Elizabeth Weitzman

Ten years into the "Jackass" franchise, it's obvious the well is starting to run dry. Then again, if you show Johnny Knoxville an empty well, he'll jump in headfirst. After packing it with writhing snakes.

As slickly entertaining as you’d expect a Disney-produced inspirational sports movie to be. But it’s so lacking in sincerity and creativity that “inspirational” never rounds the corner to “inspiring.”

A message movie that's genuinely worth watching.

As both a comedian and filmmaker, Bobcat Goldthwait ("Shakes the Clown") has carved out a valuable spot as an idiosyncratic instigator. But even fans may be disappointed at how swiftly he undermines its own message here.

There are no surprises among the characters — depressed mom (Amy Jo Johnson), controlling aunt (Cynthia Stevenson), new boyfriend (Tatanka Means) — but the cast is strong enough to build on familiar elements.

Director Salim Akil has found actors skillful enough to enhance Elizabeth Hunter and Arlene Gibbs' conventional screenplay.

But oy, such terrible jokes and choppy direction. Would it have killed her to share the credits with someone else?

If you watched "Project Runway's" first season and wondered what happened to winner Jay McCarroll, here's your chance to find out.

Just once, can't a city slicker go country and stay unchanged? Not in this sentimental 1995 Italian drama.

Other than a few witty jokes and a game cast, there's nothing particularly special here.

There's little depth underneath the simmering surface, but if you're looking for escapist Halloween scares, you could do a lot worse.

There is plenty of evidence that Webber has something significant to say, and the gifts with which to express himself. Once he’s ready to commit fully to his own vision, there’s no end to what he might accomplish.

To be sure, there are many reasons to see the film. The cinematography is memorably vibrant, and the performances are solid, even if they pass by too swiftly. Most of all, of course, the subject matter remains fascinating.

Salles has made an admirable effort, which - while no roman candle - can be appreciated for its honest ambitions.

The sort of movie that’s not good enough to embrace, but not quite bad enough to dismiss.

Here's hoping its old-fashioned sensibility appeals to contemporary kids, because we could certainly use more movies as smart and sweet as this one.

Frankly, Zellweger shouldn't have to compete with the ghosts of Rosalind Russell and Carole Lombard, as Clooney forces her to do. It's one thing to evoke the Champagne sophistication of the screwball era; it's another to try to emulate it. Inevitably, the harder you work at capturing madcap fizz, the flatter things are going to feel.

Don't be fooled by the WB appeal; if you've ever been in high school, Cruel Intentions has the wiles to seduce.

Nunez's fans will appreciate his ability to evoke a palpable atmosphere. But there's just not enough spark in his scorched setting.

If you flinch at "boo," you'll find plenty to jump at here. Just don't expect striking originality, or even genuinely memorable eeriness. Still, every time "Dark" starts to feel like a generic thriller, it's saved by the distinctive stamp of co-screenwriter/producer Guillermo del Toro.

Linney hits a single note for her uptight character, while Walters travels the scale indiscriminately. Her outsized eccentric darts from amusing to grating. Only Grint is just right, as the boy they, and the film, can't do without.

Fortunately, the cast — featuring Allison Janney as Bianca’s scattered mom and Ken Jeong as her sympathetic mentor — is savvy and silly. Really, though, most of the credit goes to Whitman, who stands in, and stands up, for the DUFF in all of us.

All we get is mild platitudes before the shows, and one-song sets.

Zingaretti does a fine job shading a character that is written as an unalloyed saint.

It’s a shame to see both actor and director play things so safe. Not only is much of the choreography reminiscent of their better films, but they rely too much on digital effects. Instead, we should be awed solely by the sight of a first-rate fighter.

Just because Dimension considered Greg McLean's nasty exploitation flick worthy of their time and money doesn't mean it deserves yours.

There are some very moving scenes, and Ankilewitz' emotional and physical strength is certainly inspiring. Equally compelling is the dedication of his able-bodied friends and family, who never patronize him. Regrettably, the film itself, which feels both breathlessly over-awed and padded out at only 74 minutes, is unable to treat him with the same relaxed respect.

It won't change anyone's world, but it'll keep kids happy - and cool - for a couple of hours.

There's a great deal of potential here, but like Will, Minghella loses his bearings whenever he wanders too far from home.

Unfortunately, Miller never finds the right balance, so while there are some sweet notes, the pileup of clichés ultimately leaves a slightly acrid aftertaste.

The movie is mildly notorious for a (relatively chaste) scene in which Radcliffe's character loses his virginity. But if you're looking to watch this former child star grownup, track down his classic guest turn on TV's "Extras" instead.

Has some nice moments, but it feels very much like a first film. The pacing is off, and the cast members appear to be acting in completely different projects.

Though the results are only moderately compelling, the film's problems stem not from a lack of ideological thrust, but rather from a protagonist who is so phenomenally unlikable.

Some moments of off-the-cuff beauty aren't enough to mask the creepy heart of Larry Clark's latest look at outcast kids.

