BABE. Animal training and animatronics blend seamlessly in this terrific children's story about a polite piglet who breaks through the rules of barnyard conformity to do her own thing--herd sheep. Made in Australia, with perfectly-cast voices and an impressive assemblage of good-looking animals, the movie has storytelling chutzpah on its side: The scenes are playfully divided into episodic chapters, and the atmosphere feels like it was painted onto the screen directly from the most imaginative kids' books. Thankfully, dark, Orwellian moments keep the cute bits in balance--something more children's movies ought to do.

BAD BOYS. Does the world really need another Lethal Weapon-type movie? Testosterone-brained producers Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer think it does. So they've harnessed their glands to make this amazingly mindless and uncreative prick flick starring Will Smith and Martin Lawrence. Machine guns fire (but never hit the heroes), cars explode, bad guys come back to life at the last minute, nothing anyone does makes any sense, and everybody says "fuck" at least 47 times. And it's long. All in all, an excruciating piece of work.

Badlands. A stunning film about a boy and a girl who go on a senseless killing spree in the Badlands of the Dakotas and Montana by Terrence Malick, the critically revered director who has made only two films in 20 years. Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek make a haunting young couple--hollowed-out, affable and detached, they drive around visiting friends and murdering, demonstrating a warped misunderstanding of the nature of morality and the American dream. Beautiful shots of barren landscapes and the spare, elegant script combine to create one of the most evocative and intimate portraits of emptiness and alienation since the paintings of De Chirico. Badlands plays at The Screening Room, 127 E. Congress St., Friday through Sunday. Call 622-2262 for show times.

BARB WIRE. In this futuristic remake of Casa Blanca, Pamela Anderson Lee, that marvel of modern science and technology, plays a leather-clad version of Rick, the character Bogart made famous in the original. Between making almost as many costume changes as Jane Fonda in Barbarella, the heavily armed Barb strikes a blow for freedom and tightly-laced corsets as she fights the evil fascist government that has taken over America. You go, girl! Pamela Lee's brilliant performance is only enhanced by the knowledge that she had a tumor the size of an orange removed from an ovary during shooting. Nice dairy.

THE BASKETBALL DIARIES. This autobiographical retelling of Jim Carroll's teenage slip into heroin-addicted oblivion during the mid-'60s invests too much effort in gritty realism and not enough into rounding its character or forming a narrative. We basically see the addict fail to redeem himself over and over, until one day, miraculously, he does. As directed by Scott Kalvert, a verteran of MTV videos, the movie is a stylish late-night lark with all the insight of a one-note after school special. Tough, naked performances by Leonard DiCaprio, Lorraine Bracco and Ernie Hudson only accentuate the film's shortcomings.

BATMAN FOREVER. This summer's Batman has a new face (Val Kilmer), a new girlfriend (Nicole Kidman), a new sidekick (Chris O'Donnell, playing Robin), and two new villains (Jim Carrey and Tommy Lee Jones) to battle. He's also got a new director, Joel Schumacher, who directs the spectacle with a glossy light touch that seems altogether more appropriate than the self-consciously moody approach Tim Burton took during the first two outings. Though the series has never been worthy of the hype it has generated, this one's pretentious aspects are transparent enough that you can enjoy the movie for the slick, stupid, self-referential commercial that it is. For once, nobody will believe the lie that a film about a comic book character adds up to a grand artistic vision; that's a blessing that makes this picture the lesser of the three evils.

Bed of Roses. If you liked Untamed Heart and Sleepless in Seattle, then Bed of Roses is just your kind of budding romance. Mary Stuart Masterson (last seen as an emotionally-distraught love object in Benny and Joon) plays the tough-because-I-have-to-be career gal who's whole life is turned upside down by an anonymous flower delivery. Christian Slater (last seen as the mysterious, romantic rescuer in Untamed Heart) plays the impetuous introvert who holds the key to the mystery. Bed of Roses is more a collection of scenes than a story, following the standard premise that two sad lives somehow add up to one happy one. Character development is dismally lacking, but the universal fairy tale that true love will find us--and save us--in spite of ourselves is so familiar we hardly notice. Enjoy the fantasy--in real life, these people really would turn out to be psychos.

