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This is probably the worst film ever made by Bollywood or indeed by anyone. It's beyond ridiculous. It's not particularly moving, funny or indeed anything. It's also crassly offensive. Perhaps the makers were under the influence of hallucinogenic substances? Perhaps that is how this film is intended to be viewed? The major stars who signed up for this drivel should be truly ashamed of themselves. If any other film industry produced something like this the participants would never work again. Perhaps in years to come it will become sort of painful cult classic?

I have fond memories of this episode. Starsky and Hutch were strangely largely absent. Instead Huggy teams up with a friend to solve a case. It's essentially an attempt to create a comic detective pilot. I think it worked and was very funny as a sort of crude blaxploitation genre parody. There is good chemistry between Huggy and the Turkey and lots of interesting comical African American characters. It's a shame it didn't take off as it had a lot of potential with some further refinement. Maybe the TV audience just wasn't ready for an inter racial comic detective duo. One bi product of the pilot not being picked up was at least Huggy continued in the main Starsky and Hutch series. One of the greatest comic characters of 70s cop shows.

I first viewed The Usual Suspects a decade ago, lulled into the cinema by a plethora of pretentious critics and knowing smart alecs who claimed this was the most intelligent piece of film making in a generation. I left the cinema confused and devoid of any experience which could be mistaken for entertainment.

THe Usual suspects starkly demonstrates all that is wrong with modern film making and their all too gullible audiences. I won't even begin to summarise the confusing plot if that is what you would care to call it. Fellow reviewers who try to do so are simply wasting their energy. Why bother to do so when it clearly makes no sense, has no structure,and is meaningless.

Or perhaps writer and director McQuarrie and Singer have the guile of the tailors of the apocryphal emperors non existent clothes. They are probably laughing themselves senseless at the army of critics who hail this as great film making and the sheep like audience who teemed into movie theatres at their behest.

Revisiting CE3K is a painful experience. Its almost indescribably awful.Its pretentious and portentious. To view it now is like the cinematic equivalent of nails screeching across a blackboard.

The acting is so poor its beyond description. The script contains dialogue which leaves one either cringing or howling with laughter. Example on seeing an alien emerge from the mothership someone says something akin to "Einstein was right". Truffaut replies "he was one of them" (Yuk!)

I think this movie now deserves to be watched in drunken groups at parties where its true value as a cult turkey can be truly appreciated.

The real tragedy of CE3K lies in the almost incomprehensible decison by poor Truffaut to appear in this trash. If Americans wish to punish the French over Iraq my opinion is that they should show mercy as this is surely retrospective punishment enough.

What was Spielberg thinking? I suppose it contains a few iconic images such as the technicians donning dark glasses under the bright lights of the mothership and the spindly "benevolent" aliens. It would have been a blessing if they'd turned nasty and vaporised all those crass officials and UFO freaks

And that irritating five note tune dee dee da dum dum which culminated in that juvenile jamming session between humans and the mothership .... need I go on?

Ive just been to a screening of this film at which we were honored by the presence of the Director herself.

I admire Deepa Mehta's work but this was no more than a light candy-floss pastiche of Bollywood musicals which are enjoying an unexpected and somwhat undeserved level of interest amongst Western audiences.

The film aims to spoof the typical boy meets girl Bollywood musical. It does this but its simply not funny, original or engaging. The Asian immigrant experience has been viewed from many angles and this added nothing new.

Im also frankly tired of the stereotypical wailing melodramatic Asian mother figure now a staple of most films of this type (Bend it like Beckham for example). Ultimately I just couldn't see the point of this film which ultimately was no more than an unnecessary remake of "Pretty Woman"

I must have last seen "follow me" almost twenty five years ago. I'm not even sure I can remember the plot. However, it still continues to haunt me. I remember its bright and beautiful colours. There was a flourescent Topol and en elfin Mia Farrow. But the biggest star was probably London itself. A beautiful carefree uncrowded city. Tantalisingly evocative of the flower-power era.

