Dennis Harvey

This mix of tepid hospital intrigue plus underdeveloped cultural/relationship conflicts feels like a routine TV episode stretched to feature length, with little dramatic urgency or cinematic style to render its good intentions compelling.

Delightful documentary A Cantor's Tale casts a fond eye back at the "golden age" of chazzanut (Jewish liturgical music) and its star performers in the Brooklyn of yesteryear.

Broomfield's shaggy p.o.v. always troubles -- blurring the lines between tabloid and serious reportage, morbid curiosity and hard facts, objectivity and amusing, quasi-amateur stuntsmanship.

Though sure to be distasteful for some viewers even to ponder, this giddy exercise transcends mere bad-taste humor to become one of the great jet-black comedies about suburbia.

Picture aims for nonstop thrill ride, but for all its brainless brawn, it has plenty of stops and few real thrills.

Afforded a comparatively rare chance to stretch out in a complex lead role, Buscemi is excellent.

This slacker prince (Hawke) comprises a sinkhole at the center of adaptor-helmer Michael Almereyda's otherwise compelling contempo update.

An exercise in bad taste that takes itself just seriously enough to be offensive.

Inspiration is running thin in comedian Margaret Cho's fourth concert film, a routine stand-up set that compares poorly to her oft-hilarious first two.

Offers radical sexual politics in a jester's surprise package of impudent humor and Situationist-style found-footage monkeyshines.

Striking and self-indulgent in equal measure, Cam Archer's first feature, Wild Tigers I Have Known, is an impressive declaration of talent that nonetheless gets a little drunk and disorderly at the trough of High Art. Arresting visual and sonic textures frequently overwhelm sketchy narrative, leaving surface provocation too seldom ballasted by deeper psychological truths or emotional impact.

A surprisingly cogent, entertaining, even rabble-rousing indictment of perhaps the most influential institutional model for our era.

This entertaining docu by "When We Were Kings'?" Leon Gast is more eccentric personality portrait than the in-depth scrutiny of celebrity-culture madness afforded by fellow Sundance preem "Teenage Paparazzo."

This anything-goes exercise isn't dull -- one just wishes the outrageousness were more consistently funny.

While plot mechanics aren't wildly imaginative, pic nonetheless delivers requisite jolts in an above-average package.

Lazin has without question skillfully assembled an entertaining, strongly narrative nonfiction package.

This hectic pileup of supernatural nonsense is a treasure trove of seemingly unintentional hilarity. Although lacking helmer's usual aesthetic panache, this "Mother" is a cheesy, breathless future camp classic.

It's not exactly good, but it's not bad, and far from boring.

Amusing but unevenly inspired tale of a deluded high school drama teacher's attempt to stage a career-saving extravaganza has some laughs, to be sure.

Brisk and ingratiating, with some brief animated sequences adding color, this is an easy watch despite the frequently incendiary nature of its subject’s barbed images.

Good escapist entertainment, and the effect is ingratiating.

An adept if necessarily limited translation of uncinematic material, The Guys retains the potency of its stage original as a poignant, ingeniously simple tribute to firefighters lost in the World Trade Center disaster.

Inexplicably mixing lamer-than-lame "bad taste" comedy with yea worse traumatized-assault-victim histrionics, pic's only entertainment value lies in viewer weighing whether pic is primarily a.) offensive b.) amateurish c.) pathetic or d.) a cry for help.

Eytan Fox delivers another involving tale in The Bubble.

A serviceable youth pic that's marginally less dumb than November's urban quasi-musical "Honey."

Sometimes feels like an extended pilot for a smarty-pants broadcast series in the tradition of Michael Moore's "Awful Truth" and "TV Nation" skeins.

Pic can be taken as either inspirational or cautionary, but either way rivets attention on the efforts of both medical science and Conn herself to keep the little guy alive.

Ultimately less dependent on suspense or even scares than on squirm-inducing grossouts, this tale of Yank hardbodies vs. carnivorous creepers should flower briefly in hardtops, then spread like an invasive weed in ancillary.

Emerges as an oddly sour, unappealing road-trip scenario.

