TALES FROM THE HOOD. Here's a breath of fresh air: a black film that addresses racial issues via a format other than realism. Using a macabre Night Gallery-esque framing device, we're presented with four horror vignettes--each with a bone to pick about racism, gang violence and so on. It's a splendid idea, well-executed by director Rusty Cundieff (Fear Of A Black Hat), and nicely acted by a cast that includes Clarence Williams III and David Allen Grier. Too bad the ideas don't go anywhere beyond cut-and-paste revenge fantasies. The best vignettes include a story about a David Duke-like politician who is stalked by rabid black voodoo dolls, and a Clockwork Orange-style tale in which an irrepressible gangbanger is forced to watch rapid-fire images of blacks shooting blacks intercut with historical photographs of slave lynchings.

TANK GIRL. Lori Petty stars as the title character, an irreverent, punky, loner heroine who is every bit as tough as she is fashion-conscious. She's so defiant that when villain Malcolm McDowell tries to subdue her by putting her in a straitjacket and locking her up in a freezer, she asks, "How am I supposed to play with myself in here?" But with the exception of a scene involving Ice-T as a kangaroo man, Petty's innuendo-filled one-liners are about all the picture has going for it. Otherwise, most of director Rachel Talalay's attempts at cult comic-book whimsy are crushed by the overall sloppiness of the production. Movies are supposed to be carefully constructed, like architecture; this one feels like it was pushed together with a bulldozer.

Tie-Died. This documentary about Grateful Dead fans is recommended only for the converted. It's clearly made by a Grateful Dead fan for other fans. Filmmaker Andrew Behar has recorded not the band itself (there's no Dead music in the movie) but only the "movement" "going down" outside in the parking lot. It's about love, brotherhood, expanded consciousness, etc. Anything dark or critical that could be said about this scene is either left out or glossed over. Still, it's interesting to look at this once-vital subculture, especially since the death of Jerry Garcia probably means it will come to an end. It's also interesting to note the variety of motivations Dead Heads have for going "on tour" with the band. Nevertheless, these insights could have been delivered in a half-hour film instead of a full-length documentary.

Tin Cup. This tissue-weight romantic comedy about love, ambition and golfing is sweet, enjoyable and forgettable. Golf fans will probably like it more than the population-at-large, and golf fans on dates will probably like it most of all. Rene Russo is funny, charismatic and gorgeous as a ditzy psychotherapist; Kevin Costner manages to come off as a suitable love interest for her, despite the fact that his character is a slacker and an alcoholic. (Maybe because he looks more like a movie star than a loser, alcoholic golf pro.) Together they take the high stakes, tension-filled world of pro-golfing by storm!

To Die For. Gus Van Sant, ailing after making a movie with too loose a storyline (Even Cowgirls Get the Blues), tries to make up for it with this small-minded, easy-to-analyze portrait of a media whore. Taking cues from Network, The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader-Murdering Mom and that line in Madonna: Truth or Dare when Warren Beatty criticizes Madonna's obsessive exhibitionism, Buck Henry's bleak script may be an accurate vision of a growing societal sickness; but it's not a very new or interesting one. And Van Sant's decision to turn Nicole Kidman's ice queen into a ditzy caricature lessens the picture's impact. What effectiveness the film does have comes from the solidly sympathetic performances of Illeana Douglas, as the sister of the murdered Matt Dillon, and especially teen-actor Joaquin Phoenix.

TO WONG FOO, THANKS FOR EVERYTHING, JULIE NEWMAR Riding on the coattails (or flowing gown, as it were) of The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, this Americanized transvestite road movie proves that a little drag queen goes a long way and a lot of drag queen is just a drag. Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes and John Leguizamo deliver a few sassy one-liners, but the script otherwise doesn't give them much to do besides talk their way through a handful of insipid moral lessons in an all-too-phony small town, and their lack of character-acting ability overrides their camp appeal. Stockard Channing co-stars as a moody, contemplative housewife; somebody forgot to tell her she was in a comedy.

TOM & HUCK. Any living girl under fourteen can tell you Jonathan Taylor Thomas (JTT to his fans) is the hot boy in the universe, and he's just dreamy as Tom Sawyer in this lively interpretation of Twain's classic. He and Huck Finn (Brad Renfro) run around the 19th century with blown-dried hair, perfect teeth and immunization scars, eating pies off of windowsills and chasing treasure maps. There are no peaks to this movie but no valleys either: It's a nice, solid kid's adventure story. Best of all, Renfro and JTT are totally cute and non-threatening, though Renfro is a couple of inches taller and can't completely suppress all signs of puberty. The story stresses the meaning and importance of friendship between the boys, and sometimes, I swear to God, it looks like they're going to kiss. They don't though.

