PANTHER. Nobody can say that Mario Van Peebles lacks energy. His docudrama about the rise and fall of the Black Panther Party is aswirl with camera movement, Oliver Stone-esque editing, blustering rhetoric and non-stop gunplay. What Mario Van Peebles does lack is restraint, and that's a big problem. Not only does it become increasingly exhausting to try to keep up with who's who among the complicated network of key Panthers, but the facts are stretched to such extremes you leave the theater wondering if anything presented was true. The film ends by explaining that the FBI introduced cheap drugs into black neighborhoods in order to discourage black activism, and that's the reason drugs have so corroded our society.

THE PEREZ FAMILY. This rich, colorful film from director Mira Nair (Mississippi Masala) follows the attempt of a Cuban refugee (Alfred Molina) to reunite with his American wife (Anjelica Huston) after 20 years. Marisa Tomei heats up the screen as a saucy prostitute who accompanies him, and Chazz Palminteri provides low-key charm as a policeman with an eye for Huston. Though laced with themes about multiculturalism and the American Dream, the movie is primarily a tale of old love versus new. Nair's attention to detail and deft creative touches manage to give the picture both emotional weight and a buoyant, fanciful spirit.

The Phantom. A flick that truly earns the adjective unwatchable, The Phantom is simply the corniest, most predictable, flat piece of filmmaking imaginable. Okay, yes, so a guy runs around the jungle in a purple spandex suit, but don't let that fool you: There's nothing exciting here. Every single line of dialogue has been recycled from other movies (example: "She's a feisty one, isn't she!") and all the sets look like they've been borrowed from the back lot of Xena: Warrior Princess. There's some plot here somewhere, something about forbidden skulls or something; but believe us, it's nothing you haven't seen before. Don't waste an irretrievable portion of life on this travesty.

Phenomenon. It's hard to spell and even harder to watch: Phenomenon, a corny, cloying, life-is-a-gift type of flick that tries its darnedest to recreate the optimism of Frank Capra movies like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and It's a Wonderful Life. The marvel of Capra's movies though, is that they're actually incredibly bleak stories with a burst of light at the end, while Phenomenon keeps to a steady level of saccharine drivel throughout. John Travolta stars as a dimwitted mechanic who sees a light in the sky and then becomes breathtakingly intelligent, except that he can't figure out how to do practical things, like consult with the faculty at Stanford when the guys at Berkeley refuse to see him. Sentimental music and hazy, gold-filtered shots sabotage any chance at dignity this project may have ever had. This is one of those movies that might have been kind of good if it wasn't so idiotic.

POCAHONTAS. In their depiction of the Native American woman who helped forge peace between indians and colonists, Disney delivers everything you'd expect: a tasteful message of anti-bigotry and environmental harmony, cute animals, competent songwriting and a heroine who looks like an animated supermodel. A few of the key sequences are charming, but most of the film is so calculated as to lack any viewing joy whatsoever.

Powder. Writer/director Victor Salva may be a social pariah, but his latest filmic effort certainly proves that talent isn't selective. Mind you, Powder is no groundbreaking cinematic effort; but it is entertaining sci-fi, with the optimistic twist that the highly evolved and intelligent "alien" life form is actually from our own planet. Meanwhile, we less-evolved beings find it impossible not to wonder about the connection between the writer and his creation, considering he had plenty of time to formulate his next screenplay while serving a sentence for child molestation. Promotional copy reads: "Alienated from society, he tries to fit in but only finds intolerance. Despite the cruelty inflicted upon him, Powder's extraordinary compassion helps him to persist, and people begin to understand that their harsh judgment is more a reflection of their own ignorance and fear." You may not want to spend any length of time in Salva's head, but spending a couple of hours with Powder may be slightly more uplifting. While none of the characters seem particularly challenging, Sean Patrick Flanery, Mary Steenburgen and Jeff Goldblum deliver engaging performances. In fact, Powder is so successful at fitting a compelling subject into a tepid screenplay it will undoubtedly earn the dubious achievement of an academy award nomination.

Primal Fear. Richard Gere is a lawyer in this courtroom drama about an arrogant attorney who questions his own methods after he begins representing a sweet, stuttering altar boy accused of murdering a bishop who has sexually molested him. Gere is just dandy in the role, alternately repugnant and charismatic, and best of all, the years have not robbed him of his hunkiness. The plot twists with predictable regularity but manages not to grievously insult the intelligence of the audience. All the material here has been covered by TV cops and lawyers shows, probably a little better, but at least no one in the theater is going to stop everything to try to sell you Pepsid AC.

The Prophecy. Working from a kooky Biblical fantasy reminiscent of The Omen or The Rapture, the story imagines the angel Gabriel as an avaricious sort who wants to wage war in heaven and take over that big throne in the sky. Gabriel is, of course, played by Christopher Walken, who chews up the scenery like a dog in a beef jerky factory. Down on earth, Gabriel has some business to attend to, but not if detective Elias Koteas, schoolteacher Virginia Madsen and Eric Stoltz (as the angel Simon) can help it. The movie hints at a buildup that never comes, and fails to entertain in all the big, important ways. However, author-director Gergory Widen does very well with all the wry, evil bits; perhaps somebody should hire him to do script polishes on the next Stallone, Van Damme and Steven Seagal features.

PULP FICTION. Quentin Tarantino's second outing as director/screenwriter shifts from the tight plotting and characterization of Reservoir Dogs to a sprawling, meandering format that (barely) weaves three urban crime stories together. Tarantino, a talented writer, goes on several banal dialogue binges and then adds his customary unsettling explosions of violence. On a few occasions, the mixture is gritty fun; on more than a few others, it becomes tedious. With interesting performances by John Travolta, Bruce Willis, Rosanna Arquette, Eric Stoltz, Samuel L. Jackson and Maria de Medeiros.

A PURE FORMALITY. Two butt-nosed actors for the price of one! Gerard Depardieu plays a murder suspect with a severe memory problem and Roman Polanski plays the inspector who chips away at Depardieu's story over the course of a night. Directed by Giuseppe Tornatore (Cinema Paradiso), this dark, sumptuously detailed film evolves from noirish cat-and-mouse game to metaphysical character study with more than enough skill to keep the film's dreamlike elusiveness endurable. Watching Depardieu and Polanski click is a treat; their performances hold the film together long after the mystery's grip has loosened.