This moody 1986 buddy picture and police drama represented a change of pace for both stars. Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines play two Chicago police detectives who, feeling gun-shy about the inherent danger of their jobs, contemplate retirement in Florida. They just can't shake the allure of their work, however, particularly when their pursuit of a notorious drug dealer (Jimmy Smits) turns personal and deadly. While there are more than enough light moments in Running Scared, generated by the easy and convincing rapport between Crystal and Hines, director Peter Hyams (The Star Chamber, 2010) succeeds in straddling the two disparate moods to create a taut and engaging action picture. -Robert Lane Running Scared-a moody buddy picture and police drama-represented a change of pace for both stars in 1986. Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines play two Chicago police detectives who, feeling gun-shy about the inherent danger of their jobs, contemplate retirement in Florida. They just can't shake the allure of their work, however, particularly when their pursuit of a notorious drug dealer (Jimmy Smits) turns personal and deadly. While there are more than enough light moments generated by the easy and convincing rapport between Crystal and Hines, director Peter Hyams (The Star Chamber, 2010) succeeds in straddling the two disparate moods to create a taut and engaging action picture. -Robert Lane, Amazon. com.

Steven Seagal has always been an awkward action hero. Initially, he had a certain amount of credibility thanks to his nebulous association with secret government agencies and mastery of Aikido, which helped to excuse his bad acting. But as a self-righteous action hero in the vein of Schwarzenegger and Stallone, Seagal fell into unintentional self-parody faster and more dramatically than either of his two predecessors. In Out for Justice, Seagal plays Gino Felino, a Brooklyn-born cop known and respected by everyone-both good and bad-in his neighbourhood. The worst of the baddies is Richie Madano (William Forsythe), a crack-smoking killer who murders his partner and terrorises all. Technically, Felino is a terrible cop-touching evidence at murder scenes, stealing evidence, intimidating witnesses-but only by breaking those rules can he bring in this horrible criminal. As his soon-to-be-ex-wife discovers, he does everything because he cares too much. Julianna Margulies (ER) has a small but thankless role as Richie's hooker girlfriend, and Gina Gershon (Bound, Showgirls) has an equally thankless role as his foul-mouthed, bar-owning sister. -Andy Spletzer, Amazon. com.

Jack Nicholson was born to play the devil and in George Miller's adaptation of John Updike's novel he plays it for all he's worth. As a wolfish womaniser summoned by three bored women in a picturesque New England town, he's sating all of his appetites with a rakish grin. Cher, Susan Sarandon and Michelle Pfeiffer play the women who discover their untapped magical powers by accident. The smart and sexy singles, out of place in the conservatism of their village, find happiness, however briefly, in the arms and bed of the libidinous devil but he's got his own ulterior motives. Miller revels in the sensual display of sex, food and magic, whipping up a storm of effects that finally get out of hand in an overblown ending. It's a handsome film with strong performances all around but the mix of anarchic comedy and supernatural horror doesn't always gel and Miller seems to lose the plot in his zeal for cinematic excitement. The performances ultimately keep the film aloft: the hedonistic joy that Nicholson celebrates with every leering gaze and boorish vulgarity is almost enough to make bad form and chauvinism cool. -Sean Axmaker.

The leisurely pace of the horror miniseries Rose Red is like settling into a long book full of detail-a book not unlike those of Stephen King, who wrote the script. The story (about a researcher into the paranormal who takes a team of psychics into a haunted house) recycles themes that King has used before-a telekinetic girl, a house with its own consciousness-but for his fans, the familiarity is probably comfortable and even enjoyable. The cast (including Nancy Travis, Julian Sands, and Melanie Lynsky from Heavenly Creatures) gives committed performances, and the special effects are television-grade but used pretty well. Most of it doesn't make much sense, but at its best Rose Red is absurd and creepy at the same time. -Bret Fetzer.

One would think that after the aquatic horror of the previous three Jaws movies the remnants of the beleaguered Brodie family would be happily nursing their hydrophobia somewhere in Kansas. However, in Jaws-The Revenge, the fourth episode of the saga, we find that Ellen (Lorraine Gary) is still living on a tiny island, and her eldest son Michael (Lance Guest) has become, of all things, a marine biologist. Even when her younger son is slaughtered by yet another giant shark, all Ellen can do to take her mind off it is go to the Bahamas and gaze at the sea. There she embarks on a romantic affair with salty sea-pilot Hoagie (a nice turn from Michael Caine), but this peace is shattered as the shark begins to target her grandchildren and friends. Where this monster-with-a-grudge comes from, bearing in mind that the sharks in each of the previous movies got blown up or electrocuted, is something of a conundrum. But logic is clearly not a concern in a script that demands only that this film should bear some tenuous relation to its predecessors. The ghost of the far-superior original looms large here-in the form of Ellen's flashbacks (which actually use footage from the earlier films), scenes which overtly refer to moments from the series (Michael's son mimics him at the dinner table, as Michael once did to his own father) and a set littered with conspicuously large photos of Roy Scheider. There are nice touches-Michael and his Jamaican partner Jake (Mario Van Peebles) fit the shark with a heart monitor which lets off an eerie blipping sound when it approaches, it is nice to see a romance between more "mature" characters portrayed so warmly, and when the maternal Ellen forms the resolve to protect her family it even looks like she may briefly become a sort of geriatric Ripley character (a la Aliens). But with a shark that has never looked more rubbery, set pieces which lack suspense and invention and a short running time (only 86 minutes) it is hard to shake off the sensation that this is a made-for-TV film. Those wanting a dose of tongue-in-cheek killer-creature action would be better off avoiding this wet fish and taking in a Jaws rip-off with a little more bite, such as Deep Blue Sea or Deep Rising. [+]

Millionaire businessman Thomas Crown (Steve McQueen) is also a high-stakes thief; his latest caper is an elaborate heist at a Boston bank. Why does he do it? For the same reason he flies gliders, bets on golf strokes and races dune buggies: he needs the thrill to feel alive. Insurance investigator Vicky Anderson (Faye Dunaway) gets her own thrills by busting crooks, and she's got Crown in her cross hairs. Naturally, these two will get it on, because they have a lot in common: they're not people, they're walking clothes racks. (McQueen looks like he'd rather be in jeans than Crown's natty three-piece suits. ) The Thomas Crown Affair is a catalogue of 60s conventions, from its clipped editing style to its photographic trickery (the inventive Haskell Wexler behind the camera) to its mod design. You can almost sense director Norman Jewison deciding to "tell his story visually," like those newfangled European films; this would explain the long passages of Michel Legrand's lounge jazz ladled over endless montages of the pretty Dunaway and McQueen at play. (The opening-credits song, "Windmills of Your Mind," won an Oscar. ) It's like a "What Kind of Man Reads Playboy?" ad come to life, and much more interesting as a cultural snapshot than a piece of storytelling. -Robert Horton.