The Little Vampire is excellently acted and great to look at. Stuart Little's Jonathan Lipnicki carries, on his pint-sized shoulders, his every scene as 8-year-old Tony, befriender of vampires, and the Scottish setting lends itself nicely to spookiness. But where this video earns most points is in the plot department. A continent away from his native California, Tony's having a tough time making new friends when a band of vagabond vampires enters his life through his bedroom window. The encounter seems pure coincidence at first, but then the scary truth surfaces: Tony, though he's not a vampire himself, has "sympathy for our kind," as the dad of the bat-linked brood puts it. Visions of vampire happenings from generations past invade the third-grader's consciousness, and they hold the key to the clan's current gypsy-like predicament. Through his clairvoyance and, by extension, the discovery of a long-lost amulet, the mostly benevolent bloodsuckers are able to reclaim their rightful status as proper cave dwellers in their homeland. Clueless-parent predicaments abound and are cleverer than most-Tony's mom and dad smirk at their son's vampire-obsessed imagination until the cape-draped heads of the clan drop by for a visit-and the gang's adventures eluding a bumbling vampire hunter are genuinely chuckleworthy. At-home Twizzler munchers ages 8 and older won't soon tire of this charmer of a Transylvanian transplant. -Tammy La Gorce.

There's no getting around a simple, basic truth: watching Lawrence of Arabia in any home-video format represents a compromise. There's no better way to appreciate this epic biographical adventure than to see it projected in 70 millimeter onto a huge theater screen. That caveat aside, David Lean's masterful "desert classic" is still enjoyable on the small screen, especially if viewed in widescreen format. (If your only option is to view a "pan & scan" version, it's best not to bother; this is a film for which the widescreen format is utterly mandatory. ) Peter O'Toole gives a star-making performance as T. E. Lawrence, the eccentric British officer who united the desert tribes of Arabia against the Turks during World War I. Lean orchestrates sweeping battle sequences and breathtaking action, but the film is really about the adventures and trials that transform Lawrence into a legendary man of the desert. Lean traces this transformation on a vast canvas of awesome physicality; no other movie has captured the expanse of the desert with such scope and grandeur. Equally important is the psychology of Lawrence, who remains an enigma even as we grasp his identification with the desert. [+]

With good production values and a load of suspense, Atomic Train delivers the goods-ahead of schedule. A rich bureaucrat with a Porsche, a goatee, and a defective sense of morality places a defective Russian nuclear warhead aboard a defective American train for cheap disposal, but the engine loses its brakes and hurls out of control toward Denver. Will it explode? Will it wipe out half the city? Will the thoughts and prayers of the President-played by Edward Herrmann, in his best Chrysler-salesman mode-do any good? Will Rob Lowe, the major hero of this epic, ever be able to save his career? Atomic Train hauls along every disaster-flick formula you can think of: an estranged couple bonding again during a time of crisis (you begin to miss the hysterical Harvey Fierstein character of Independence Day); urban rioting and mayhem; government officials wearing headsets and breathlessly watching video monitors; trigger-happy military men; high-speed stunts; escapes by helicopter; clean-up crews in white spacesuits; many scenes of families being reunited after subplot cliffhangers, to major-key crescendos on the soundtrack. The only typical element missing is a dog saved from a fire at the last minute. But, you have to admit, what Atomic Train does it does with pizzazz. Everyone's a hero in this movie and almost everyone faces great danger, including Esai Morales, an estranged husband and father; Kristin Davis, the ex-wife with child he's competing with Lowe for; and Zack Ward, the assistant train engineer. It's interesting to see what Ward looks like and what he's doing so many years after playing the yellow-eyed bully in A Christmas Story (hint: a strikingly handsome decent actor). That's one of the many guilty pleasures of this film, with its post-Armageddon tone of overly heroic but ultimately disposable machismo. And explosions. Lots of explosions. [+]

Buried like a bone in a snowdrift, Balto never achieved the theatrical success it should have, but it's worth digging up. The film is structured on the true tale of a lead sled dog, Balto, that brought a diphtheria antitoxin to the small town of Nome, Alaska. The film balances comedy, villany, and drama very well and the voice work is above average. Safe family viewing, as even the villain's comeuppance manages a civilized resolution. The only problem is that the film never explains why these events in Alaska inspired New Yorkers to build a statue to the dog in Central Park. Maybe Balto eventually got mugged there. -Keith Simanton.

Only Joel and Ethan Coen, the fraternal director and producer team behind art-house hits such as The Big Lebowski and Fargo and masters of quirky and ultra-stylish genre subversion, would dare nick the plot line of Homer's Odyssey for a comic picaresque saga about three cons on the run in 1930s Mississippi. Our wandering hero in this case is one Ulysses Everett McGill, a slick-tongued wise guy with a thing about hair pomade (George Clooney, blithely sending up his own dapper image) who talks his chain-gang buddies (Coen-movie regular John Turturro and newcomer Tim Blake Nelson) into lighting out after some buried loot he claims to know of. En route they come up against a prophetic blind man on a railroad truck, a burly, one-eyed baddie (the ever-magnificent John Goodman), a trio of sexy singing ladies, a blues guitarist who's sold his soul to the devil, a brace of crooked politicos on the stump, a manic-depressive bank robber, and-well, you get the idea. Into this, their most relaxed film yet, the Coens have tossed a beguiling ragbag of inconsequential situations, a wealth of looping, left-field dialogue, and a whole stash of gags both verbal and visual. O Brother (the title's lifted from Preston Sturges's classic 1941 comedy Sullivan's Travels) is furthermore graced with glowing, burnished photography from Roger Deakins and a masterly soundtrack from T-Bone Burnett that pays loving homage to American '30s folk styles-blues, gospel, bluegrass, jazz, and more. And just to prove that the brothers haven't lost their knack for bad-taste humor, we get a Ku Klux Klan rally choreographed like a cross between a Nuremberg rally and a Busby Berkeley musical. -Philip Kemp.