Connie Ogle

The film's opening credits are terrific, and the first 10 or 15 minutes -- in which Ford and Arthur speedily load up on beer at the local pub -- are absorbing and funny. It's such a promising start that it's doubly deflating to realize that once they land on Zaphod's spaceship, the humor vaporizes.

Late Marriage's stiffness is unlikely to demonstrate the emotional clout to sweep U.S. viewers off their feet.

Next begins to seriously embarrass itself and its stars -- except for Biel, surprisingly, who manages to escape with a shred of dignity, possibly because her role requires little beyond looking gorgeous -- once it rolls to its climax.

Shameless in its desperate grab at the heartstrings.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about Stardust is that its most winning element is neither its delightful story nor its special effects but its sly sense of humor.

Smart People tastes as fake as a Wal-Mart corn dog. Besides, it doesn't even know the work is Faerie Queen, not ''Fairie.'' Somewhere, Edmund Spenser is turning in his grave. You don't even have to be smart to know that.

Eagle vs. Shark feels like a low-budget, foreign cousin to Napolean Dynamite, less polished and sly. But it's definitely in the same family, lulling us into friendly acceptance with its persuasively silly rhythm and deceptively big heart.

The biggest offense in the somewhat unimaginative but serviceable legal thriller High Crimes is that the venerable Morgan Freeman simply does not get enough screen time, and when he's up there, he doesn't have enough to do.

The interpretation is so painstaking and moving that almost every moment delivers a shuddering jolt to the head and the heart.

I Want to Believe provides a welcome reminder of what made Carter's franchise a pop-culture gem.

Basically a one-joke movie, and they take their sweet time -- too much of it, actually -- getting to the good stuff. But what excellent laughs they provide in the end.

The best thing you can say about Scooby-Doo is that Matthew Lillard makes a really, really good Shaggy.

Move over donkey, it's Banderas' time to shine.

A witty and engaging bit of fluff about sex, scandal, idleness, gossip, blackmail, guilty secrets and, most surprisingly, redemption.

The film paints a fairly realistic portrait of four people bound by blood but -- like all of us -- all too capable of underestimating each other.

Its silly Snow White allusions aside, Sydney White is a simple but amiable modern fairy tale.

Hits the parallels between love and hip-hop a little too hard when the message is relatively easy to grasp: Don't sell out: not your art, not your heart. If only music business executives were listening.

Filmmaker Christopher Cain has turned a national tragedy into a teen romance, and not in a grand, entertaining, "Titanic" way.

It's a cannibalization of "Sleeping With the Enemy," a not-so-good Julia Roberts film, with a ridiculous female-empowerment subtext and a relentlessly stupid script that goes nowhere you can't predict before the opening credits roll.

Taylor is effective as a woman struggling to take control of her life, but Ambrose's work feels shallow in comparison.

Sobieski manages to make Jennifer's inevitable transformation more than a little bittersweet. Apparently even clichés click sometimes.

There's no real artistry to this: It's as though Parker has just seen "Seven" and suffered some sort of David Fincher flashback.

Compare Sylvia to another, more powerful film about a tragic literary death: "Iris," about Iris Murdoch's descent into Alzheimer's, leaves you with an aching heart and reddened eyes. After the equally sorrowful Sylvia, we are entertained but unmoved.

Co-written by Tony Gilroy, who penned the tricky "Michael Clayton" and the even trickier "Duplicity," State of Play displays its savvy without being quite so showy.

You don't need a Ouija board to suss out where all this is heading, but Is Anybody There? counteracts its deficiencies -- predictability, sentimentality -- with a healthy dose of dark humor.

In Keeping Mum, the writers poke gentle, broad fun at the absurdities of English country life and manners while creating a cozy malevolence that's all the more engaging because it lies so far from reality. We know we mustn't murder our loathsome neighbors. But how much fun it is to imagine that we might.

Wields some power, but it's hard to shake the feeling you've seen it all before.

More of a warm breeze than a great gust, but its simple, smart pleasures carry the force of a hurricane.

Anyone who understands the subtle shadings of friendship will appreciate Our Song's realistic slice of teen life.

In a way, Phillip Noyce's film is the anti-"Inception"; it's never dazzling, but it's never confusing, either. It's a Bourne movie minus the exotic locations and sickening handheld camera, and its head spy has way better lips than Matt Damon.

Everything in Drumline engages, from its likable cast to its breathtaking finale. Only the most jaded viewers won't be cheering by the end.

The film improves once the assassination attempt goes awry, but the audience is never truly invested in the actions of these heroic men.

On the Line's cutesy premise is no more ridiculous than that of most romantic comedies.

In the end, a sports movie is only as good as the adrenalin rush it provides in the climactic match, and there, finally, Glory Road hits on all cylinders with nonstop action and a powerful emotional impact.

