AFTER Shattered Glass, director Billy Ray maintains his fascination with real-life frauds . . . this time the story of Robert Hanseen (Chris Cooper), an FBI soviet expert who was exposed as a soviet agent and sentenced to life in 2002. Ryan Phillippe plays the FBI rookie Eric O'Neill who helps to nail him by working his way into his wearied affections. Ray's direction is functional, like good television.

The film powers along as an entertaining thriller but it refuses to answer key questions it throws up: Why did Hanseen do it? Did the Russians have something on him . . .

the fact that he was a pervert? And what motivates such a man who also claims to be a hardline Catholic?

Ray's film is delighted to keep reminding us he is a deviant (as if that is satisfactory explanation for his behaviour). It then goes out of its way to tell us answering these questions is not significant. But they are important . . . it makes the difference between good TV and good film. Ryan Phillippe has the kind of babyface you would trust, but after risking so much, he still looks a picture of innocence only with a furrowed brow tacked on.

Laura Linney gives the film some backbone as O'Neill's handler. As always, she is not a woman to be messed with.

1408 (Mikael Hafstrom): John Cusack, Samuel L. Jackson, Mary McCormack, Jasmine Jessica Anthony Running time: 94 minutes . . .

WHEN Samuel L Jackson tells you 1408 is "an evil f**king room", you should pay attention. Not Mike Enslin (John Cusack). He's a cynical hack who churns out smart-ass books about haunted hotels. He's also avoiding the death of his daughter and a wife he left behind in New York.

Just when you thought there were no more Stephen King stories to mine, Mikael Hafstrom unearths this chiller from the vaults. Room 1408, in a grand hotel in New York, is a chamber of psychological horrors. Cusack is hurled through past, present, rain, snow and even out the window. Just when you think the room can do no worse, he receives his dead daughter's dress on the fax machine. Cusack spends a lot of screen time alone but holds it together.

Hafstrom sparks plenty of shocks, and some old-fashioned twists to keep you alert in the last reel. Just don't expect vintage King.

No Reservations (Scott Hicks): Catherine Zeta-Jones, Aaron Eckhart, Abigail Breslin, Bob Balaban Running time: 105 minutes . .

THIS humdrum, faintly enjoyable remake of the German film Mostly Martha stars a deglossed Catherine Zeta-Jones as a New York bistro chef. She's called Kate Armstrong and the reservation of the title refers to her heart . . .strictly no seating for two. A neurotic control-freak in the kitchen, she serves up heartwarming fare to customers, but her own heart needs defrosting.

Then the death of her sister forces her to adopt nine-year-old niece Zoe (Abigail Breslin from Little Miss Sunshine). How will she manage? And what about the irritating new sous chef in the guise of Aaron Eckhart, who meddles with her restaurant food, plays opera in the kitchen and gets on famously with her niece?

With his cheeky-boy grin and enormous mandible, Eckhart doesn't so much act as become a cloud of musk, gassed into the movie to stir Kate where she doesn't want stirring.

Zeta-Jones displays a range between cold and lukewarm. Their inevitable pairing is like watching bread bake. PL

Year of the Dog (Mike White): Molly Shannon, Laura Dern, Regins King.
Running time: 98 minutes . .

MIKEWhite, with a decent CV of screenplays to his name (Chuck & Buck, The Good Girl, Nacho Libre) debuts as a director with this oddball comedy about a lonely, dog-loving secretary, Peggy (played, with unsettling intensity, by Molly Shannon). When her beloved pet pooch dies, Peggy's world goes into a tailspin; she tries to right herself by becoming a vegan, an anti-fur fanatic, and an indiscriminate rescuer of stray dogs.

More than once we suspect that Peggy might be going mad. Her sister-in-law (Laura Dern) certainly thinks so. White keeps us guessing, but he pursues his heroine into a corner from which she cannot plausibly escape. Shannon seizes her lead role with alacrity, but the comedy isn't the heartwarmer it wants to be; it's merely sad.