Kline has a ball, while Dano turns in a pitch-perfect performance. He never mocks his character's desires, or undersells his fears.

There are certain elements in life that you either have a taste for, or you don't. Like coffee. Cats. And Mr. Bean.

Though intermittently shrill, Shopping does have enough moments of insight to blunt charges of sexist stereotyping.

A charmingly loony tale of two young loners who form an unlikely bond, this droll Japanese import puts the predictable banality of most Hollywood teen flicks to shame.

The moments when "Z&M" works are, almost without exception, the ones that are more sweet than shocking. All the rest, frankly, feel like Apatow Lite.

It's disappointing when a big-screen romance can't match up to the one in your imagination, at any age.

In Hollywood, all is forgiven if you can deliver the goods. On-screen, at least, there’s little difference between this Gibson and the one we remember from earlier films like “Ransom” and “Payback.”

Because his self-conscious musings are given so much space, it helps to arrive at the movie already awed by Shicoff's talents so you can overlook his (and this dramatically unfocused film's) flaws.

When you name your movie Dom Hemingway and then require the titular antihero to repeatedly declare, “I am Dom Hemingway!” the filmmakers must be very confident that there is something special about their character. Too bad there isn’t.

We never learn why most of his subjects remain loyal to a faith that so explicitly rejects them.

This slickly packaged bit of Disneyana would probably work best as an attraction at Epcot.

There's no denying the beauty of Schwartzberg's landscapes, or the power in many of his chosen stories - from the Texas oil well fighters to the Boston father who helps his handicapped son win marathons.

At its best when it embraces its true identity, as frivolous fun.

While "FWK" never challenges us, it does remain consistently engaging.

While a good director can spin a worthy movie from any subject, first-timer Carlos Brooks does surprisingly little with the jaw-dropper of a topic he chose.

Sedgwick and Bacon are visibly delighted to be together, and we buy Cynthia and Stan’s connection even when it feels underwritten.

The most adorably filthy movie you may ever see.

We can't quite shake the feeling we've seen this all done before, and better.

Odd as it is to watch both DeLoreans treated as afterthoughts, Driven is a joyride more interested in the journey than in any significant destination.

Despite its definitive title, you won't actually learn much about Alfred Hitchcock from Sacha Gervasi's briskly superficial biopic. But you'll enjoy the experience anyway.

Still, every time Kurt opens his mouth you wish he would refocus and realize that, in fact, we've come to see a movie about someone else.

It's not sharp or ironic, but drab and downbeat. Unfortunately, it's also going to feel utterly familiar to those who've seen their share of independent dramas in the last 15 years.

If any life story should make for a compelling biography, it's certainly Hugh Hefner's. Unfortunately, this love letter is so lacking in any edge, the end result is not just unsexy but unforgivably staid.

This is the kind of movie in which Jarrod's nemesis turns out to be paraplegic, while his dad lives in a wheelchair despite the fact that he can walk just fine. Ha.

Mostly, Benazzo and Day leave us alone to take in the extraordinary sights and sounds.

Lee pushes this joyride into stimulation overdrive, playing with colors and film speeds and surfaces and shadows until it makes perfect sense that a movie should be all about energy, rather than -- well, about anything else at all.

Nolot elicits the last response expected from a movie that's almost entirely about sex: a yawn.

Leaves almost no impression at all.

Despite its problems, there's a touching sweetness at the heart of Nancy Savoca's intimate family drama about estranged sisters trying to reconnect.

Helstein doesn't have to work so hard to remind us of her subject's gravity; the stories chronicled are chilling enough without embellishment.

Perry also spices things up with two of his most reliable fallbacks: music, and Madea. Having packed his cast with singers, he allows them all a moment to shine, with songs that deliver his patented lessons (trust in yourself, trust in others, trust in God).

From performances to pacing, nearly every element of Rao's debut is uneven. But her passionate vision of so much useless prejudice leaves a lingering impact.

Cowan, a gay Mormon himself, deftly melds facts with emotions, alternating between a history of the church's anti-gay drive and interviews with those directly affected by it.

What makes the calculated sentimentality palatable is Curtis’ intelligent assurance as he guides us through each step. It’s a gooey indulgence, to be sure, but one that will please anybody with a cinematic sweet tooth.

Though the film ultimately falls short of its considerable promise, there's more than enough here to keep thoughtful moviegoers - of any age - intrigued.

Proudly, and often hilariously, juvenile, "Destiny" is packed with typically grandiose Tenacious D anthems - the sort that thrill 15-year-old boys listening alone in their bedrooms.

Understatement is one of Mark Wahlberg’s greatest assets. But that admirable trait winds up working against him in The Gambler, Rupert Wyatt’s otherwise intriguing dramatic thriller.

Long before your 140 minutes are up, you may wish you went to see "Sparkle" instead.

Cusack is excellent as Joan, the only woman in the film who values a girl's brains over her body, so it's a shame Fywell treats her with amused scorn.