TOMMY BOY. Just what we needed: another road-trip buddy movie in which the two main characters, finding themselves in the lane of on-coming traffic, turn to each other and scream. And yet, it would be unfair not to mention that for all the film's idiocy, Saturday Night Live underdogs Chris Farley and David Spade almost make this hackneyed odd-couple story seem fresh (especially Farley, with his good-natured overweight exuberance). The movie has oddly effective subtextual casting, too: cinematic outcasts Bo Derek and Rob Lowe play the baddies, and SNL veteran Dan Aykroyd lends support as a big-mouthed bigwig.

Toy Story. In real life, you probably wouldn't enjoy listening to Tom Hanks and Tim Allen argue over who's more exciting to play with. But in Toy Story, the familiar voices take us on a giddy ride into the Brave New World of computer animation. This may be the best Disney film in years, with a feel-good story that takes its cue from The Velveteen Rabbit rather than some glib socio-ecological scenario. The result is a full-length animated feature that's refreshingly original. This, no doubt, is in large part due to Joel Cohen's involvement with the story. Best of all, none of the characters sing.

Trainspotting. Based on the novel by Irvine Welsh, this hip, streetwise movie meanders through the underworld of Scottish drug culture with a cold, steely eye. A group of disillusioned blokes sneer, shoot-up and slug their way through the stupefying sludge of middle-class life, hoping drugs or crime or a combination of the two will help them transcend the boredom and humility of being young, without ambition and Scottish. The funny, fast-talking characters don't have enough direction in their lives to allow this movie to have a plot, but who needs a plot when you have such a great script?

THE TRUTH ABOUT CATS AND DOGS. Janeane Garofalo stars as Dr. Abby Barnes, a veterinarian with the title call-in radio show for distraught pet owners. The plot thickens when, amidst the daily grind of callers with finicky basset hounds and rashes from three-hour cat tongue baths, a mysterious photographer with a European accent has a crisis with a Great Dane on roller skates. When the grateful caller, Brian (Ben Chaplin), talks Abby into meeting him in person, she inexplicably describes herself as her supermodel neighbor, played to dippy perfection by Uma Thurman. It's an insipid premise--smart-but-unattractive woman chooses beautiful-but-dumb proxy to win the man of her dreams. But from start to finish the movie is so damn cute--cute animals, cute actors, cute lines--you might not even notice. Not recommended for those afraid to laugh out loud in public.

12 Monkeys. A dark, elliptical thriller about a prisoner sent back in time from a bleak and authoritarian future. Bruce Willis turns in a convincing performance as the time-traveler Cole, a man seduced by the past he's supposed to be studying. Of course, when he arrives in the 1990s and mentions he's from the future, he's thrown in the loony bin and left to rot. There he meets fellow crazy man Brad Pitt and fetching psychiatrist Madeline Stowe. Director Terry Gilliam presents an unsettling, quasi SM view of a future world dripping with rubber and chains, and the present doesn't look much better. The result is a gripping, pessimistic story of both the arrogance and fragility of human society.

Twister. After a tornado kills Helen Hunt's father, she becomes obsessed with revenge in this incredibly stupid Michael Crichton thriller. Every plot point is explained at least three times in dialogue before being realized in action, and the actors, especially Bill Paxton, appear to be truly embarrassed by the script. In an interesting twist, while the good guys in this movie are weathermen, the bad guys are also weathermen--Bad Weathermen, in black vans. Nevertheless, there is something to be said for watching cows, trucks and cars sailing through barns.

TWO BITS. The word is out--Al Pacino has been cloned! How else do you explain his appearance in a new movie every other month? The latest, Two Bits, has Pacino (or his clone) playing an old Italian grandfather dispensing packets of wisdom to his 12-year-old grandson in depression-era Chicago. This movie, with its unabashed nostalgia for an imagined past, is as drenched in amber haze as a Country Time lemonade-style drink mix commercial. In the midst of this pandering, sentimental dross, Pacino (or his clone) relentlessly hams up the dying man shtick. In fact, the entire movie is essentially an hour-and-a-half death scene for Pacino. Watch him (or his clone) droop, sputter and fade! Watch his grandson learn stuff! See how aesthetically pleasing the depression really was!

Two if by Sea. Possibly the most painful romantic comedy of the year, for those who don't find falling down, outlandish wardrobe changes, clichéd lines and faux east-coast accents the least bit charming or amusing. We hereby dub Sandra Bullock the Goldie Hawn of the '90s: just a smidgen smarter, tougher and more sophisticated than her predecessor, but apparently destined to make "Sandra Bullock movies." This time around, she tries to play the honest-but-scheming girlfriend of a sometimes-repentant petty thief (Denis Leary). The plot involves a band of bumbling thieves, a black FBI agent named O'Malley (yes, this is supposed to be funny), a grand art heist and a bunch of people pretending to be something they're not (stay tuned for the Big Lesson at the end). Along the way, we get to see Bullock looking cute during a high speed chase, Bullock looking cute in baggy clothes, Bullock looking cute while arguing with her boyfriend, Bullock looking cute while being swept off her feet by someone tall, dark and handsome, and...well, you get the picture. Sandra, baby...wake up and spit out the bubble-gum before it's too late!