted to each other as they plan out the massive Y2K bank scam that is the movie's climax (complete with sequel-ready ending). Entrapment plays somewhat like a '70s caper movie revamped for the gadget-happy high-tech '90s. The plot takes a few too many labored twists and turns, and the chemistry between the two leads is nearly nonexistent, though both carry on gamely in their parts. On the other hand, there is some genuine suspense in many scenes as they go about their business, dripping with whiz-bang burglary devices. Zeta-Jones, of course, is drop-dead gorgeous, and Connery is as reliable as always in his role. The fairly flat editing and direction tends to drag the film down somewhat, but fans of caper movies, high-tech thrillers, and the two leads should find plenty to like in this film. --Jerry Renshaw

A sleek George Clooney and a seductive Catherine Zeta-Jones square off magnificently in the divorce comedy Intolerable Cruelty. The plot is simple: Lawyer supreme Miles Massey (Clooney, Out of Sight, Ocean's Eleven) skillfully outmaneuvers gold-digger Marylin Rexroth (Zeta-Jones, Chicago, Traffic) when she divorces her wealthy husband--and she sets out to get revenge. But this movie comes from the creative minds of the Coen Brothers (Fargo, Raising Arizona, O Brother Where Art Thou?), and so Intolerable Cruelty includes a Scottish wedding chapel in Vegas, an asthmatic hit man, fluffy-dog-stroking European nobility, and a legendarily unbreakable pre-nuptial agreement. Still, it's pretty restrained for the Coens; smooth and consistent, it never stumbles as disappointingly as their movies can, but also never quite hits the operatic pitch of their best work. It's still damn funny, though, with top-notch performances from the leads as well as Geoffrey Rush, Cedric the Entertainer, and Billy Bob Thornton. --Bret Fetzer

Sean Connery plays a master thief thought to be long retired, while Katherine Zeta-Jones is his foil, a hotshot insurance investigator assigned to his case. They both have a little something to hold over each other's heads, until it turns out that Zeta-Jones is a professional art thief herself and is playing on both sides of the fence. At first they eye each other with mutual distrust until they team up for a job, which goes off without a hitch. Inevitably their prickly relationship begins to thaw somewhat, and the two become attracted to each other as they plan out the massive Y2K bank scam that is the movie's climax (complete with sequel-ready ending). Entrapment plays somewhat like a '70s caper movie revamped for the gadget-happy high-tech '90s. The plot takes a few too many labored twists and turns, and the chemistry between the two leads is nearly nonexistent, though both carry on gamely in their parts. On the other hand, there is some genuine suspense in many scenes as they go about their business, dripping with whiz-bang burglary devices. Zeta-Jones, of course, is drop-dead gorgeous, and Connery is as reliable as always in his role. The fairly flat editing and direction tends to drag the film down somewhat, but fans of caper movies, high-tech thrillers, and the two leads should find plenty to like in this film. --Jerry Renshaw

Like an airport running at peak efficiency, The Terminal glides on the consummate skills of its director and star. Having refined their collaborative chemistry on Saving Private Ryan and Catch Me if You Can, Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks mesh like the precision gears of a Rolex, turning a delicate, not-very-plausible scenario into a lovely modern-age fable (partly based on fact) that's both technically impressive and subtly moving. It's Spielberg in Capra mode, spinning the featherweight tale of Victor Navorski (Hanks, giving a finely tuned performance), an Eastern European who arrives at New York's Kennedy Airport just as his (fictional) homeland has fallen to a coup, forcing him, with no valid citizenship, to take indefinite residence in the airport's expansive International Arrivals Terminal (an astonishing full-scale set that inspires Spielberg's most elegant visual strategies). Spielberg said he made this film in part to alleviate the anguish of wartime America, and his master's touch works wonders on the occasionally mushy material; even Stanley Tucci's officious terminal director and Catherine Zeta-Jones's mixed-up flight attendant come off (respectively) as forgivable and effortlessly charming. With this much talent involved, The Terminal transcends its minor shortcomings to achieve a rare degree of cinematic grace. --Jeff Shannon

Wax up your boards and hang 10 (or whatever) where the big waves come crashing in: off the English coast at Cornwall. Huh? No endless summer? No two girls for every boy? No, but in Blue Juice one can see what most of us probably never even thought about: the British Isles are indeed islands and, not incongruously, there's a considerable surfing culture with a handful of homegrown legends. One of the latter is JC (Sean Pertwee), a skilled surfer so driven by the challenge and so dedicated to his mates that it threatens his meandering romance with the long-suffering Chloe (Catherine Zeta-Jones). The two have planned an extensive, around-the-world trip as a kind of prelude to discussing marriage, but the arrangement is threatened when three of JC's old childhood chums arrive from London. One of them (played by Steven Mackintosh) is a famous record producer who has sold his soul (in every sense) to reap profits from fashionable electronica. Another (Ewan McGregor) is a chronic screwup resorting to hustling junk to unsuspecting customers. The last (Peter Gunn) is an anxious sort terrified of marrying his longtime girlfriend. Together, these four guys look like a pack of nowhere men and they know it: while the story largely focuses on JC and Chloe, there's plenty of material for the supporting characters to indulge in mucho self-loathing. The film never quite jumps off the screen and the script may be hampered by too many layers of character eccentricity, but this is still an enjoyable piece with some fine comic performances. --Tom Keogh