We never really forget we're watching two highly paid professionals create a cinematic placebo, strong enough to entertain without making a long-term impact. Fortunately, everyone works just hard enough to sell us on the whole thing anyway.

Very good but very grim, Paul Andrew Williams' punishing debut doesn't pull many punches - although the characters certainly field their share of body blows.

Avila has a tough task, visualizing violent and complicated events through a child's eyes. The calmer scenes are staged in staid and somewhat clunky fashion, but the graphic animation depicting the worst moments is starkly effective.

A lightweight goof that feels a little dashed-off.

The real reason to see the movie -- and it's reason enough -- is the trove of archival footage, which shows a star of almost impossible magnetism.

Despite the intriguing potential, the end result is a queasy stalemate.

Like his 2007 political drama, "Lions for Lambs," Robert Redford's fictionalized chronicle of Mary Surratt's 1865 trial is high-minded and slow-moving. Some may chafe at his unsubtle sermonizing, but strong central performances will reward the patient.

The Lego Ninjago Movie does fit into the decidedly silly, self-aware sphere of the Lego movie franchise. Comparisons won’t help it any, though: unlike the two previous entries, this one feels a little worn around the edges.

Tusk is alternately amusing, appalling and frustrating. It’s also unique.

Fans are, obviously, most likely to appreciate the concert footage that's woven throughout the film. But the most powerful moments come offstage, when we see young audience members burn with the fresh outrage of the newly enlightened.

Herzog has certainly found a fascinating subject, but he does surprisingly little with it, especially considering the 135- minute running time.

Bogdanich turned in an exhaustively thorough document that sheds some light on a tragedy that remains shadowy to those outside its domain.

Boote's ambitious goals include finding out how plastics are made and how they're messing with our bodies and our planet.

Vanessa Lapa constructed this straightforward biopic about SS leader Heinrich Himmler from a recently found trove of his personal letters and photographs. Her streamlined approach seems appropriate for the subject, which boils down to the banality of evil.

The Good Liar really wants to be either a thriller or a caper. Unfortunately, it has neither the excitement necessary for the former nor the fun required of the latter.

Most of the movie elicits tense empathy, which builds to a genuinely nerve-wracking sense of dread.

Yeah, the story is corny and tired. But when you aren't rolling your eyes, you'll probably be wiping them dry.

Maggio and his stars find some unexpected truths in a familiar tale.

Unfortunately, the visuals are not compelling enough on their own to hold our interest, and a highly mannered Derek Jacobi is all wrong as the narrative voice of Nijinsky.

The jokes, fast and furious enough to satisfy both teens and intrepid parents, are far funnier than they are raunchy.

A sharp sendup of suburban conformity and American materialism, The Joneses does burn through its credit by the end. But it's flashy enough to catch our eye, and keep our interest nearly all the way through.

This time around, the cult director dispenses with the feminism, the satire, and even the issues, so he can concentrate on his true passion: the dissecting.

The soundtrack is a genre-hopping joy, and each musical number is cleverly staged and creatively choreographed. The problem is the noble mess of a movie that takes up so much space in between.

Luhrmann piles on one shiny distraction after another. But amid all the seductively gaudy excess, DiCaprio finds both the heart and hurt buried within one of literature’s everlasting enigmas.

A decidedly lightweight amusement.

None of the children are professionals, and their uncontrived performances lend a painfully real quality to what becomes a rather lyrical story.

Koury's harsh documentary is likely to leave you unsettled and depressed. Which is, clearly, just what it's supposed to do.

For her part, Lotz carries the load with such briskly efficient confidence, it's no surprise to learn that she's already got several more movies on the way.

Though Nair leaves us guessing as to Changez’s motivations, she also uses a pretty heavy hand in laying out the movie’s themes. The changes between the novel and the screenplay are equally unsubtle, especially in regards to the ill-conceived romance.

The most interesting threads aren't political but personal, with a melodramatic romance providing some well-earned tears. Your final thoughts, however, are likely to concern Jennifer Tilly, who's so bizarrely miscast as a severe missionary that her presence becomes its own distraction.

Anthologies are risky. For every high point, there's often a misstep to match. But this indie compilation has enough inventive chills to interest any horror fan.

Should have been either darker or funnier. Or both.

There’s a lot of heart in his creativity. But this particular effort, delightful as it often is, lacks some essential soul.

Even as Lau's intentions are to nudge us back into real life, the images flickering on screen continue to hold us rapt.

The script is a mess, built on lazy clichés, stilted jokes and easy payoffs. What the movie does have, though, is enthusiasm.

If you're a rave virgin, it'll more likely make you feel like the guest nobody invited. And why would you pay nine bucks for that?

Nathan’s neurotic self-indulgence strains our patience.

As the most comfortable performer among this inexperienced cast, Walken brings a crucial maturity. In contrast, Young seems to have been hired primarily for his uncanny falsetto.

For the most part, the Plastics' music -- is not extraordinary. But as it's told here, their story is.