BEFORE SUNRISE. Richard Linklater's latest picture follows a one-night romance between an American Slacker and a Parisian beauty as they stroll about the streets of Vienna. The film is talky as can be, but all the talk is directed toward emphasizing the gradual connection of two souls, and the result is touching, almost haunting. Despite minor annoyances, Ethan Hawke does a good job in his boyish role, while Julie Delpy is perfect as a French fantasy girl too smart to enjoy being a French fantasy girl.

Belle de Jour. Catherine Deneuve is fascinatingly vacant in this re-release of Lois Buñuel's 1967 portrait of a woman's erotic imagination. The film was racy in its time and it's racy now--in fact, since the clothes are back in style it hardly seems dated. Deneuve is the bored wife of a handsome doctor who doesn't turn her on. She lies chastely beside him, having elaborate degradation fantasies, which she tries to live out by secretly working as a prostitute. Fantasies, dreams and reality intertwine as Deneuve glides through it all on cruise control, her make-up perfect, her icy surface concealing a knot of contradictions. The film, like Deneuve, has a formal coolness that masks an active imagination. Here as in many of his films, Buñuel gives equal time to dream and waking life. But for all its naughty pleasures, Belle de Jour is only a teaser compared to Buñuel's surrealistic classics like The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.

BIO-DOME. That's right, it's based on the big sphere right here in our own Sonoran Desert, but don't expect to see any saguaros in the background. Cool, green hills frame most of the outdoor shots, and you'll have plenty of time to examine the foliage in this movie as you wait for something funny to happen. Pauly Shore and Stephen Baldwin play two dumb junior-college students who accidentally get locked in the bio-dome, a large, glass-encased ecological experiment. While they're inside, they do the same things they did outside: make fart jokes and hit on chicks. If this is your idea of a good time, maybe you'll enjoy Bio-Dome--but don't bet on it.

The Birdcage. Mike Nichols' big-budget remake of the 1978 La Cage aux Folles involves a gay drag club owner, Armand Goldman (Robin Williams), who lives with his star performer and longtime boyfriend Albert (Nathan Lane), and the imminent marriage of Goldman's son (Dan Futterman) to the daughter of a right-wing, homophobic, antisemitic senator played by Gene Hackman. Though funny at times, the plot jerks from one unsettling relationship to the next, as the already oxymoronic couple (raging queens who strangely show no affection toward one another) try to act like straight people to impress the senator. The hilarious dinner party scene aside, the humor-with-a-message plot is a bit too saccharine for grown-up tastes.

Black Sheep. Chris Farley and David Spade of Saturday Night Live dominate this fat guy/thin guy, dumb guy/smart guy formula comedy. Farley plays the accident-prone, embarrassing brother of an aspiring senator--a sort of Billy Carter figure. Spade plays the political handler sent to babysit him. Both characters seem to be in their early twenties, though the actors are older. The script is predictable and bland with some unbearably sentimental moments thrown in just to torture the audience. Farley, in his blithe willingness to humiliate himself over and over, does manage to be quite funny sometimes, despite the material. The director, Penelope Spheeris, made some wonderful films in the eighties but has sunk to projects like this and The Beverly Hillbillies movie. If you want to see something honest and funny, rent her wonderful documentary about headbangers: The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years.

BOYS ON THE SIDE. The boys are on the side indeed, with the main dish of course being women--their feelings towards life, men and especially each other. Whoopi Goldberg and Mary Louise Parker are budding odd-couple-style buddies making a road trip from New York to Tucson, and Drew Barrymore is the bubbly friend who joins them. It's all merriment and Cranberries songs until the three women arrive in the Old Pueblo, where they become housemates and emotions start running deep. This unabashedly button-pushing movie from director Herbert Ross (Steel Magnolias) actually manages to achieve the right tone for its manipulations, and you don't mind giving in to them--not even when terminal diseases and vagina jokes are thrown into the mix.

