Stretch thoroughly beforehand, though.

In this unprecedented full-text adaptation of The Bard's celebrated play, Kenneth Branagh yanks the story out of its usual setting of musty castles and dark shadows and thrusts it into a world of piercing, sterile light. The sinister and the pathetic cannot hide, instead unfolding amidst mirrors, gold chandeliers and polished marble floors.

The setting is also a comfortable medium between Shakespeare's time and Verona Beach, Florida: the (superficially) elegant 19th century. The props and costuming alone makes this picture a treat.

But that's just the sprinkles on the icing on the cake.

The significance of using Shakespeare's full text cannot be understated. Branagh used scenes and plays-within-plays that even most English textbooks omit, most notably the subplot of Fortinbras of Oslo.

Fortinbras lost lands to Hamlet's father and spends most of the film plotting the Denmark family's overthrow, which meanwhile is busy killing itself off. The inclusion adds a rarely seen perspective to the story; while the world within the castle crumbles, the world without surges up to swallow it.

Branagh's capable directing is outdone only by his intense, but wholly accessible, portrayal of the hesitant prince. It would be hard to imagine a more flawless rendition of such an embattled soul -- Branagh glides seamlessly between brooding, fear, spitting rage and demented mirth, giving Hamlet a tangible humanity often lacking in grandiose performances.

Almost without exception, though, the entire cast brings this natural, unassuming quality to the people they portray. Julie Christie and Derek Jacobi excel as the queen and new king of Denmark. The desire to know more of the queen's experience is more a shortcoming of the author than the actor; Jacobi's depiction of the king's internal unraveling is superb.

Kate Winslet (Sense and Sensibility) does well in giving Ophelia more depth than the simpering mouse her character is most often made out to be. She is as convincing in her elegance as she is in her hysteria.

Ironically, none of the Big Names rattled off in promoting this film -- Gerard Depardieu, Jack Lemmon, Charlton Heston and Billy Crystal for starters -- put in above-par performances. Robin Williams probably fired his agent after his cameo.

Even so, none of the players really disappoint, which is quite an accomplishment with a cast of this size and breadth.

There are moments in "Hamlet" where you wish Branagh would turn down the melodrama just a tad. Although they're far from the grotesquely overblown style with which he he bloated "Mary Shelley's Frankenstein," there were a few you-have-got-to-be-kidding chuckles to be had.

One of Hamlet's soliloquys, delivered on a sweeping snow field (replete with pompous music that all but drowned out his words), was just a few snarls short of a really bad Patton impersonation.

Branagh also makes frequent use of jarring, intrusive flashback sequences -- fuzzy, slow-motion cut-ins that seem to insult the audience's ability to remember anything.

But these occasional missteps into heavy-handedness and cliche are easily forgiven (as is the numb backside brought on by the film's four-hour length).

Branagh has given us a treasure. Not only does his "Hamlet" have a scope not likely to be attempted again anytime soon, but its story is told in an unaffected, heartfelt way that'll make you think you can finally appreciate Shakespeare's mastery.

[ there's a web site ]

Now, I made the mistake of reading a few reviews already out there before taking it in, and found "Mars Attacks!" slathered with words like "overdone," "pointless," "shallow," "juvenile" and the like.

They were right. The movie was great.

I must, of course, disclaim "great" with a few dozen asterisks, and make it clear that "Mars Attacks" will only truly tickle a small, warped moviegoing demographic. It teeters on the line between "Rocky Horror" bad and "Star Trek V" bad.

The difference between "Mars Attacks" and "ID4" is that Burton's piece doesn't take itself seriously. It doesn't take anything seriously.

Granted, there is no delicacy in this movie. It's black humor is ground in as gently as a train wreck. There's no depth to any of the characters, which are practically paper masks on the faces of a genuine all star cast. And the humor is about the caliber you'd expect from Beavis and Butthead (heck, the aliens sound like 'em). The plot could be aptly be summarized thusly:

"We come in peace... NOT!"

Yet, while it's barely a caricature of a B movie, "Mars Attacks" is oddly entertaining. It throws things at you that shouldn't be funny, and yet -- awkwardly -- you still laugh.

I doubt Burton was trying for anything Earth-shattering with "Mars Attacks." Instead, he allows us to join him and the cast as they bounce shamelessly within the rubber-room confines of the '50s "alien invasion movie" formula.

There's no message. Burton revels in that fact. Esteemed reviewers -- all agog over the big names and big budget -- sadly drowned themselves in expectations.

Beneath the thick layer of celebrities (Jack Nicholson, Gleenn Close, Pierce Brosnan, etc.), you find another layer of celebrities. Burton threw in an increasingly cute Lukas Haas, unearthed Jim Brown and Pam Grier, and managed to shoehorn Michael J. Fox, Danny DeVito and Sarah Jessica Parker in as well.

Beneath it all, another notable score by Danny Elfman and special effects that I know the hams at Industrial Light and Magic loved putting together.

[ there's a web site ]

Director Baz Luhrmann takes a lot -- and I mean a lot -- of liberties in this adaptation of the Bard's perhaps best known play. I will admit the first five minutes, switchblade-edited like a Beastie Boys video, made me want to walk out of the theater.

With "camp" oozing out of every corner -- from the electric blue lowriders to the billboard ads written in Old English -- it was difficult to put aside my pretention and stay for the rest... but boy am I'm glad I did.

In fact, I'll wager the dizzying initial descent into this decidedly 90s film was made difficult to swallow on purpose. By the time the action settles -- and it only settles a little -- every expectation brought into the theater will have been shattered.