For me this wonderful rollercoaster of a film bears repeated pleasurable viewings. Its about the tangled lives of three very different people. Holly Hunter is the obsessive workaholic producer. Albert Brookes plays the unprepossessing but brilliant journalist. William Hurt is the affable but dumb new kid on the block, news anchor.

The classical love triangle emerges with the stunningly witty and self deprecating Brookes in love with Hunter but she of course is attracted to Hurt.

This film works on many levels. At the very least it is a brilliant comedy with the one liners flying so thick and fast that each viewing bears a new harvest of ones that you may have missed last time. Its also a film about attraction and unfulfilled romance.

But perhaps most importantly the film examines the modern obsession with physical appearance and its ultimate triumph over intellect as a valued human attribute. This is personified by the meteoric career success of the Hurt character in contrast to Brookes relative decline.

Despite being fifteen years old the film has some startingly relevant messages about modern news values and the continuing decline in journalistic standards.

This film is a classic in every sense and it is difficult to understand why it has been so neglected

Neither war films nor romances rate amongst my favourite film genres. Colonel Blimp is both of these and has to rate as my runaway favourite film. Made in 1943 by the irreplaceable icons of British film making Powell and Pressburger it displays a pacy breathless brilliance since unparalleled on the big screen.

The film follows the life and times of General Wynne-Candy from when he is an idealistic young officer returned on leave from the Boer War through to his retirement as an anachronistic and obdurate Major General.

The film is structured in three acts set in the aftermath of the Boer War, the first world war and the present (at the time of making the film) the height of the 2nd World War. But it is not just an examination of these conflicts. Its real power lies in Candy's pursuit of his ideal woman throughout each of these stages. All three women are played beautifully by Deborah Kerr who never surpassed the power of her performance in this film.

The other constant in the film is Anton Wallbrooks character of the sympathetic German with whom Candy builds a lifelong friendship and ultimately is probably Candy's only ever really satisfying relationship throughout his life.

For me the film operates on many complex levels. The romantic element is as affecting as anything you are likely to witness in the cinema. It achieves everything in the unrequited love department a la "the remains of the day" in a fraction of the time and as only part of the overall plot.

It deals with the moral complexities of war in a way that will have you debating the issues in your mind long after you have seen the film. This particular theme reaches its climax towards the end of the film when Candy is "retired" by the war ministry probably as a result of his outdated approach to strategy for the 2nd World War. Anton Wallbrook then delivers a setpiece speech which starkly outlines the evils of Nazism and the necessity to use any means to defeat it for the sake of freedom and humanity for coming generations.

Colonel Blimp with its pristine performances, absorbing plot, dazzling colour photography and economic flawless script easily gives Citizen Kane a good run for its money as the best film of all time.

Caught on a train remains one of the most powerful British TV films to ever grace the small screen. Peter, an ambitious young publisher chooses to take a transcontinental train to travel to a book fair in Germany than fly. This decision has consequences which he could never have anticipated.

The train is in itself symbolic of the chaotic state of post-war Europe. It is inhabited by a melee of anachronistic elderly passengers, ambitious business men and thuggish volatile youths.

Early on one gets a sense of romantic intrigue when Peter befriends a mysterious young American woman with whom he is sharing a carriage. This soon subsides when Frau Messner (Peggy Ashcroft) makes her dramatic entrance. From that point she dominates the drama entirely with her steely, matriarchical, petulant yet ultimately vulnerable personality.

Peter is subjected to a series of humiliations courtesy of Frau Messner's dictatorial personality. These include, being harangued into giving up his seat, almost missing the train in order to buy her magazines and ultimately being arrested by brutish german police on suspicion of being a terrorist.

Peter's ambitions of a romantic liason with the American tourist are finally dashed when she declares somewhat callously that she hates Europe and Europeans and present company is by no means excepted.

The film concludes with a scene which is a mastery of economy but yet which dramatises graphically the replacement of the old aristocratic order with that of the unfeeling ambition of modern capitalism in Western Europe.

The film deftly touches on European values at a cusp of transition, Anglo American relations,terrorism and even the rise of fascism in Hitlers Germany.

Stephen Polliakof's masterly script and Peter Duffel's crisp yet undrestated direction make one yearn for a BBC at its zenith of creativity