Even by recent standards for mainstream comedy packaging, "Tub" looks dull and ugly.

Jared Leto gained some 70 pounds. Seemingly following his lead, the pic itself is heavy, lethargic, and exasperating.

Affectionate spoof merits appreciation as a not-so-dumb salute to another era's ultra-dumb genre conventions.

A real-life inspirational comedy that should beguile viewers regardless of their operatic taste (or distaste).

Given his writer-producer credits on good-to-great recent sitcoms ("My Name Is Earl," "Arrested Development," "Grounded for Life"), one might expect more situational wit, or at least some snappy patter, from Brian Copeland's first bigscreen script. Instead, the humor rests primarily on slapstick wipeouts that have no physical consequence.

A riveting account of how a soldier's death in Afghanistan was spun into a web of public lies.

In style and content, Sarah Jessica Parker starrer is the kind of earnest, talky, modestly scaled social-issue pic that seems predestined for the smallscreen.

Results may not be Nobel Prize material, but they're zesty and cogent.

While his static backgrounds and stuttering character movement aren't likely to win over traditional animation fans, Hair High reps the high end of this "Sick 'n' Twisted"-type toonery.

If outrageous concepts were all, this latest fillip in the oft-eccentric history of Japanese "pink" (softcore sexploitation) cinema would be genius. But the crazy ideas in Takao Nakano's script just fitfully amuse under Mitsuru Meike's draggy direction.

Casual, engaging documentary doesn't attempt a Hinduism 101 lesson, instead going for an impressionistic mix of on-the-fly spectacle and human interest.

Lee crafts actions and situations that are credible without being particularly engrossing -- recognition doesn't necessarily translate into absorbsion.

Takes a beautifully lensed look at the work of Scottish "landscape sculptor" Andy Goldsworthy, whose unique creations -- composed of icicles, leaves, sticks, rocks, etc. -- are often as not simply swept away by the next tide or wind gust.

Climactic triple-cross is a satisfying payoff, though scenarist-helmer Nolan doesn’t really sock across any possible point of emphasis – black humor is soft-pedaled, suspense just middling, and the character writing keeps classic fall guy Bill a bit too blank-slate to incur much sympathy.

Script just doesn’t have it in terms of fresh narrative developments or individual gags.

Benefiting from the very different but very appealing comedy styles of Woody Harrelson and Jesse Eisenberg even when the script's wit runs thin, this should be catnip to jaded genre fans.

The diversity of visual tactics, characters, settings and incidents keep this shaggy-dog tale consistently diverting.

Somewhat forced happy ending aside, the pic holds together well.

This shameless knockoff marches lock-stepped through moves that were already looking as tired as the Macarena.

A charmer whose lack of profane language or images renders it unexpectedly viable for general broadcast.

A simple misfire rather than a world-class fiasco. This misguided attempt to remake Lina Wertmuller's corrosive 1974 satire as a wistful romance is only unintentionally funny in the last reel.

Much humor and suspense is wrung from incidents that would be minuscule from anything but a child’s p.o.v., many repeated until they become ingenious running gags.

Harold's thriller does have an attention-getting plot hook, but piles on too many narrative gimmicks to maintain suspense or credibility.

The full warmth and idiosyncrasy of Chabon's original is missed in an adaptation that feels more impersonally observed. But Lawson's pic, (with the director making a left turn from prior feature "Dodgeball," which he says was a money gig undertaken to hasten this dream project) is entertaining and involving enough on its own terms.

This upmarket slasher is a well-produced but slow-moving thriller that never quite roars to life.

Acreditable mix of character study and thriller elements, Tim Hunter's The Maker skirts but manages to elude several current genre traps - particularly those cliches surrounding both angstful-teen dramas and hip neo-noirs.

Paris Hilton has already ushered a remarkable three features into the Internet Movie Database's "Bottom 100." The Hottie and the Nottie will make it an even four.

A respectably crafted, earnest ensemble drama.

Pleasant enough overall, if also somewhat gratingly old-fashioned.

The definitive screen chronicle to date of homosexual persecution under the Third Reich.

Suffers in ways typical to such adaptations -- what was fresh and flavorful in anecdotal description becomes more familiar and sitcom broad in literal depiction.

