As long as there is a need for adolescent male sexual fantasy, there will be an audience for Heavy Metal. Released in 1981 and based on stories from the graphic magazine of the same name (possibly the greatest publication to simultaneously provoke imagination and masturbation), the film has since become the most popular single title in Columbia/TriStar's entire film library. That's an amazing fact considering just how silly and senseless the movie really is-an aimless, juvenile amalgam of disjointed stories and clashing visual styles, employing hundreds of animators from around the world with a near-total absence of creative cohesion. It remains, for better and worse, a midnight-movie favorite for the stoner crowd-a movie best enjoyed by randy adolescents or near-adults in an altered state of consciousness. With a framing story about a glowing green orb claiming to be the embodiment of all evil, the film shuttles through eight episodic tales of sci-fi adventure, each fueled by some of the most wretched rock music to emerge from the 1980s. The most consistent trademark is an abundance of blood-splattering violence and wet-dream sex, the latter involving a succession of huge-breasted babes who shed their clothes at the drop of a G-string. It's all quite fun in its rampantly brainless desire to fuel the young male libido, and for all its incoherence Heavy Metal remains impressive for the ambitious artistry of its individual segments. Courtesy of producer Ivan Reitman (who'd just scored a hit with Stripes), voice talents include several Canadian veterans of Second City comedy, including John Candy, Harold Ramis, Eugene Levy, and Joe Flaherty. -Jeff Shannon.

Back in 1961, Walt Disney got a little hip with 101 Dalmatians, making use of that flat Saturday morning cartoon style that had become so popular. The result is a kitschy change in animation and story. Pongo and Perdita are two lonely dalmatians who meet cute in a London park and arrange for their pet humans to marry so they can live together and raise a family. They become proud parents of 15 pups, who are stolen by the dastardly Cruella De Vil, who wants to make a fur coat out of them. Cruella has become the most popular villain in all of Disney; she's flamboyantly nasty and lots of fun. But it's the dalmatians who shine in this endearing classic, particularly those precocious pups. Telling the story from the dogs' point of view is a clever conceit, a fundamental flaw of the live-action remake. -Bill Desowitz.

This straight-to-video sequel to The Swan Princess concerns the kidnapping of Prince Derek's mother, a crime that lures the prince into danger himself. Princess Odette can save him-but only if she becomes a swan herself. Even given the lesser ambitions and budgets afforded direct-to-video sequels, it's hard to accept that this boxy, unexciting movie has the same director (Richard Rich) as the fine, first feature in the series. More like a Saturday-morning cartoon than a real film, this is a disappointment, though kids who couldn't care less about scale might get caught up in the story. -Tom Keogh.

Disney's adaptation of the beloved fairy tale became a classic in its own right, thanks to some memorable tunes (including "A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes," "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo," and the title song) and some endearingly cute comic relief. We all know the story-the wicked stepmother and stepsisters simply won't have it, this uppity Cinderella thinking she's going to a ball designed to find the handsome prince an appropriate sweetheart, but perseverance, animal buddies, and a well-timed entrance by a fairy godmother make sure things turn out all right. There are a few striking sequences of pure animation-for example, Cinderella is reflected in bubbles drifting through the air-and the design is rich and evocative throughout. It's a simple story padded here agreeably with comic business, particularly Cinderella's rodent pals (dressed up conspicuously like the dwarf sidekicks of another famous Disney heroine) and their misadventures with a wretched cat named Lucifer. There's also much harrumphing and exposition spouting by the King and the Grand Duke. It's a much simpler and more graceful work than the more frenetically paced animated films of today, which makes it simultaneously quaint and highly gratifying. -David Kronke.

While it pales in comparison to the outstanding animation of its predecessor, Don Bluth's imaginative if somewhat graceless All Dogs Go to Heaven, this 1995 sequel has some nice moments of its own. Charlie Sheen replaces Burt Reynolds as the voice of Charlie Barkin, the afterlife-stranded pooch who sought vengeance against his killer in the previous film but instead discovered the joys of earthly love and community. This time, a bored Charlie, looking for a little adventure, reteams with his old pal Itchy (voiced by Dom DeLuise) to retrieve Gabriel's Horn after it's stolen. Dropping down from Dog Heaven to take on his old nemesis (and killer), Carface (Ernest Borgnine), Charlie falls for a sexy Irish setter (Sheena Easton) and helps a boy caught in a jam. Featuring grand pop songs by the legendary songwriting team of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, All Dogs Go to Heaven 2 provides kids with a simpler story than Bluth's original film, as well as less unsettling violence. On the downside, director Paul Sabella, a Hanna-Barbera veteran who produced television's The Smurfs, either can't or won't stretch much as an artist here. -Tom Keogh.

This excellent theatrical feature is loosely based on the Swan Lake story. Princess Odette, having been turned into a swan by a sorcerer's spell, is held captive at the enchanted lake with friends Jean-Bob the frog, Speed the turtle, and Puffin the bird. Along comes Prince Derek, who becomes involved in liberating her by taking on the villain. The movie has been criticized for being too similar to Sleeping Beauty, but once you're watching it-with its strong characters, entertaining vocal performances (John Cleese and Steven Wright are particularly funny), fine artwork, and action-such complaints are negligible. -Tom Keogh.