Lake Placid is total trash-and, as a result, pretty entertaining. Yet another entry in the horror sub-genre of giant animals running amok, the movie features a giant crocodile that has somehow found its way to an isolated lake in Maine. The absurdity of crocodiles in Maine sets the tone for the entire movie, which has no ambitions beyond mixing a little fright with a little humour (Curiously, this concoction was put together by David E Kelley, better known as the creator of TV's Ally McBeal and The Practice). Bridget Fonda plays a palaeontologist sent to investigate a large tooth; Bill Pullman is a fish and game warden just trying to keep the peace; Oliver Platt plays a loose-cannon mythology professor who swims with crocodiles for sport; and Brendan Gleeson is a local sheriff with a short temper and a big gun. Add a few gruesome dismemberments, Betty White as a cantankerous old broad who may have murdered her husband, and a cow hanging from a helicopter, and there you have it: Lake Placid. -Bret Fetzer, Amazon. com.

The January Man is an odd comedy-thriller about the hunt for a serial killer that could just be a case of too many stars spoil the movie. The screenplay is by John Patrick Shanley, who won an Oscar for Moonstruck. The plot goes like this: a serial killer is terrorising Manhattan, targeting one woman a month, much to the horror of the mayor (a rabid Rod Steiger, more foam than substance) and the police commissioner Frank Starkey (Harvey Keitel). There's only one man to save their bacon: enter Nick Starkey (Kevin Kline), brother of Frank, who had been a cop but was kicked out of the force for his unorthodox ways. Being a heroic kind of guy, his next career move was as a firefighter and we first see him leaping out of a burning building, carrying a child under his arm. Kline agrees to go back on one condition: that he cooks dinner for his brother's wife (the fantastically haughty Susan Sarandon), a former girlfriend for whom he still holds a candle. The pace hots up, Nick finds himself a new girlfriend, the mayor's daughter Bernadette (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio), whose main claim to fame is that her best friend was murdered by the serial killer. Oh, and of course he gets the guy, in the nick of time (literally). Confused? You won't be. The plot is an improbable potion of coincidences and divine inspiration but it's not complicated. [+]

The Grissom Gang is director Robert Aldrich's take on British author James Hadley Chase's once-notorious novel No Orchids for Miss Blandish, which was itself a synthesis of the plot of William Faulkner's Sanctuary with the lurid exposes of the criminal rampage of Arizona Clark "Ma" Barker and her alleged criminal brood. Aldrich sticks surprisingly close to Chase's plot, although he considerably deepens all the characterisations and cuts through the prurient sex sensation to create a surprisingly moving and complicated relationship between kidnapped heiress Barbara Blandish (Kim Darby) and the homicidally psychopathic but also childish Slim Grissom (Scott Wilson), the most feared member of the gang headed by the grotesquely horrible Ma (Irene Dailey). Barbara is abducted after a jewel heist gone wrong by a trio of inept small-timers, who are swiftly rubbed out by the more organised Grissom mob, and though Ma insists that after the girl's father has come across with the million-dollar ransom she will be mercilessly put down, Slim becomes enchanted with the girl, who eventually becomes his lover. In the book, the girl was drugged and raped, but here we get a delicate, creepy shifting of power to the point when Miss Blandish can browbeat her fearsome captor into mixing her a perfect martini, and the new attachment between crook and captive creates a rift with the rest of the gang that inevitably pays off in various hails of machine gunfire as the plan falls apart and the authorities close in. Aldrich manages the kind of claustrophobic black comedy games of terror and flirtation he perfected in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, but attacks the rat-tat-tat tommy gun scenes with action skills honed on The Dirty Dozen. Most of these films trusted costumes, cars and music to evoke the 1920s, but screenwriter Leon Griffiths takes care with period slang and the supporting cast have a real Depression era Warner Brothers feel, with Connie Stevens as a dumb but ferocious blonde showgirl, Tony Musante as the slick-haired official ladykiller in the gang and Robert Lansing as an impeccably down-at-heel but compassionate private detective. On the DVD: The advertised extras-notes, trivia and photo gallery-are disappointingly thin, but the 16:9 letterboxed print is almost flawless, with lovely pastels for the clothes and sets and bright scarlet for the many bursts of blood. -Kim Newman.