An affectionate but aptly complex view of one of our epoch's great philosophers.

It's equal parts wacky, sappy and sniggery.

Comedic and sentimental beats are as predictable as the storytelling is sloppy.

Pleasant if slightly pokey documentary.

Leaves nothing to the imagination: Michael Myers is always right there in plain sight, committing mayhem sans suspenseful buildup or mystique.

Artfully observed, it's content to let Linda be the sole, compelling focal point.

At times plays as if it were aimed at children, but more often simply seems to be aiming blind at whatever genre cliche the five credited writers fix upon in any given scene.

A modest charmer.

Basically "Diner" in wading boots, it feels very familiar in conceit and unadventurous in execution, but offers the undeniable pleasures of a well-observed, well-played modest seriocomedy.

The terrific DIG! offers a unique chance to watch two classic rock band scenarios unfold simultaneously.

Bringing absolutely no fresh angles to a time-tested formula that's seemed particularly overworked of late.

A pic that provides one hour's decent, eye-filling ride, then crashes and burns amid some of the worst writing since ... well, since scenarist/co-producer Akiva Goldsman's last effort, "Batman & Robin."

A classic case of "Better if you didn't read the book" cinema, Loverboy emerges an OK character study of an abnormally possessive mother.

Cheerfully embracing his status as cult B-movie genre megastar even as he sends it up, Bruce Campbell's sophomore directorial excursion, My Name is Bruce, is a big in-joke of definite if limited appeal.

At first seems like a pleasantly pat piece of verite advocacy for convention-breaking unions. But it gets really interesting once said relationship unexpectedly dissolves in ugly fashion, offering real-life voyeuristic appeal a la "Capturing the Friedmans."

Doesn’t always convince, particularly in the last lap. But it’s an engrossing, unusual, imaginatively executed bit of psychological gamesmanship nonetheless.

Justin Lo is -- in descending order of competence -- producer, director, editor, writer and star of debut feature The Conrad Boys. He should've hired a better actor for the lead, but then this low-budget indie would lack its vanity project raison d'etre.

Sensitive directorial bow by editor Wiebke von Carolsfeld and solid performances lend conviction if not quite distinction to the drama Marion Bridge.

A luxuriously old-fashioned star vehicle custom-fit to its topliner's strengths, which come across to sensational effect.

Pic's complete lack of cinematic verve, along with bland tech work, do much to drain the juice out of what should have been a fierce, fun battle of the sexes.

10 Things doesn't take much time before ditching its pitch idea in favor of a mishmash of newer formulas, never quite settling on a cogent game plan or directorial tone.

Less an historical flashback than a present-tense valentine.

Surprisingly, the large format and three-dimensional technology do little to heighten the excitement of the races. In the end, docu is less a film with real behind-the-scenes insight and more a serviceable, if routine, promo package for the (very) bigscreen.

A mixed bag of often mismatched ideas.

Pics greatest achievement is its sharply poignant dialogue which, despite the horrible consequences of the contest it describes, is also darkly amusing.

Combined with hilarious physical business and perfectly overearnest delivery of pseudocool lines like, "Let your fingers do the rocking!," he (Black) pretty much single-handedly keeps the formulaic progress funny.

First-rate talent and a uniquely dyspeptic mood separate this effort from more routine, populist stabs at tasteless yukkage.

Disappointing in every aspect.

Offers plenty of splat with its slapstick. But this strenuous zombie yukfest is no more sophisticated than its nail-on-head title -- making it a joke no smarter than the movies it riffs on.

Celestine Prophecy demands all skepticism be left in the lobby. That's a leap few may be willing to take -- few beyond those millions who bought the book, that is.

Yet the overall look, though derivative ("The Matrix," "Blade Runner," "Waterworld," etc.), rates as Battlefield's one non-guilty pleasure.

A hard-hitting, well-organized documentary grounded in the stories of five Hungarian Jews who lived through the Holocaust.

Engrossing pic is impressively shot, edited and scored.

Bigger, Longer & Uncut will make it harder still to dismiss, or kill, this cultural mini-phenom — not least because the feature is a more clever diversion than anyone had any right to expect.