Giamatti and Rudd banter with appeal, but Melissa James Gibson’s lackluster script doesn’t offer either much to work with.

A horror flick that's all talk and (almost) no action? The risk pays off better than you'd think.

Mohan should have made a little more effort for us. Another pass at the screenplay probably would have done it. But one gets the sense he's already moved on to the next thing.

A strong cast, empathetic direction and memorable soundtrack help create a movie that does everyone proud.

If you’re willing to take the movie for what it really is — a fairly generic caper inspired by, rather than based on, actual events — you’ll find just enough to appreciate.

First-time writer/director Michael Johnson falls back on coming-of-age clichés. But overall, his sensitive, moody camerawork and the cast’s strong performances go a long way toward making the familiar feel fresh.

With all of the city available, she made the curious choice to follow couples who are neither unique nor especially memorable.

There's a lot of potential here, and a sharper script might have made all the difference.

Packed with filthy jokes, insane sight gags, and body parts used in decidedly uncommon ways, Brüno is hands-down the dirtiest R-rated movie you'll see this year.

As writer, director and producer, Bose has taken on more than she can handle - a fact increasingly obvious each time she stumbles over political themes. But she has a genuine gift for atmosphere, making the many wordless scenes, in teeming streets and on crowded trains, the movie's best.

While the whole cast -- including Dwayne (The Rock) Johnson -- is game, too much time was spent coordinating chase scenes and explosions, and too little fixing a slack script that relies on bathroom humor and snickering sex jokes.

The deeply private, intensely ideological and undeniably brilliant Watterson would make an absolutely fascinating subject. But director Joel Allen Schroeder has no access to him. So instead he talks a lot about how much he loves “Calvin and Hobbes” and then invites other fans to do the same.

"I hate this stinkin' war," Neil Young announces in this chronicle of CSNY's "Freedom of Speech Tour," and the rest of the movie is just as unapologetically blunt.

Anyone familiar with Reno's politically minded monologues won't be surprised by her fury, which has sometimes been fueled by a self-righteousness that's undermined her valid observations.

A flashy homage to a dozen better movies, this self-conscious Hong Kong action flick is so packed with visual thrills, you may not notice that there's absolutely nothing beneath its impressively slick surface.

Cynics need not show up, but if you're looking for a feel-good fairy tale, this one's certainly sweet enough to satisfy.

The cinematic equivalent of a cookie-cutter wedding, Made of Honor ultimately feels a little depressing.

There are ominously edited portents and a score that starts at fever pitch and rarely pulls back. But the frayed strands of the horror plot feel hastily woven together, and underwhelming when all is revealed.

This is simply too vast a task for a filmmaker as inexperienced as Estevez. Compared with, say, Robert Altman's similar but far more complex "Nashville," Bobby mostly comes off as a Hollywood public service announcement: passionate, righteous and strikingly removed from reality.

Though it lacks a focus or greater artistic vision, Thomas Balmès' no-frills documentary offers Westerners a valuable glimpse into the sweatshops of the new China.

While Cera is adorable, Yi’s faux ­naiveté is overplayed and her philosophical musings are underwhelming. But you won’t soon forget the real-life couples she interviews.

Ultimately, though, it all comes down to Duhamel. For a brief, heady moment, the real Galvan had all of Canada intrigued by his exploits. But the greatest coup of all is that his legacy will now forever be defined by Bandit.

The story feels fairly perfunctory — not to mention unnecessarily knotty — but the well-connected leads do their best to ground it. And while this one falls far short of the “Bourne” films that serve as an influence, the intense action scenes consistently deliver some solid genre jolts.

For the most part, we sit in on the conversations as good-natured, ordinary guys — all graduates of Brooklyn College in the ’50s — reminisce.

There's nothing here for kids, or, for that matter, anyone who claims to be an adult. But if the title makes perfect sense to you, the movie probably will, too.

Haven’t Cleveland fans suffered enough? Not only have they never won a Super Bowl, but now the Browns serve as the center of Ivan Reitman’s painfully creaky sports drama.

OK, haters: Here’s the movie meant to silence your complaints about Kristen Stewart’s acting range. And it might, if you can sit through all of it.

Alternates between being amusingly pretentious and studiously dull.

Though the mumblecore esthetic is familiar and the movie's ultimate impact slight, the filmmakers do find a fresh and modestly amusing twist by tossing their hipster out of his natural habitat.

The movie works as well as it does ­because the cast knows the material so ­intimately. (review of re-release)

His (Surnow) unfocused script swerves all over the road, but Christopher Meloni and Dean Norris repeatedly get things back on track.

Overlong at just 91 minutes, Brant Sersen's sardonic sports mockumentary would have made a hilarious short film. Instead, it's a mildly amusing feature that takes a few too many potshots at some very broad targets.

Short, sharp and to the point, Vacancy has a single goal, and that is to scare the hell out of you.

The lack of subtlety indicates that this is a first film, but the passion and insights are strong enough to make you wonder what he'll (Webber) do next.