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

More than a few critics hailed Spider-Man 2 as "the best superhero movie ever," and there's no compelling reason to argue--thanks to a bigger budget, better special effects, and a dynamic, character-driven plot, it's a notch above Spider-Man in terms of emotional depth and rich comic-book sensibility. Ordinary People Oscar-winner Alvin Sargent received screenplay credit, and celebrated author and comic-book expert Michael Chabon worked on the story, but it's director Sam Raimi's affinity for the material that brings Spidey 2 to vivid life. When a fusion experiment goes terribly wrong, a brilliant physicist (Alfred Molina) is turned into Spidey's newest nemesis, the deranged, mechanically tentacled "Doctor Octopus," obsessed with completing his experiment and killing Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) in the process. Even more compelling is Peter Parker's urgent dilemma: continue his burdensome, lonely life of crime-fighting as Spider-Man, or pursue love and happiness with Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst)? Molina's outstanding as a tragic villain controlled by his own invention, and the action sequences are nothing less than breathtaking, but the real success of Spider-Man 2 is its sense of priorities. With all of Hollywood's biggest and best toys at his disposal, Raimi and his writers stay true to the Marvel mythology, honoring Spider-Man creators Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, and setting the bar impressively high for the challenge of Spider-Man 3. --Jeff Shannon


DVD Features:

The first commentary track is by director Sam Raimi and a self-deprecating Tobey Maguire speaking in tandem, and producer (and Marvel CEO) Avi Arad and coproducer Grant Curtis speaking in tandem. They discuss a number of topics, including Raimi's memory of his excitement over Richard Donner's Superman and how the character of Black Cat had to be dropped from the film. The second commentary is by six members of the Oscar-nominated effects team, and one of their primary focuses is how Doc Ock's arms were achieved by a combination of puppetry and CGI.

The centerpiece of the second disc is a massive two-hour documentary that can be viewed all at once or in 12 separate pieces. It covers the development of the story, the visual effects, costumes, stunts, and sound and music. Three shorter featurettes cover Peter Parker's struggle between his personal and hero lives, Doc Ock, and the women in Spider-Man's life, and what's interesting is how they discuss those topics not just in relation to the movies but to the comic books as well. (For example, Betty Brant and Gwen Stacy had a much greater impact in the comics.) There's a scene in which you can toggle among three different camera angles, and a gallery of 17 paintings Alex Ross created for the opening sequence. The sound and picture are spectacular, though only the Superbit edition has DTS. --David Horiuchi

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Stills from Spider-Man 2 (click for larger image)

For devoted fans and nonfans alike, Spider-Man offers nothing less--and nothing more--than what you'd expect from a superhero blockbuster. Having proven his comic-book savvy with the original Darkman, director Sam Raimi brings ample energy and enthusiasm to Spidey's origin story, nicely establishing high-school nebbish Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) as a brainy outcast who reacts with appropriate euphoria--and well-tempered maturity--when a "super-spider" bite transforms him into the amazingly agile, web-shooting Spider-Man. That's all well and good, and so is Kirsten Dunst as Parker's girl-next-door sweetheart. Where Spider-Man falls short is in its hyperactive CGI action sequences, which play like a video game instead of the gravity-defying exploits of a flesh-and-blood superhero. Willem Dafoe is perfectly cast as Spidey's schizoid nemesis, the Green Goblin, and the movie's a lot of fun overall. It's no match for Superman and Batman in bringing a beloved character to the screen, but it places a respectable third. --Jeff Shannon

Eight years before Tobey Maguire was born, the animated Spider-Man spun his first web across America's television screens. The program ran from 1967 through 1970 on ABC, and imprinted its theme song, "Spider-Man, Spider-Man/ Does whatever a spider can / Spins a web, any size / Catches thieves--just like flies" on a generation of viewers.

The comic book Spider-Man, who debuted in Marvel's Amazing Fantasy in 1962, epitomized the superhero as antihero. During his battles with bizarre villains, Peter Parker was beset by self-doubts and personal problems. The animated Spider-Man was a straightforward action superhero who was too busy performing weird stunts like fashioning a boat and motor out of spider webs to worry or agonize.

From the opening titles that announce the program is "in COLOR," Spider-Man feels dated. When he fights Electro, Spidey can fend off blasts of electricity because he's added "just a little asbestos to my web liquid"; when he discovers the extent of his new powers, Peter dreams of a spot on The Ed Sullivan Show. Although the directors include Ralph Bakshi and forme