Doing for the cheesier Ross Hunter-style bigscreen soaps of the early/mid-'60s what "Far From Heaven" did for the plush Douglas Sirk melodramas of a decade earlier -- albeit with tongue planted much further in cheek -- writer/star Charles Busch's Die Mommie Die! is an enjoyable genre homage-cum-parody.

Potent docudocu by Katy Chevigny and Kirsten Johnson makes a strong case against capital punishment by pointing up the fallibility of the justice system, while offering an inspiring portrait of one politico who actually seems guided foremost by conscience.

Wins no points for delicacy. Still, it does score some laughs.

A potent, engrossing look at several young refugees from Sudan's disastrous, endless civil war who've been relocated to the U.S.

A walk on the "dark side" that moves far more slowly than limited character insight requires.

Pic's air of connoisseurist homage overwhelms a haphazard screenplay and characters who are hard to warm up to.

On its own terms, it's a handsome albeit unexceptional juvenile adventure shot on some magnificent Chinese locations.

The first feature from new gay-focused production company Mythgarden, is a welcome exception in that it effectively dramatizes the issues without caricaturing or pillorizing either party.

Ably filmed by veteran stage producer-director Rowan Joseph, Bradley Rand Smith's theatrical script provides a bravura thespian workout for Ben McKenzie.

There may be a fairly sharp line dividing those who find the whole delightfully odd, and those irked by what could be read as a faux childlike simplicity to the enterprise.

Dani Menkin's documentary tracks his odyssey, which by nature is hard to be cynical about. Still, the feature feels padded even at 70 minutes.

Visceral and engrossing.

It goes down as easy as a cherry Coke.

Isn't an embarrassment. Rather, it's an acceptably executed, thoroughly routine time-killer.

Won't linger in the memory long, but gives pretty good action eye-candy while it's going.

Munch's usual stylishness and casual storytelling tenor lend persuasion to this curious drama about two brothers, both teen music idols, who demonstrate an incestuous attraction.

Benefits from blend of live actors with computer-generated effects and backgrounds. Feature doesn't add up to much more than an enjoyable novelty.

Yields few surprises, compensating with de rigueur false scares, unmemorable deaths and the kind of improbably exaggerated gore.

As generic in every aspect as Brian De Palma's original was inventive.

A feel-good comic ensembler that's hard to resist.

Forgettable fun for the undiscriminating.

Rouses excitement mostly from stuntwork and thesp agility rather than CGI excess.

The comedy's broad perfs, predictable story beats and pro but characterless packaging have a smallscreen feel.

Succeeds as light entertainment -- even if at the cost of the material's greater potential.

Subject's career being inextricably tied to two extremely entertaining U.S. decades, Gonzo has a wealth of delightful archival footage to draw on, both directly involving Thompson and evoking the cultural landscape around him.

Weak even by the standard of uninspired recent Asian-horror remakes, The Uninvited is more likely to induce snickers and yawns than shudders and yelps.

This ostensible spoof of "radical chic" is, like his previous works, at once amusingly outrageous and slightly dull.

A handsome package whose atmospherics outclass merely serviceable plot and character elements.

A breezy, good-humored love letter to the city itself.

A sterling space cadet performance by Anna Faris floats the genial if slight pothead comedy Smiley Face, a distaff "Dude, Where's My Car?"

Powerhouse performances by Liam Neeson and James Nesbit make this an intense, ultimately moving tale.

Very striking stylistic control is exerted in this absorbing if overlong tale of angst-ridden high school competitors.

Provides scant entertainment value, intentional or otherwise.

Neither fish nor fowl, slick yet strangely rudderless Ghostlight sounds interesting in description but lacks fascination in actual viewing.

Force of personality and terrific vintage performance clips make a keeper of Anita O'Day: The Life of a Jazz Singer.

A straightforward record of the lecture Gore has toured for years, juiced by elaborate graphics. An excellent educational tool, picture may prove an awkward fit for theatrical distribution.

Consistently engaging due to the wealth of generally unfamiliar archival footage, which reveals social trends, sweeping overview should provoke healthy debate.

