You cannot make an historical drama on film anymore and expect to be taken seriously if you sanitize and Hollywoodize the reality of the situation. That wasn’t the case in 1960 when Spartacus was released, but its prettified depiction of the harsh conditions of slave life — indeed, of life for everyone — makes it difficult for me not to crack wise about the film. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it, or recognize its high standing in the history of film or the collective memory of film lovers.

Men: can’t live with ’em, can’t leave ’em by the side of the road. So says a friend of mine. But that’s precisely what Mary Panton does — leave a man by the side of the road, that is — in Up at the Villa, one of those movies about the surprise of suppressed passion bursting free that I can never get enough of.

Falling in love with a married man is a sure path to heartbreak, as many a single girl has learned the hard way. Parisian Camille (Karin Viard) doesn’t want to hear about the drawbacks: she has, much to her surprise, become smitten with Alexis (Pierre-Loup Rajot). A straight-arrow local political activist, he, married with two … more…

A fender bender with a gangster. An explosion at the local yakuza HQ. A suitcase full of dirty — and bloody — money. This is the kind of day it has been for timid rental-car clerk Satoru Suzuki (Masanobu Ando). Throw in a meek nurse, Shizuko Sato (Japanese TV star Hikari Ishida), and you’ve got … more…

I am utterly in the thrall of Kevin Spacey, so whatever I say here must be taken with a grain of salt. I think he’s probably the most mesmerizing actor I’ve ever seen onscreen, and I’ve yet to see a film that he didn’t make worth seeing for his performance. And the ironic thing is, two movies that demonstrate this beguiling talent of Spacey’s are quite theatrical: The Big Kahuna is a faithful adaptation of a stage play, and Swimming with Sharks feels, at least in part, as if it could be.

The lovesick round-robin — Joe loves Mary, Mary loves Bill, and Bill loves someone else — is a fairly standard plot for romantic comedies, but it feels freshly deployed in director Bruno Barreto’s light and airy Bossa Nova. Set amongst the palm trees and sandy beaches of Rio de Janeiro, this bittersweet story follows a series of flirtatious entanglements between Brazilians and ex-pat and visiting Americans, most of whom have given up on love but find themselves persuaded to give the relationship game one more try.

I’ve heard of suffering for your art. But I don’t think I should have to suffer for someone else’s art. Not that The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas qualifies as art — in fact, it could only be called a “creative” endeavor in the widest, most liberal use of the term. Yes, images that had never been seen before were committed to film. But why?

Roger Corman Presents Carnosaur. And that’s pretty much all you have to know. Made quickly and on the cheap to cash in on the Jurassic Park craze in 1993 and sent directly to video without its supper, this 1950s-style cautionary SF tale is just like Spielberg’s dino movie, only really sucky and so bad it’s funny.