KANSAS CITY. In the last 25 years, Robert Altman has made some of the best movies in America and some of the worst. Kansas City finds Altman at the dip in the graph. This story of a politician's wife who is kidnapped by a manicurist during the height of the jazz era lacks all nuance, cohesion and sense. The plot is forced and arbitrary, and the characters never spring to life. Altman seems to be trying to make two movies at once: An adventure crime flick and a moving character study, but ends up not really doing either. Jennifer Jason Leigh's career is much like Altman's: When she's in form, she's terrific, but when she's not, she's horrible. As Blondie the manicurist, Leigh twists and ticks through a self-conscious, mannered performance that's painful to watch. The only good parts of this movie are when the jazz musicians come in, but they can't save it.

A KID IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT. This low-quality fare from Disney features a lame script, bland direction and contemptible acting. If you take your kids to see it, they might lead a violent revolt against you using whiffle bats and plastic swords, so be careful. Even Runaway Brain, the 5-minute Mickey Mouse cartoon that precedes the movie, is second-rate all the way. With the hundreds of Arthurian, time-travel and old Disney videos that infinitely outclass this tripe, consider setting up your own round table at home instead. Christen it with a VCR and let Merlin's magical remote control be your guide.

Kids. Claims that Larry Clark's grim, documentary-style film is an important social wake-up call have some merit, as Kids comes closer than any other recent film to describing the empty lives of urban teens. But it's equally tempting to dismiss the film as exploitation: a series of sensational images with few organizing principles to elevate the material above mere voyeurism. Devoid of well-articulated themes or a strong narrative, the picture often comes across as less a moral statement than an aesthetic one. It's a series of staged photo-ops where the director seems every bit as fascinated by his subject as repelled--the vapid world he inhabits is a landscape fit to be photographed for its decadent beauty.

Kingpin. Funny, energetic and totally offensive, Kingpin is a surprisingly engaging film about bowling, of all things. But enough of reviewers, what do the fans say? "It exceeded all my expectations for a bowling movie," reports one viewer after a recent screening. "One of the top-five bowling movies of all time," chimes in another. "A motion picture extravaganza like no other. Two hooks up!" exclaims yet a third enthusiastic citizen. But not all reports are rosy. "It has too much character development and not enough cheap laughs," one disappointed fellow responds. And a confused audience member asks: "Which Jane Austen novel is this based on?"

KISS OF DEATH. Loosely translated, the title might as well read "sex and violence," which is about all this David Caruso vehicle has to offer. It certainly doesn't have anything worthwhile going on in its story, a feeble blend of the usual cops-and-mobsters elements. And Caruso's performance, with his television-trained tics and eyebrow raising, is sadly limited. The whole enterprise looks and feels an awful lot like a TV program, and you'll probably walk out miffed you paid cash for what is essentially an episode of NYPD Blue with a more lenient censor. Nicolas Cage and Samuel Jackson also star, in roles so unimaginative that each is given a colorful physical ailment (asthma and a broken tear duct, respectively) to make them more interesting. It doesn't work.