Essentially a worst-case-scenario white-knuckler executed with terrifically focused skill and realism.

Without the songs, the underdeveloped bisexual triangle would seem shapeless. Even with the music, the film is a poorly crafted grab-bag of ideas barely elaborated upon enough to sustain a 20-minute short.

Winningly unpretentious tale uses a wispy romantic narrative as a vehicle for attractive original tunes.

Chilling, often moving docudrama focuses not so much on the mayhem or murderer, but on the bewildered, occasionally courageous reactions of ordinary citizens caught in the inexplicable violence.

A horror comedy much closer to the actor-riffing drollery of Edgar Wright and Christopher Guest than "Scary Movie"-style splatstick, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Undead is one sly slice of the ridiculous.

Looking good but lacking much in the way of personality or gray matter -- rather like its characters -- Valentine is a straightforward slasher pic that's acceptably scary until a weak finale.

At first a little tabloid in tenor and editorial style, pic soon distances itself from the myriad court TV shows with a fine balance of everyday detail and verite drama.

Misses with its blowhard treatment of a silly, obvious script. Results might hazard "Battlefield Earth" comparison if new pic were a tad more fun.

Hapless, laughless movie.

Plays like a so-so middle chapter of an epic series rather than a fitting kickoff.

Narrower focus may lend this less crossover appeal than "Step Into Liquid," which was practically a recruitment poster for the surfing lifestyle. But such a tight focus might also make Billabong a repeat must-see for more dedicated boarders and wannabes.

An easy watch, thanks to the splendors of frosty scenery and furry canines.

Neil Marshall's flair for visceral action more than compensates for his script's lack of conceptual novelty in Doomsday. Principally South Africa-shot tale of a post-apocalyptic Great Britain cobbles together large chunks of "Escape From New York," "The Road Warrior," "28 Days Later" and "Resident Evil," but those with a taste for revved-up, splattery fantasy thrills won't be complaining.

Results here are just middling funny, with no truly memorable high points and a sum impact that goes poof!

Equal parts colorful character study and real-world procedural, docu by Daniel Kraus retains interest throughout, even if it delivers just partial insight into the man, job and milieu.

Routine in some aspects, but compensates via psychologically sharp writing and performances.

Second feature from duo David Wain and Ken Marino of comedy group the State is, like their "Wet Hot American Summer," uneven but often hilarious.

Despite its handsome look and good thesping workout for Sam Rockwell, the story stretches a bit thin over feature length.

The point is not very clear, but there's an impressive weirdness to Mad Cowgirl that elevated it above more strained attempts at transgressive cinema.

A colorful, lurid and ultimately so-what look at obnoxious personalities careening down their own road to ruin.

Unremarkable but competent in stylistic terms, with good use of Philadelphia locations, sharp casting and the requisite marketable hip-hop soundtrack adding up to a fun genre package.

Likely lack of much critical enthusiasm or positive word-of-mouth will induce quick theatrical falloff, with better news likely down the line for rental merchants.

While in some ways an improvement on the book, this seriocomedy toplining Katie Holmes remains short on truly involving characters or situations, and is likely to spark unflattering comparisons to such vaguely similar, more distinctive films as "Rachel Getting Married" and "Margot at the Wedding."

Filmmakers' own left-leaning sympathies are occasionally felt around the margins, but Conventioneers achievement lies in its honoring the sincerity and passion on both sides.

Providing an inspiration for active retirement, the ex-Harlem Renaissance chorus girls profiled in docu Been Rich All My Life are still shaking booty while most of their contemporaries can only shuffle their walkers.

The Nines arcs from witty Hollywood insiderdom to a climactic metaphysical leap that may leave many viewers nonplussed. Nonetheless, there's more than enough intelligence, intrigue and performance dazzle to make this an adventuresome gizmo for grownups.

Offering blandly stereotypical characters in a trite road-trip narrative, it's genial but too silly for most grownups, and likely to impress few "High School Musical"-indoctrinated kids.

It's shiny, amusing, incessantly clever, but sometimes a tad too snarky for its own good.

While refraining from excess melodrama or overt preachiness, pic makes no secret of its dismay at this chapter in American history.