It sounds simple, and risky, enough: Take "Romeo and Juliet" and set it in a modern-day Miami-esque city. The Montagues and Capulets are corporate moguls, their kids are gangs unto themselves, and TV newscasters are the chorus. Yet throughout, the dialogue is one-hundred percent original Shakespearean dialogue -- "Wherefore art thou Romeo" and all.

Astonishing as it sounds, it worked.

It worked even though Luhrmann -- who also directed the daring "Strictly Ballroom" -- often thumbs his nose at the play's best-known conventions. The "balcony scene," for example, wasn't... but it worked. His unprecedented treatment of the doomed couple's death scene* also worked, even though it came so close to going too far it made me gasp out loud.

Leonardo DiCaprio is a fine Romeo, though he hasn't advanced much since "Basketball Diaries" (in fact, one scene seems straight out of the earlier picture). Claire Danes, on the other hand, is fabulous. Whether in a pair of wings or a pair of jeans, she is Shakespeare's Juliet (or, as her Hispanic nurse calls her, "Hooliet!")

As Tybalt, John Leguizamo is... John Leguizamo. Paul Sorvino and Brian Dennehy, as the feuding families' patriarchs, put in only passable performances.

The strongest performance of all comes from Pete Postlethwaite (Father Laurence), who delivers his lines with such intensity and natural fluency, you don't even notice they're in Old English. Only he could deliver Shakespearean lines while standing an urban post office and still have it make complete sense.

Finally, the soundtrack is (surprise!) a must-have. I haven't seen whether it contains the choir-boy version of "When Doves Cry" used in the movie, but even if not, it's excellent.

* If I ruined the ending for you, you need to get out more often.

[ there's a web site ]

Jeffrey Wright plays Basquiat, but honestly I think anyone could have played the star role. That, in fact, may have been the point -- for it is the people who surround Basquiat, manipulating and coloring his life, that really matter in telling his tale.

Believe it or not, David Bowe stole the show for me, playing the part of Andy Warhol with a weird, dizzy melancholy that rivals the temprament of the late artist himself. He plays the role of Basquiat's mentor/exploiter with amazing skill.

Dennis Hopper leaves you scratching your head as he exudes very uncharacteristic dis-ease and subtlety as an international art trader. Clair Forlani -- returning to the screen as Gina, Basquat's pre-discovery love -- does what she can with her often ineffective role. I have no doubt Forlani will soon be one of the most graceful actresses in tinsel town.

To a great extent, cameos and other fringe characters are the best parts of this picture. Gary Oldman, Christopher Walken, William Dafoe and even Courtney Love make an appearance.

Basquiat continues the run of heroin-tragedies that have popped up this year, but unlike its contemporaries has an ending much more honest, if not as satisfying.

The soundtrack, not surprisingly, is a must have.

[ there's a web site ]

Much as I hate to admit it, Keanu Reeves does a fine job this time around. His peculiar appeal, whatever it is, fits Jjaks -- estranged brother to Sam (Vincent D'Onofrio) -- perfectly. The chemistry between Reeves and unwilling-bride Freddie, sharply played by a blonde Cameron Diaz, wavers from cute to ravenously passionate.

Sadly, Tuesday Weld -- easily one of Hollywood's most overlooked but best actresses -- spends only a few seconds on screen. Dan Aykroyd plays a prominent role, but his gray performance in this film is easily overshadowed by the natural sibling rivalry Reeves and D'Onofrio display.

The Tarantino influence is strong, from the obsession with ear injuries to the central role of a diner -- tended by one Courtney Love -- to one eerily familiar, frantic gun-pointing scene.

But "Feeling Minnesota" definitely stands on its own. The story is engagingly told through excellent dialogue, off-centered cinematography and awkward but excellent treatments of violence and sex.

"Feeling Minnesota" joins a number of recent films with excellent soundtracks. The music meshed seamlessly in every scene, requiring a conscious effort to nail down. Bob Dylan to Helmet to Nancy Sinatra to Los Lobos... I'm going to get this one.

I take only mild issue with the ending, which I suspect might have been "happified" from what I feel the characteristic -- but easily infuriating -- conclusion would have been. See it and tell me what you think.

[ there's a web site ]

Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeremy Northam, Toni Collette.

Real review coming eventually.

Jonny Lee Miller, Ewan McGregor, Kely MacDonald.

Real review coming eventually.

[ there's a web site ]

Science, acadamia, computer programming, laboratories, international espionage, space observatories, museums and Keanu Reeves.

Try as he might, Andrew Davis -- director of this Keanu flick -- has, at best, succeeded at creating... well, another Keanu flick. I didn't expect anything, and I wasn't disappointed.

So much potential, so many intriguing characters, so many missed chances at a really good story. Ironically, every twenty minutes one character or another says something like, "It's a lot more complicated than that," but then the plot (!) moves on, not troubling itself with substance.

It has decent chase sequences (Reeves does a lot of skidding around on his back) and a couple of impressive kabooms, but when the movie ended -- and not a moment too soon -- I had no idea why anything happened.

The script pauses to overexplain the points a five-year-old could've guessed (the FBI and CIA at odds? Never!), but merrily skips over some serious logic holes (why can't you just unplug it?).

What was most painful for me was watching Morgan Freeman, one of my favorite actors, stammer his way through horrid, rancid soliloquys. Poor Rachel Weisz also made a good effort. I hope being in this turkey won't kill her career (now I have to see "Stealing Beauty").

The "List of Eeeks" could go for several pages: the harped-upon themes of patriotism and saving mankind, the "snappy one-liners" that were about as crisp as tofu, the awful incidental music (even for an action flick), and the painful offhand references to the internet, like this winner of an e-mail address: