Pretty as fluff, and as light. Saturday Matinee Stuff — SS's intention.

Ellen Barkin's serial smoldering puts Pacino in his place.

The neo-Nazi theme, in L.A. no less, is intense enough, but how'd it happen?

Nichols on his game is comic ebullience personified.

War is... boredom. That established, Jake Gyllenhaal is stuck.

Bobby and Ben are very funny when it comes to cats and ashes.

Jackson and Spacey keep this from hackneyed ground — barely.

It's fun when foreign accents rival diamonds as a girl's best friend.

Texas bones usually mean a family saga in the works. This one's good.

Before Angelina's many claims to fame, this. Pure star-stuff.

The less that happens, the more convincing McCarthy's story.

William Hurt's once-in-lifetime gay twist carries the show.