THE BRADY BUNCH MOVIE. Here's a story. Of a Hollywood gimmick: Giving old TV shows expensive big-screen whirls. The idea is to strike gold. Just like Wayne's World. Until the audience hurls. ...Still, The Brady Bunch Movie does pretty well for itself, especially during the giddily absurd opening scenes, with their perfect casting and meticulous recreation of the show's flaky style. The picture's lack of its own ideas--other than the single joke of Brady obliviousness to the '90s--causes the latter half to lose air like one of Bobby's flat bicycle tires, but fans of The Bunch should be tickled nonetheless.

Brain Candy. This first movie from the Canadian comedy troupe Kids in the Hall is notable for its rampant weirdness and Monty Python-esque, sketch-based humor. Each member of the all-boy troupe plays a variety of parts, both male and female, and half the fun of this movie is watching the actors transform themselves from character to character. The story involves a conventionally nerdy scientist who invents a happiness drug called Gleeminex, then traces the sheer hell of the perky world where this drug is sold over the counter. Elaborate sets, lighting and camera work add to the surreal, original flavor of this film. It's funny in a disturbing, nightmarish kind of way.

BRAVEHEART. Writer-director Mel Gibson clobbers the audience with three hours of blunt storytelling about a rebellious Scottish clansman who led soldiers into effective battle against British tyrrany. Much of the movie's violence is grippingly effective, especially a couple of well-orchestrated fight sequences that, though aesthetically closer to the limbless knight scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail than the poetic violence of Sam Peckinpah, are still quite powerful. But Gibson's relentless chant of "Freedom!" and the film's overtones of romantic martyrdom don't really stick; mostly, the movie leaves you with a dispiriting sense of human brutality.

THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY. Based on the popular Robert James Waller book, this Clint Eastwood tearjerker glorifies an affair between a neglected housewife (Meryl Streep) and a worldly photographer (Eastwood). And oh, what a lovely fantasy for lonely middle-aged housewives it is: The sex is great, the encounter is brief, and there are no consequences afterwards. It's about as passionate and tough-minded as a Hallmark card, but Streep's expert performance renders many of the scenes touching enough to draw out a tear or two.

Broken Arrow. It's good guys against bad in this zippy action flick from acclaimed Hong Kong director John Woo. John Travolta plays an appealingly evil nuclear weapons thief trying to waste the world for fun and profit while Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis do their spunky best to stop him. Travolta's giddy, over-the-top performance along with Woo's creative, reckless directorial style raise Broken Arrow above the humdrum predictability of most action flicks. (The opening boxing sequence alone is worth the price of admission.) Once the initial dose of characterization is administered, the plot just whizzes along, punctuated by regular explosions. Don't expect to have your moral and intellectual horizons broadened; do expect to be entertained.

The Brothers McMullen. Like El Mariachi, here's another mini-budget indy film more notable for its creator's success story than for the movie itself. Writer-director Edward Burns made the picture for about 20 grand, yet he somehow managed to achieve the quality level of a million-plus commercial feature. Too bad the sappy story, which follows the doubt-riddled romantic lives of three Irish-Catholic brothers, hits so many transparent notes; you get the sense the film is trying to be knowing and insightful when much of what it's saying has been recycled from last year's men's-liberation books. What keeps the movie afloat are its fresh lead performances, especially Mike McGlone as the guilt-ridden nice guy and Burns himself as the cynical stud.

BULLETS OVER BROADWAY.In this comedy of concessions, John Cusack plays an aspiring 1920s playwright who must continually compromise his latest work in order to see it produced. Woody Allen's screenplay and direction are smoother than usual, and he's managed to fill the movie with fun performances from several actors who don't normally get the chance to shine--Dianne Weist, Jennifer Tilly and Michael De Luca, to name a few. The laughs are plentiful, and when all is said and done Allen actually manages to throw in some meaningful commentary too. All things considered, he's in great form.

BYE BYE, LOVE. As three divorced fathers, Matthew Modine, Paul Reiser and Randy Quaid stumble their way through this McMovie about custody exchanges and mid-life romantic grief. Quaid's pissed-off character is the only one with any appeal, but that doesn't amount to much, not even during the film's centerpiece: an uninventive blind-date scene with Janeane Garofalo. Serious themes are verbalized to the point of embarrassment, comic sequences are ridiculously constructed, and the movie vanquishes all dignity with its insistent return to McDonald's (which obviously funded the picture).