Jade. Joe Eszterhas ought to win a special award, because he's responsible for two of the worst films this year. At least Showgirls has campy laughs, extravagant choreography and soft-core nudity on its side. What does Jade have? Ornate set design, an extended (and very boring) car chase and an incomprehensible murder-mystery plot, for starters. Directed unpleasantly by William Friedkin, it's kind of like Basic Instinct without the sex. David Caruso does his NYPD Blue shtick--again--as an investigator trying to uncover the identity of Jade, a prostitute-turned-psychologist played by Linda Fiorentino. The role is supposed to showcase the cold, ruthless sexuality Fiorentino displayed so engagingly in The Last Seduction, but the actress is lost in this dispiriting mess. Let's hope she finds something better soon.

James And The Giant Peach. Roald Dahl's children's classic comes to life in this movie through the Disney magic of stop-motion animation. The overgrown bugs are cute, young James is darling and the animation is absolutely charming; still, if you're over 12, plan to be a little bored, especially during the singing part. Those to the left of the political spectrum may enjoy the secret embedded Marxist mythology being espoused here--James and the bugs seize the fruits of their labor (the peach!) from the evil, property owning aunts and take it across the ocean to share with the masses. Apparently Disney has been brainwashing our young for years, perhaps creating the Cold War through the seemingly "cute" shenanigans of little dancing bugs and mice. Probably with the cooperation of the phone company.

Jeffrey. Based on the play by Paul Rudnick (the scribe behind the wildly funny Libby Gelman-Waxner movie reviews in Premiere), this tale of love and sex in the age of AIDS has caustic wit to spare. The movie becomes stale, however, whenever the love story between Jeffrey (Steven Weber) and HIV-positive Steve (Michael Weiss) receives focus; the sparks don't fly and you become too aware you're watching a stage adaptation. If only Jeffrey had concentrated a little more on Rudnick's rude, crazy comedy, it would have been a great film--the kind of entertainment that could break down barriers between straights and gays with laughter. Also starring Sigourney Weaver, Nathan Lane and Patrick Stewart, whose supporting performance as an intelligent, tough-minded decorator couldn't be more perfect.

THE JERKY BOYS. Crank-call kings The Jerky Boys play themselves in this weak attempt to capitalize on the success of their recordings. The plot is a series of transparent set-ups that allow Johnny Brennan and Kamal Ahmed to fall into their familiar subversive voices and characterizations, fooling slimy New Yawkers every step of the way. The picture is harmless and watchable, with a few good laughs, but the filmmakers can't get past the fact that crank calls aren't as funny when the victims are actors pretending to be duped.

JOHNNY MNEMONIC. Keanu Reeves stars as the 21st century courier who carries the weight of the world, literally, on his shoulders in this sci-fi action flick based on the short story by the father of cyber sci-fi, William Gibson. This dark prophecy of an Information Age breeding a new world order of affluent "High Techs" vs. underground "Low Techs" follows the predictable futuristic formula--perpetually dark, dirty and dangerous. Though the special effects are spectacular, Johnny would benefit from fewer explosions and more character development--even with a bionic brain, Reeves is his old, uninspiring self.

JUDGE DREDD. Sylvester Stallone's futuristic summer offering is a comic-book hybrid of Blade Runner, Robocop and The Terminator, with parts of Star Wars and other films thrown in for good measure. At first the picture holds promise, with luxuriant effects, welcome support by Max Von Sydow and Rob Schneider and inspired, self-mocking comedy by Stallone. But that doesn't last. The movie's biggest action scenes feel like video games, and the filmmakers throw away the story's wildest possibilities--including the prospect of a battle with slimy, half-baked human clones. At the end, the picture feels unfinished.

Jumanji. Need a break from ambiguity and complexity? Is the meaninglessness of existence getting you down? Then shell out some cash and retreat to Jumanji, a special effects-jammed cross between an adventure movie and a haunted house thriller. Robin Williams stars as a man who's been trapped inside a magical board game for most of his life. When a couple of kids set him free, they're obliged by the rules to finish playing. It's a conservationist's dream: The game spews out endangered species like water from a garden hose. The special effects are cool, but the computer-generated animals aren't nearly as endearing as the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. Most of the animals don't interact with the human characters much--they just run around. And you know that talent Robin Williams has for being weirdly funny and manic? He doesn't use it here.

THE JUNGLE BOOK. Disney delivers the goods for this live-action take on the Rudyard Kipling book, which means that the Tarzan-ish tale is filled with lovely animals, impressive sets, a heroic heroine and loathsome villains. Kids may get a charge out of the story, especially with the likable, alert Jason Scott Lee in the good-hearted wildman role. But adults wary of predictability may leave the theaters with the same bland reaction provoked by the recent remake of The Three Musketeers. Disney has a way of making movies that are at once perfect and devoid of any cinematic personality.

JUNIOR. Arnold Schwarzenegger reteams with Danny DeVito for yet another high-concept comedy involving genetics. The film's one joke--Arnold going through pregnancy--goes a long way thanks to director Ivan Reitman's careful story construction and Emma Thompson's credibility-giving performance as a clumsy cryogenist. Arnold's not too bad, either; he always does much better with comedic tone in films where he is not required to act funny and kill people in the same breath. The movie has "plastic Hollywood product" stamped all over it, but at least it's baby-safe plastic.

JUST CAUSE. Sean Connery plays an anti-capital punishment Harvard law professor who begrudgingly agrees to "put his money where his mouth is" by investigating the case of a man on death row (Blair Underwood) who was coerced into a murder confession. Laurence Fishburne is the menacing small-town lawman who held the suspect at gunpoint during interrogation, and Ed Harris plays a snarlingly evil convicted serial killer who seems likely to have really committed the murder. Of course, nothing is as it seems. This premise looks like a good enough starting point for a thriller, but with the exception of Fishburne, none of the A-list team of actors brings anything more to his role than what is required by the contrivances of the script, which turns out to be a shameless hybridization of The Silence of the Lambs and Cape Fear anyway. The title sounds like the most likely reason Connery chose to appear in the movie.