Watching Wilson and Hudson toil thanklessly through this mess is more laborious than writing the Great American Novel. And a lot less lucrative.

For connoisseurs of stupidity, Hot Rod is that perfect delicacy: A silly movie about ridiculous characters that's also actually funny. Hilarious, even.

The film's failure to adhere to one of the most important rules of humor -- never give extensive screen time to someone who is not the slightest bit funny -- prevents it from being a completely enjoyable, if silly, romp.

Don't expect perfection, and you'll emerge from this goofy movie all in one piece, with reasonably entertained kids and a milder headache.

Eventually loses its cheerful goofiness and its momentum, climaxing with a lengthy and embarrassing showdown scene at a big party. But it gets worse.

The mere idea of making a musical version of Pride and Prejudice set in modern-day India is delicious, though, and Chadha's lively imagination and good intentions almost make the concept work.

Everyone, including the candidates, will recognize the importance of civic duty, leaving Swing Vote to end with swelling music and uplifting speechifying but on a completely unsatisfactory note.

You might call My Sister's Keeper manipulative, and you would not be inaccurate.

The fact that you won't remember any of these names for more than a minute should indicate exactly how much depth each character displays.

What Shark Tale lacks in originality it makes up for with sassy humor, bright, effective animation and terrific vocal work.

In addition to providing a textbook example of suspense, Estes also makes us want to know what happens to these kids after the screen goes dark.

The sort of movie you enjoy much more while you're watching it in the theater than when you're deconstructing it on the way home.

Neurotic New Yorkers, messed up relationships, inept analysts, infidelity -- Ira & Abby has them all, and it's anything but refreshing to trudge through this well-worn territory again.

A cliché-ridden, condescending and ham-handed film that clumsily fails to bring to life what should be an interesting story. You might say none of its punches even comes close to connecting.

The cast, which includes Kim Cattrall (Sex and the City) as a coach who pushes her daughter too hard, is likable and energetic, and the film's messages are entirely reasonable.

Wins you over with this bright sense of humor and its gentle, welcome message of tolerance and acceptance.

The film, with its uniformly terrific cast, stern Gothic overtones and steady but measured pacing, is a crisp, old-fashioned delight, eschewing cheap tricks for repeated tiny pricks of unease that work up to a continuous gnawing dread.

It resonates with gleaming ferocity as it unspools a story of regret, longing and resolution in two generations of women.

The film is well-scrubbed of anything resembling sexuality, more a nonthreatening fairy tale than the romantic drama it aims to be. Its appeal flies straight to the hearts of 13-year-old girls.

The music is of course majestic, blending well with a loving cinematography.

The story is far from finished; the film can't help but feel like a bridge to its end. But the power of that partnership forged in "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" remains strong.

Not so much a thriller as an exploration of one man's crumbling moral compass.

A slow-moving but heartfelt film.

The charms of Lucía, Lucía rely heavily on the charismatic Roth, who is funny and warm and a lot of fun to watch as she embraces her new life.

Casanova doesn't seduce so much as lull the audience into a stupor with tedious blather about the battle of the sexes, intermittent but pointless swordplay and clumsy slapstick.

Not exactly a tour de force, but the film succeeds on the wattage of its stars.

Manages to sidestep the potential overload of cheap sentimentality -- an intimate dance between an elderly couple registers with heartbreaking sweetness -- and evokes a lingering sense of loss.

Hilarious and imaginatively crude with a surprising sweet and subtle aftertaste that prevents it from flopping, limp and brainless, into the sugary abyss of romantic predictability.

A measured, magnificently understated and intense performance by Academy Award nominee Terrence Howard (Hustle & Flow, Crash) as Ellis gives Pride its fire and heart.

But if My Date With Drew is what passes for filmmaking these days, the movie industry is in more trouble than we thought.

The misery is there, all right, in every woozy, spaced-out shot of Hoffman clutching his gas-soaked rag. But in the end, do we really care?

Better than you might expect despite its awkward, slow beginning, drawing you in gradually and paying off in surprisingly effective and bittersweet ways.

There's an audience for old-fashioned romance, and Dear John will please most of it.

Crudup is about as effective as anyone could be in the dreary World Traveler, but he can't keep this shallow, pretentious film from wallowing in banality and staggering self-indulgence.

It turns out to be a satisfying, if occasionally wandering, adventure.

Unfortunately Miracle is long on cliché and short on originality.

The Last Song, yet another maudlin remake of a Nicholas Sparks bestseller.

The Lake House overflows with heart-stopping thrills, if by ''thrills'' you mean ''watching attractive people wait around for letters to be delivered by mystical forces.'' Which, come to think of it, makes this romantic melodrama sound a lot more interesting than it is.

Stranger Than Fiction may not be the typical crowd-pleaser, but it's a sweet, funny, intelligent film that showcases just how much Ferrell can do, even when he's doing less.