Who would have guessed that sex, drugs and double-crossing could be so unrelentingly boring?

Provides just enough smart, silly fun for families desperately seeking an easy (and air-conditioned) escape from hazy August humidity.

It tends to get lost in its own delirium, which will enchant some and drive others bonkers.

We keep getting glimpses of a compelling subject, but it’s hard to know what Nichols is really going for, since he tosses so many disparate elements together without tying them into a meaningful thread.

Credit Icelandic director Sturla Gunnarsson for having an ambitious vision: He took a look at the eighth-century epic poem "Beowulf" and decided he could cut it down to size. And he has, for better and worse.

Like the average best-man toast, Debbie Isitt's amiable mockumentary has many funny moments, a few touching ones and some that fall just slightly flat.

Who would have thought that a real-life tale of sex, drugs and murder could be so instantly forgettable?

Not all of the movie works - in fact, huge portions don't - but there are enough striking moments to make a lasting impact. How ironic: In this fairy-tale of arrested development, Korine has created his most mature movie yet.

As an alternative to the slick, instantly forgettable fare usually made for kids and preteens, Ella Enchanted brings a little bit of magic to the multiplex.

It's fair to say that Bullock's appealing portrait of a strong-willed Tennessee belle ranks among the best work of her career. It's just too bad the movie around her comes up short.

A big heart and strong cast go a long way towards elevating its prosaic approach.

The movie’s strong sense of empathy, enhanced by several noteworthy performances, ought to engage most viewers.

Gently sweet but unmemorable bonbon.

Lighter on horror than it is on inadvertent humor.

The movie's beating heart is the friendship between the women, who had found some sort of happiness by the show's 2004 finale. Now they're all at a personal crossroads and need one another more than ever.

Everyone will be awed by the swooping shots and sweeping vistas -- the stuff IMAX really does know how to do right.

Director Jonathan Sobol clearly understands the first rule of a good grift: misdirection. He packs his middling caper flick with so many known faces, it’s easy to miss all the other familiarities.

For the most part, writer-director Stephen Susco (“The Grudge”) sees the Internet as a gimmick, a way to get some attractive, disposable protagonists from Point A to Point B. (Point A is “alive,” so…).

When it comes down to it, you can’t have a strong horror movie without a strong villain. Given that Chucky is currently working overtime to torment an entire community, surely Annabelle can do more than offer up a couple of creepy grins before calling it a day.

The sort of independent-film project that could have been disastrous in less-skilled hands. But Freeman's direction is so deft and the performances so natural that her remarkable experiment ends up feeling more realistic than most documentaries.

On the plus side, the actors - especially Butler and Wilkinson - work overtime to pump some extra life into the self-conscious script.

There’s little doubt that the obvious parallels between this dark coming-of-age drama and “To Kill a Mockingbird” are deliberate. But while they are undeniably overreaching, director Rufus Norris has adapted Daniel Clay’s young adult novel with a sensitivity that will appeal to teens and adults alike.

There are few real scares, though, and even fewer actual laughs. Despite several obvious gags, Aja never captures the spoofy fun of the 1978 original.

This is really the kind of movie that was made to be watched in a haze after midnight, at which point it would all, no doubt, make perfect sense.

Cheshire refuses to look away, no matter how complicated things get. In fact, it's the tangled, tortured roots that most inspire him, turning this deeply personal film into a potent meditation on our nation's past.

Grubin is an experienced documentarian, and he plays to his strengths here. He certainly makes the most of the Manhattan setting, whether his characters are practicing at Juilliard or playing for cash in the Times Square subway station.

What Palmer is, in every sense of the word, is decent. It’s familiar, and predictable, and a little bit hokey. But it’s also genuinely moving and surprisingly memorable, thanks to its two leads.

The result is undoubtedly impassioned. But it's also so blinkered and self-congratulatory that it feels like an undergraduate thesis project. Even if you relate to the cause, you may find yourself frustrated by the effort.

While a delicate topic would seem to require a delicate touch, Wexler goes more for cheeky entertainment. To some degree, it works.

Kids, of course, are unlikely to get the religious allusions. All they'll see is a decent family adventure, perfectly suited to a cold Saturday morning -- and likely to be forgotten by Sunday.

A sassy script and good-natured voice work from Benedict Cumberbatch and John Malkovich should keep kids and grownups entertained over the holidays.

Madhur Jaffrey and Faran Tahir fare considerably better as Nina's conservative mother and brother, leaving us confused ourselves: Why didn't Patel focus on them, instead?

Eisenstadt does a nice job with limited resources (shot briskly on video, the film feels like a home movie), successfully capturing the futility of struggling actors.

Though Hurt and Rossellini make a warmly believable couple, they can't overcome the film's biggest drawback: Gavras' own awkward attitude toward aging.

There is something infectious about the old-fashioned innocence of Mark Waters' comedy.

More vanity project than full-fledged film, Manu Boyer's modest chronicle is best left to diehard Kiefer Sutherland fans.