Expertly edited chronicle doesn't lead to any major explosion, but reveals plenty -- little of it pleasant -- en-route.

Undeniably entertaining for its zippy presentation.

The popular human-interest story of a child prodigy becomes an engrossing meditation on truth, media exploitation and the value of art in My Kid Could Paint That.

This not particularly well shot/organized feature isn't very engaging on the human level, either.

There's a slightness to the mildly eccentric material here that leaves the whole enterprise in danger of fluttering away.

An imperfect but compelling thriller.

Engaging documentary draws on plentiful archival footage and A-list interviewees, and should lure dedicated nostalgists.

Johnson (who scripted "Grumpy Old Men") flattens out any promise so completely that the feature resembles nothing so much as a subpar "Hallmark Hall of Fame" entry.

Thornton carries the film with relaxed authority, though the earnest tone doesn't let him explore the nuttier aspects of a character who, from any reasoned distance ought look more screwy than heroic. Madsen is radiant.

A fairly sexy, serious-minded drama hobbled by its lack of real conceptual ambition.

Bleakly Dickensian as all this sounds, much of China Blue is charming, because its subjects are.

Very English, very period and very polite.

Draws on extensive archival materials to etch an absorbing portrait of a singular counterculture mini-phenom that will be manna to music fans.

Dull casting and cliche-ridden writing drain everyone of vividness.

Aussie genre pics of the 1970s and '80s get a rip-roaring salute in Not Quite Hollywood, complete with endorsement by Quentin Tarantino as chief onscreen fanboy.

Has stubborn charm, suggesting onward-and-upward career prospects for helmer/coscenarist Remi Lange.

Scheide's feature never quite seizes the potential for full-on "Stepfather" thrills or "Serial Mom"-style black comedy, leaving pic diverting but too mild.

Colangelo (whose underrated 2014 first feature “Little Accidents” was about the aftermath of a fatal mining accident) has created a consistently interesting if slow-moving drama that works very well as a showcase for its lead performer.

A B movie in A-grade clothing.

The thing-a-ma-jigs have it out with the whatch-a-ma-call-its -- as several humans scurry and scream between -- in Alien Vs. Predator, the kind of two-for-one dogfight (last repped by "Freddy Vs. Jason") that usually does more to bury a franchise than revive it.

Even in a more fluid package, this mix of camp comedy and bathos would seem artificial.

Often grotesque, though never in the "Sick and Twisted" juvenile gross-out mode, dreamlike feature is as lovingly crafted as it is unsettlingly sour-sweet, with Mark Growden's avant-garde folk score in perfect synch.

This dumb, derivative teen slasher movie would be uninspiring coming from any writer-director, let alone one with several genre classics under his belt.

Completely over-the-top yakuza actioner -- featuring nonstop mayhem, gore, torture and S&M -- duly reflects its comic book origins in both style and barely coherent narrative frenzy.

Nearly half over before it finds a consistent groove, let alone a decent hit-to-miss joke ratio.

The sense of immediacy and excitement is contagious.

Crisp handling, some clever twists and a welcome streak of dry humor hold attention throughout

Getting so close to real-life mental illness, via footage that spans many years, renders Tarnation a uniquely potent experience.

Pic's nastiness is so insistent, one-dimensional and excessive it risks self-parody.

Warm and entertaining enough, with Brenda Blethyn doing a variation on her "Little Voice" vulgarian amid appealing support perfs.

A basically admiring if critical portrait, documentary by Henriette Mantel and Stephen Skrovan (strangely, both standup comics and TV comedy writer-producers) finds more than enough absorbing material to hold interest through nearly three-hour runtime.

A lively, plush but unconvincing potboiler cobbled from familiar pieces of better films (and TV miniseries).

Devil is nothing very special or original, but it gets the job done briskly and economically.

A powerful and damning look at the long-term impact of sexual abuse.

This genuine curio maintains its mystery to the end.

Though central dynamic is a familiar one -- old coot and young lost soul thrown together -- perfs, understated script and well-judged direction avoid too-obvious sentimentality or melodrama. Nonetheless, overall story arc is fairly predictable, and deliberate pacing sometimes risks dullness.

