Derek Elley

A 2½-hour demo of auteurist self-importance that's artistically bankrupt on almost every level.

An interesting idea comes over only half-formed in Johnnie To's Breaking News, an effective Hong Kong crimer that partly returns to the realistic style of some of his late '90s dramas, but never properly knits its theme of media manipulation into pic's punchy thriller format.

The Dark Hours surmounts some of the problems of its weak dialogue through a commanding performance by lead Kate Greenhouse and some grisly, genre-style violence.

Utterly unsentimental but profoundly moving,The Way Home" is a tiny gem from South Korea.

Well worth a look, despite its flaws.

Attempts to meld reality and artifice but to uninspiring results.

Admirably non-judgmental docu about life in "the least visited, known, understood country in the world," per Brit director Daniel Gordon, brings a refreshing balance to the usual blind vilification of the country.

Like a passable bottle of champagne, Cheri fizzes and slides down quite easily but lacks real body and doesn't really hit the spot.

Playful and sporty, with just a small twist of the knife, The Cat's Meow is good, uncomplicated fun.

Small but delightful tale about a dyed-in-the-wool spieler who develops a soft spot for a blind girl dumped in his care.

Despite its sudsy storyline, this second tour through the punk-infested Rio slums could attract more mature arthouse auds, drawn by character rather than the minutiae of guns 'n' drugs, though it's unlikely to match "God's" muscular $7.5 million U.S. take.

Escalating blend of black humor and grisly goings-on in the wilds of Hungary fully delivers in its latter half.

As a series of action set pieces, the movie is frequently gripping and always highly watchable. However, when the movie strays into weirder territory --- where, one feels, Jeunet's heart really lies --- there's a growing feeling of inadequacy.

Four years after Frantic, Roman Polanski approaches rock bottom with Bitter Moon, a phony slice of huis clos drama between two couples aboard a Euro ocean liner. Strong playing by topliner Peter Coyote can't compensate for a script that's all over the map and a tone that veers from outre comedy to erotic game-playing.

Too slim to make much impression outside fests, this nevertheless reps another solid outing by former art director Huo Jianqi.

Big emotional themes come hidden in a deceptively small package in Longing, a mightily impressive feature debut by German writer-director Valeska Grisebach.

From its opening shots, Butterfly Kiss exudes a confidence and distinctive feel that promises something rather special. Unlike its characters, the pic knows where it's going.

With very little dialogue, and even less plot, five chapter stops lend the movie a skeletal structure: "Wrath," "Silent Warrior," "Men of God," "The Holy Land" and "Hell." But any discussion of the Dark Ages conflict between paganism and Christianity is reduced to just grunts or insults.

Political realities are a powerful bonus to, rather than the only reason for, Private, an emotionally gripping drama.

Full of charming moments, but swinging hither and thither between mainstream entertainment and an over-cooked anti-racist tract.

What gives Quitting its freshness is its setting in a country that often denies it has such problems and the decision to anchor the film strongly within the Chinese family fabric.

Its soul rests in Skarsgard's performance, a powerful mixture of buttoned-down anger and personal disappointment that combines the filmmaker's self-questioning with the real-life character's conflict.

High on charm but extremely low on content, Blue Gate Crossing is a half-hour short stretched to feature length.

Overplays its slim hand by a good two reels.

Though Chan wins his usual stripes for death-defying... the movie ends on a dramatically unsatisfying note.

Flavorsome performances by a seasoned cast, held in check by Grant's traditional but well-crafted, always cinematic direction.

An astonishing improvement on the original version. With 27 minutes excised, pic emerges from its mind-numbing undergrowth as a memorable -- if still highly specialized -- exercise in personal, '70s-style American filmmaking, with a cohesive feel and rhythm that marks Gallo as a distinctive indie talent.

A crackerjack serial-killer chiller in "Seven" mold, Tell Me Something cleverly disguises its thoroughly generic content and leaps of logic with highly honed technique and an involving approach to narrative.