Wilson works overtime to hold Peter Cattaneo's flimsy comedy together.

While plenty of gross-out comedies have come and gone in the last two decades, Leslye Headland's Bachelorette may be the most vulgar of them all.

Despite the calculated advance press about the movie's nudity, polygamy, dirty talk, etc., David Wain's comedy is depressingly banal. And all that breathless hype now feels like nothing more than manipulation.

Though his slim script (co-written with Chris Smith) holds few surprises, Angarano’s direction is consistently confident. He paces this minor tale wisely, getting in and out of the characters’ small stories in a perfectly-timed 84 minutes.

Even when their picture wanders from any reasonable path, it's never less than stunning to look at.

With Australia, Luhrmann obviously intends to stage a grand romance against the epic backdrop of World War II. But what we get instead is an unwieldy mess that needed another six months in the editing room.

It clearly wants to be more, but it's failed by its lightweight leads.

It's an interesting conceit that quickly becomes a precious annoyance especially since the drama itself is so static.

The sort of slick-looking indie that plays well at film festivals, this heavy-handed boxing drama is really just a flyweight bulked up on cliches and false sentimentality.

The leads are all pros, but thanks to the increasing onslaught of shock humor about abortions and rape, among other things, what starts out amusing eventually becomes something of a drag.

Earth to Echo is a copy of a copy. The movie feels less like a weak “E.T.” than a substandard “Mac and Me.” And you may not even remember the latter, a 1988 flop — the fate likely to hit this well-meaning but underwhelming effort.

Some of Hart’s set — including jokes about his security team and an inspired recounting of a disastrous trip to a dude ranch — is hilarious. And his profane outrage is often funny enough to sell the weaker writing.

The thin, whimsical story is really better suited to a short film, but Hall deserves a lot of credit for carrying off such unusual material.

Looks so great, it may take a while to notice it's a clunky political parable wrapped in a tonally confused fairy tale.

David Kaplan's sweet, if superficial, fairy tale won't change the world, but it makes nice use of its setting (Chinatown) and visual style (rotoscope animation).

Overwhelmingly powerful.

The script is merely serviceable and too reminiscent of similar fantasy tales. But kids will instantly relate to the gentle Soren, while watching wide-eyed as he faces each challenge.

Neither particularly funny nor especially scary. But it's so cheerfully silly, you may just have fun with it anyway.

At its best when its heroes race furiously toward their missions, most of which involve jumping out of a helicopter into surging waves.

Fashion is something you either get or you don't, and whether you'll want to lay down $10 for Douglas Keeve's insider documentary depends entirely on whether you'd spend your last few bucks on the new issue of Vogue.

Like "Lions for Lambs," Redacted is more significant in its sense of purpose than its uneven execution.

This amped-up Japanese thriller is a fairly diverting tale of romantic and cultural alienation.

Ought to suit fans just fine.

Stonehearst Asylum, Brad Anderson’s adaptation of an Edgar Allan Poe story, is undeniably preposterous. But if you accept the grandly Gothic insanity here, there’s a lot of fun to be had.

While the story's silly, the stunts, choreographed by Jaa and popular Thai filmmaker Panna Rittikrai, are spectacular.

A Belgian "Deliverance," Calvaire (The Ordeal) not only treats us to a few good scares, it also teaches us that Europe has its own rednecks.

The first half of the movie is painfully tense, drawing us into a relationship that we desperately want to see work. But the screenplay lets its characters down, as it devolves into platitudes and melodrama.

An ongoing problem is the complete lack of chemistry between the leads.

It's not unusual for a Henry Jaglom film to fall into a black hole of narcissism, but he has outdone himself with his latest, a satire on Hollywood's unshakable self-absorption.

At heart, "BSM" is no different from the midnight movies of the '60s and '70s that reveled in a head-spinning blend of blatant exploitation, provocative racial commentary and overwrought performances.

He may earn his living as a cab driver, but the blank hero of Martín Rejtman's sardonic Argentinean comedy is perfectly content to hitch his way through life.

Sam Esmail’s fractured romance is beautifully shot and creatively structured, but he never gives us a single reason to root for his mismatched couple.

Out-pranking the prankster, [Berman] turns a documentary about an unpredictable subject into a meditation on what it means to make a documentary about an unpredictable subject.

The buoyant McMillan is a charming presence, but he's entirely miscast as a character described as moody and angry.

Ivory appears most concerned about creating a mood, and in this regard he's successful. But Ruth Prawer Jhabvala's surprisingly bland screenplay, based on Peter Cameron's novel, feels half-finished

While Fay Grim is too uneven to win Hartley many converts, it is laced with enough intelligence and wit to remind longtime fans why they were drawn to his unique vision in the first place.

The film's only dialogue is composed of Young's songs lip-synched and acted out by the cast. This makes for a very literal, somewhat stilted experience.

Like picking out a family at random and walking into their house during dinnertime. Sure, their conversations are fascinating to them. But to you, it's just boring, meaningless chatter.