Daryl Wein's engrossing portrait of Richard Berkowitz is freshly engaging largely due to the subject himself.

Scary Movie 4 finds horror parody overshadowed by ho-hum groin blows, C-list celebrity cameos, slapstick child abuse, soon-to-be-forgotten hip-hop personalities, plus scatalogical and gay jokes; real laughs are few.

Excellent documentary American Hardcore chronicles the short-lived but influential musical moment when a defiantly anti-commercial underground put a distinctive U.S. stamp on the hitherto Brit-driven punk movement.

Trivial-sounding hook manages to float a funny but complex meditation on identity, ethnicity and cultural expectations that should be as accessible to teens as adults.

In the end, Silent Hill degenerates into an overblown replay of all those "Twilight Zone" and Stephen King stories in which outsiders stumble upon a time-warped location from which there's no escape.

Unpretentious, funny and touching, Edge of Seventeen rates as a quintessential Amerindie sleeper.

An amusingly over-the-top horror comedy.

Gyllenhaal, in her most substantial role since "Secretary," does a fine, unshowy job of limning Sherry's faults without alienating the viewer or pleading for sympathy.

Plays out in quite a different offscreen context than did last year's similarly themed sleeper "Startup.com."

Never quite dull, neither does it ever find a viable rhythm, narrative arc or crux of emotional engagement.

Performances are aptly quirky and ingratiating, Holdridge's seriocomic balance nicely judged. But the most outstanding element in an accomplished low-budget package is Robert Murphy's lensing, which recalls "Manhattan" in its B&W celebration of a cityscape.

This first-rate multicamera transcript of a terrific show should delight musical fans (and many who think they aren't) as a niche broadcast item.

An ensemble seriocomedy that's initially loose to a fault, but gradually wins one over with its shaggy charm -- and by the close has grown more ambitious, and poignant, than initial reels lead you to expect.

Pedantic, humorless and one-sided -- qualities that won't encourage exposure beyond the activist left.

Picture's retro feel is rendered pleasing overall by scribe's linguistic flair and the enjoyable cast.

Predicament makes the picture kin to 2001's "Trembling Before G-d," about gay Orthodox Jews. Both docs share the same fascination and limitation.

Despite its faltering touch with the story's darker, more melodramatic threads, Her Majesty nonetheless proves winning overall thanks to a predominant emphasis on nostalgia, whimsy (heroine's royal audience fantasies include one full-on production number) and droll-to-broad humor.

Works best as a straightforward appreciation of the music. Though docu's structure wears out full viewer interest after an hour or so, few will come away with staid prejudices (i.e. that turntablism isn't "real" musicianship) intact.

A romantic comedy that treads familiar "Green Card" terrain with considerable charm if no great style or originality.

Delivers fairly tense and engrossing drama before succumbing to thriller convention.

Content is engrossing (if so fast-paced that uninformed viewers might easily get lost), but packaging is sometimes questionable.

At best routinely assembled -- at worst barely competent. The slapstick is labored, and the bigger setpieces flat.

Even more empty a luxury vehicle than its predecessor, M:I 2 pushes the envelope in terms of just how much flashy packaging an audience will buy when there's absolutely nada inside.

Good performances and quirky humor make this slick if less than fully satisfying mix of romantic comedy and mystery an easy sit.

Slick, ingratiating and high-spirited enough to win over gay men of all colors.

Competently made but unconvincing melodrama.

A pleasant and polished first feature for director Gene Cajayon.

Well-made if not particularly insightful docu should be catnip to Phishheads, while the previously unconverted are likely to stay that way.

"Thing" suffers the familiar curse of Canadian seriocomedy -- just nice enough in content and stylistically like a telepic.

Despite a few good moments, this well-intentioned seriocomedy mostly wobbles between crude yocks, lame generation-gap humor and sentimental cliche.

Though interviews here are primarily with former camp followers and pic was made by one, overall perspective is just critical enough to satisfy both New Age types and curious skeptics.

The modest splash made by Andreas Dresen's Dogme-styled 2002 drama "Grill Point" raised expectations his projects since haven't quite met, including the new Summer in Berlin.

