Elizabeth Weitzman

The film rests, though, on the sturdy shoulders of Chastain and McAvoy. They don’t share the intense chemistry this couple really needs, but they commit to the individual stories with touching persuasion.

As for the ever-impressive supporting cast, neither a delightfully befuddled Jim Broadbent nor a wild-eyed Helena Bonham Carter can upstage Alan Rickman, who again proves invaluable as the slithery Prof. Snape.

We already know Kristen Wiig can act. So the real revelation in The Skeleton Twins is Bill Hader, who turns in a performance so overflowing with poignancy that he deserves to be considered on any early awards list.

This little gem is best saved for those -- both young and old -- who prefer to find surprises under the tree.

Trier's voice and vision, are thrillingly unique. His ever-searching camera, which never stops moving, takes us into places we've never been, know too well and won't soon forget.

In Linden's assured hands, each character gets just enough time to contribute to the greater whole. They're all recognizable, not as clichés or stereotypes but as realistic individuals.

It's guilt that gives life, shape and depth to this uncommonly perceptive film.

Fans will want to replay the extensive archival footage over and over. Newcomers are more likely to pause halfway through, search out the superlative soundtrack, and immerse themselves in the music that inspired this rare, fall-and-rise story in the first place.

Meticulous staging and Piccoli's world-weary presence balance any silliness, making the issues here feel relevant and real. The method is not pointed political satire but gentle enlightenment.

The perfect answer to cries of "I'm bored," Marshall Curry's outstanding documentary won't just entertain your family for a little while. It'll also inspire everyone to get back outside, and find a new passion.

The movie loses its way toward the end, shifting from wry black comedy to slightly overdone pathos. But there's plenty here to appreciate, making the title perfectly apt.

We’re not in Disney’s world. Berger knows his Grimm, and he suffuses his entrancing fairy tale with a moving sense of melancholy.

For starters, it's a pleasure to see Matthew McConaughey - a gifted actor who can't hide his boredom in trivial work - finally settle into the role for which he was born.

This seemingly ordinary biographical documentary about the retiring animation master unfolds, at a deceptively gentle pace, into a work of immense beauty.

Definitely worth a chance: although everyone in this fog-shrouded setting makes grand sacrifices, all you'll lose are a few tears.

David France's survey of AIDS advocacy should be invaluable to every frustrated movement, as both a road map and a reminder of how vital personal activism remains.

Mikkelsen's unconventional features and intense talent lend a compelling edge to this expansive period piece.

Anyone who doubts that a single individual can make a political impact should see Anders Østergaard’s gripping documentary.

In an era of anti-immigrant fervor, this sobering and much-needed look at Latino migration is built on an undeniably optimistic premise: that once Americans have accurate facts, "they rarely allow injustices to stand."

This would be tricky territory for the most experienced director, but I can't remember the last time I saw organized religion handled in such an even-handed, thoughtful manner.

It's miles away from big-budget, pop-culture entertainment, but you may be surprised by its impact.

Kechiche takes his time, allowing us to know the characters as if we live next door. But be warned: for those who come to feel like a member of the family, the unexpected end may seem strikingly unfair.

There is so much to admire in Joshua Marston's The Forgiveness of Blood that it's easy to overlook the miracle at its center: Marston's artistic idealism.

If Ayer had taken as much care with his bad guys as he does with his leads (and their deftly sketched wives and colleagues, played by Anna Kendrick, America Ferrera and Frank Grillo, among others), he might have crafted a seamless picture.

So is he a martyred patriot or a misguided traitor? And is it possible he’s both? Poitras comes down firmly on one side, and she makes a strong case. But the movie would have been stronger still if she’d acknowledged the alternative view.

This is certainly an apt time to make a crowd-pleasing movie about rich villains, but Greenfield is not an exploiter - she's an artist.

A vital one for movie fans.

As smart as it is side-splittingly silly.