The music will keep you in your seat, but there's so much more to this story. If only they'd gotten it right the second time around.

Most interesting are the founding mothers and fathers of this movement, who first appear amusingly nostalgic and eventually grow exceptionally bitter as they complain about the packaged and ambitious nature of artists today.

The Rock commits himself admirably to this trite tale, but by the end, even his enormous shoulders buckle under the weight of so many clichés.

Refn's version was successful enough to inspire two sequels; at its best, this effort will push Coyle's career a little further along in the U.S.

Philippe Le Guay's carefully-tailored crowd-pleaser does have its pleasures, even if originality is not among them.

The first feature from Adam Bhala Lough is brashly passionate in its desire to express the power and validity of graffiti art. But it's also preachy and single-minded, populated by a world of sympathetic heroes and hissable villains.

This Spanish sequel to a 2007 cult hit uses the way-overdone conceit of videotaped terror.

Clever, slightly edgy fun.

These women wear what they want, love who they want, find fulfillment in their power, and support each other unconditionally. They’re not undermined by a script that highlights their flaws or insecurities, or a camera that reflexively leers at them. They get to just be, with all the freedoms and potential of any other fictional heroes.

A nicely confident Schroeder strides though the movie as if it's a masterpiece, and Mulroney is equally charismatic. But they can't quite save Gracie from feeling like a vanity project that will appeal mostly to middle-school soccer teams, and various extended members of the Shue family.

While The Iron Lady fails as a biography, it succeeds incontestably as a showcase. Streep captures Thatcher's voice and mannerisms and then pushes further, creating a three-dimensional character rather than simply offering a technically deft impression.

The Colombian tourist board won't be too happy about Antonio Negret's intermittently compelling thriller, which presents his native country as a cesspool of corruption and violence.

And now, just as Bella Swan (Stewart) embraces her own eternal power, Breaking Dawn, Part 2 expands with a full intensity of force, stronger and more epic than the films that led to this impactful finale.

Hokey reenactments of the war years do the film no favors, but it’s worth sticking them out to witness a humanity that never could be faked.

Bieber's world - at least as edited for mass consumption - is a refreshingly wholesome universe, where a young superstar is good-natured and grateful, says grace before every meal, and spends all his free time on the tour bus tweeting. He also likes to hug, a lot.

While "Escape" was superior in story, "Race" does commit to an impressive scope. What it is, really, is a big-studio popcorn flick that just happens to be made for tweens.

Unlike most inner-city stories that come out of Hollywood, this feels like the real thing.

Although the period feeling is convincing, Forman doesn't seem to know exactly what he wants to say about this intensely complex era - and that leaves his cast floundering.

Noya is a natural actor, and there are genuinely sweet moments between him and the adults. So, why did Agresti feel the need to pour so much added sugar down our throats?

After a promising start that uses Anna Paquin and Kristen Bell to perfection, they settle into their old stomping grounds as if they'd never left - and that turns out to be a letdown.

The primary drawback is the lack of chemistry between the leads, Reese Witherspoon and "Twilight's" Robert Pattinson.

Starts out as fresh as your popcorn, but turns stale before you finish it.

Director Tina Gordon Chism, who also wrote the screenplay, seems to have relied pretty strongly on Perry for guidance. In particular, she rejects any notions of subtlety, either in the comedy or the weirdly heavy-handed messages about masculinity.

Since Håfström and his crew stick their landing, those who particularly enjoy second-hand claustrophobia may find it worth the long journey. Everyone else, however, will be better served by more engaging enterprises here on Earth.

There's a fine line between labor of love and vanity project, and this blandly earnest tale straddles it.

Who could have predicted that one day we would long for the relative subtlety of “Twilight”? Richard LaGravenese’s Beautiful Creatures is so outrageously florid, Bella and Edward’s baroque courtship looks understated by comparison.

There are plenty of outrageous characters, several surfing celebrities and a few truly compelling stories.

While Stoller’s script does boast a few solid laughs, everyone involved deserves and can do better.

If a black-metal band ever made a 107-minute music video, this visually striking but otherwise ludicrous epic is probably what it would look like.

Heartfelt but often plodding and awkward, the movie feels like a somewhat subpar Sunday night TV movie.

As it is, while Tunney is undeniably lovely to look at, she's just not that much fun to be around. And for 100 minutes, she's all we've got.

There's nothing about Josh Crook's cop saga that will strike you as new, but he and his talented lead do build an epic feel into this gritty tale of corruption.

The vision of him pretending to be a sullen teen is a distraction the movie never overcomes.

You'll find more authenticity listening in on conversations at your corner diner. But this is a gentler alternative, especially if you prefer your coffee with extra cream and sugar anyway.

Every actor probably dreams of creating his or her ideal role. So kudos to Marvel movie stalwart Clark Gregg (“The Avengers,” TV’s “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”) for actually doing it, as writer, director and star of this indie drama. If only we could extend our congratulations to the project itself.

Like the direction, the script veers all over the place before reaching its inevitable, unsurprising destination.