Numerous lovely, quirky moments.

Palahniuk's antic absurdism is duly present, but the hurtling pace and barely-underlying nihilism that transferred to screen so vividly in "Fight Club" aren't much in evidence here.

Beyond their obvious talent as a writing team, Amir and Savyon have terrific chemistry — particularly with each other but also with their love interests here.

Good music and good company make “Itzhak” a pleasure, though those seeking a methodical career overview should look elsewhere than this genial personality sketch of the world-famous violinist.

Surprises are reserved for the final half-hour, at which point the slow-paced Palmetto has long since fossilized as a routine exercise in ceiling-fan, sweaty-forehead noir-by-numbers.

Intimate and engrossing.

A respectful, illuminating appreciation of a few of the estimated 13 million yogis in India.

A film whose charms are odd and indefinable by design.

Slick, good-looking, cluttered pic won't please fans of novelist Susan Cooper's original "The Dark Is Rising" sequence. But then, they are mostly grown-ups by now, and this very Hollywood-style adaptation of a very English book is aimed squarely at tweens.

Stalled character development in the second half of the pic reduces the impact of the whole.

Given the abysmal quality of recent spoof pics, it's saying something that Superhero Movie provides a fairly steady stream of midsized laughs -- and even the 40% or so of gags that just lie there aren't actively painful.

Combines straightforward coming-of-age narrative with Maori mysticism to most engaging effect.

The picture wobbles a bit before emerging a successful low-key satire of literary fraud and morbid personality cults.

A suitably unfussy tribute to a band that disdained even the slightest rock-star flash, We Jam Econo tells the story of the Minutemen, whose regrettably brief but brilliant career did much to expand punk's parameters during the early 1980s.

It's a bad heterosexual date movie (more a date-gone-wrong), has too limited a gay angle for that demographic, and is about characters who are not particularly likable as individuals or as a couple.

Pic’s real delight is its sheer resourcefulness, as stunts and FX are re-created on a shoestring in one of the most elaborate amateur features ever made.

A pleasingly non-formulaic romantic seriocomedy, Definitely, Maybe has charm and some depth.

Often exhilarating docu charts several breakdancing crews' path to the Battle of the Year, which hosts national winners from 18 countries -- not excluding Israel, Belgium or Latvia -- in dazzling competitive displays.

Entertaining but never fully engrossing.

Avoiding rote inspirational notes as well as boyz-in-the-hood violence, scrupulously low-key drama nonetheless builds to a powerful impact.

Sharp performances and writing lend it a fresh appeal well above this genre's average.

This slick effort is effectively creepsome until it bogs down somewhat in plot explication.

Too bad this shrilly tuned comedy doesn't demand more than clock-punching effort from everyone involved.

Unfortunately that blast-off heralds an orbit to nowhere, with initial delight fading as pic runs out of ideas all too soon, never building a sense of momentum or narrative thrust.

Sean Penn delivers a compelling, ambitious work that will satisfy most admirers of the book.

Debuting helmer Walter assembles an aptly colorful package, with stylistic integration of elements from Johnson's delightful visual art. A major plus is the skittering percussion score by bebop jazz great Max Roach.

Emerges an uneven, occasionally vivid, ultimately unsatisfactory treatment of themes that should've packed more punch.

The Amerindie annals are over-full of withdrawn male loners hoping to quirk or cathart themselves out of teenage purgatory. But like "Donnie Darko," "Thumbsucker" and a few others, The Wackness treads this familiar terrain with assurance and distinction.

Those involved got to spend weeks at a Bora Bora luxury resort; all we get is this not lousy but unmemorable tropical-vacation comedy.

Docmeister Arthur Dong brings empathetic balance and emotional heft to the discord between fundamentalist Christian parents and their gay children.

Minimally plotted but beautifully atmospheric nightmare.

A slick but forgettable, characterless thriller.

Whether this is a good or bad thing depends on just how much 14-year-old boy you've got in ya.

An exercise in canned cuteness, Because I Said So pushes its normally appealing stars, Diane Keaton and Mandy Moore, over the edge of sitcom hysteria.