The best part of this proudly absurd experience is the music.

Jensen tarnishes the lining of every cloud in one wickedly funny scene after another.

The movie plays things relatively straight, acknowledging clichés without the winking irony in which modern homages usually indulge. As such, it's giddy fun - a well-made genre picture that sends up its influences even as it clearly reveres them.

Even Downs, so appealing on Nickelodeon’s “Henry Danger,” can’t fight the forces of this soulless script (which was based on a potentially promising story idea by Wenonah Wilms).

A director as talented as Singer (“The Usual Suspects,” “X-Men”) should be working to raise popcorn movies to a higher level. Instead, this uninspired effort feels like a colossal letdown.

You must really love a movie if you decide to remake it just three years after its release. But unless you also intend to improve upon the first attempt, what's the point?

You won't find a tale more true to our city than the extraordinary history of Pale Male. It's just unfortunate that Frederic Lilien's documentary is as clunky as his subject is graceful.

The many opera scenes are so beautifully mounted, they make up for the moments when the story veers toward melodrama.

On the scale of modern musical adaptations, it's not a disaster of "The Producers" proportions. But it is missing the razzle-dazzle of a success like "Chicago."

If you can look past the annoying quirks, you'll probably have a good time. As Steve says, sometimes, it pays to compromise.

There are times, to be sure, when Herzlinger's antics threaten to swing from cute to cloying. But the few missteps are gently redeemed by an unexpectedly charming finish.

Statham could do these movies in his sleep by now, so he gets credit for offering up so much dry wit. In fact, while Rudakova makes a painful acting debut, Statham appears more engaged than he has in a while.

If Boyd’s perspective is limited, his focus is sharp.

The real miracle here is that the hard-working cast manages to turn McGowan's script into an intermittently touching tale.

The trouble starts with the casting. The usually reliable Kevin Spacey never quite gets a handle on Abramoff, an Orthodox Jew devoted to unorthodox business methods.

There's nothing truly new to be found here, but Kreuzpaintner treats Tobi's confusion with respect and gentle humor, making this an especially sensitive coming-of-age/coming-out story.

Tolan writes regularly for smart shows like "Rescue Me," but his best instincts deserted him when he set his sights on the big screen for the first time.

While their story is feather-light, Khoury and his actors have each type down perfectly. Worth seeing with friends, but you won't want to make a date night out of it.

There's an unexpected appeal to John Gray's modest drama, emanating from its center.

As vanity projects go, this one’s unusually well-made — as any portrait of an iconic stylist ought to be.

Those who arrive without any preconceptions — or are willing to stray from the novel’s style — will appreciate the assets of a modestly engaging and gently touching dramedy.

There's still a lot to like here, but ultimately the movie reflects its hapless hero a little too well. While we're constantly rooting for it to succeed, the finish line seems forever out of reach.

"Grace" may be based on a true story, but barely a moment in it feels real.

Descends with dismaying speed into clichéd Southern melodrama.

A stunner of a movie. But all those gorgeous images never add up to a full picture.

Having carried the mediocre smash “Divergent,” Shailene Woodley now uplifts another underwhelming teen thriller. This one’s as tiny as that one was huge.

The movie can’t help feeling like a vanity affair — a shot of novocaine, instead of a letter bomb.

Half drama, half social tract, Guy Moshe's feature debut is meant to illustrate the horrors of child prostitution in Southeast Asia. The intentions, unfortunately, are more notable than the execution.

The chemistry between the leads is more cozy than sexy, but the biggest issue is Latifah's noticeable - and admirable - discomfort with the rom-com clichés found throughout Michael Elliot's screenplay.

A Disney movie about a Disney project, this slick sailing documentary feels a little too self-promotional, almost like an attraction you might stumble into at Epcot. But at least it turns out to be a fairly wild ride.

The story line is frustratingly haphazard, spreading out in several directions without ever focusing on one.

Stallion" has gorgeous cinematography with spectacular landscapes - plus a lazy script, forgettable performances and regrettably uninspired direction.

Even a weirdo drug comedy needs some clarity. And there’s not much to be found here, either in the muddy visuals, familiar special effects, or pursuit of psychotropic faux-wisdom.

No one’s winning any awards for The Call. But at least the award winners know how to make it worth our while.

The attempt to make this intimate movie more exciting is misguided; we can find plenty of manufactured thrills at the multiplex. What's wrong with a little quiet, old-fashioned charm?

A moving film but not, to be frank, an entirely memorable one.

A good movie that could have been better, Joseph Cedar's sensitive Israeli drama falters when he trades sociological observations for political ones.

Perhaps it’s inevitable that the movie works best not while we’re watching fictional recreations, but when we see real footage or hear actual broadcasts.

In performance, Earle comes across as a successor to Woody Guthrie or Johnny Cash. In this fawning portrait, however, he seems more like music's Michael Moore.

Though the cast is energetic and the intrigues diverting, you'll have to distance yourself from reality to enjoy so much outlandish scheming.