F. X. Feeney

Writer-director Carl Colpaert never loses his balance, despite the David Lynchian leap of faith he asks us to make midway, in a twist so bold as to be a backflip. If anything, this extra layer in the story effectively illuminates the moral choices Jesus must navigate.

Khouri manages, with terrific flair, to keep the extremes of screwball farce and blood-curdling family intensity on one continuum -- not only through the strength of the performances (including one from James Garner, who, as Sida's dad, gets the best one-liners) but in the ways they match across time.

We never seem to be looking at actors, but at people; never at scenes, but at life unrehearsed.

Writer-director Hernandez is comfortable with violent, perverse emotions, and can find humor in them -- a refreshing quality that keeps one watching long after her movie has jumped its own tracks and zoomed to a private world of obscurely motivated quarrels and uninvolving reconciliations.

Impeccably produced.

These bantering would-be heroes mostly live at the tops of their voices.

Remains the most popularly successful film ever to render the inner life of an artist.

Goei's sharp-eyed satiric sense evokes the diversity and energy of Singapore, and his good-humored nostalgia makes disco rise from the dead.

A sharp, upbeat, well-wrought meditation on love and race that kicks the new year in movies off to a terrific start.

As powerfully as the film lingers in the mind, one can't help wishing he were led just a bit more by his heart.

A superb, instructive portrait of an artist at work.

(Herzog's) tribute to Kinski doubles as a life-affirming monument to creation in all its variety.

A near miss overall, but enjoyable in its littler particulars.

There are ticklish moments, but no real laughs.

Though the film overall is as disposable as a hot dog, it is just as enjoyable.

A smart, romantic, heartbreaking pleasure.

Although the dialogue initially flakes with awkward exposition, writer Ruth Epstein and director Harvey Kahn have fashioned a riveting thriller full of good scares and learned, muckraking insight into the global labyrinth of oil and politics.

Excellent performances.

Has power not only as film scholarship, but as an inquiry into cinema's interplay with our collective memories and the nature of history itself.

The film works, cleanly, without any tiresome reliance on computer graphics.

By the last third, one is sick to death of seeing people tortured, no real catharsis is offered, and stupid is how one feels.

The Wayanses can be crude beyond crude, but they're so clever that their inventiveness takes the place of taste.

Bergman's collaboration with Ullmann began when he directed her in "Persona" (1966). Here, with the roles nearly reversed, she shows herself as great an interpreter behind the camera.

What makes Sunshine unique, what rewards a first viewing and lives in the mind long thereafter, is that Szabo has attempted to place Judaism and Christianity on a continuum that is both historically truthful and highly personal.

A witty, well-crafted comedy that combines primal slapstick with sharp satiric banter to keep children and parents laughing together.

A delirious fable about every creature's need for espace.

The humor stays on one low level throughout, and thus fades fast.

Moll ratchets his suspense with impressive mastery, wringing a maximum of excruciating terror out of the humblest everyday materials.

The Marat/Sade irony of setting these scenes in a madhouse helps, but Macfadyen's volcanic magnetism and spot-on mimicry of Hitler's body language and speech patterns make insight flesh.

It's a sweet chamber piece, beautifully played.

A refreshing breakaway from both idolatry and cynicism.

They make a believable trio of siblings, but not even their combined wit can lift this script above the maudlin.

We're afforded the illusion of an omniscience so complete as to mark a pioneering breakthrough in movie storytelling, one not to be missed.

Some of the performances are remarkably natural amid so much farce.

One's laughter builds on such a rising curve that memories of its flaws burn away.

It is one of the most beautifully staged American movies in a very long time.

Penn's own gifts as an actor seem, in turn, to bring out the best in Nicholson, as well as the rest of the cast.

Here is a ghost story so dynamic you could call it a ghost poem.

It's an exhilarating display of filmic artistry.

It is worthy of comparison to the lifelike, character-rich films we cherish from that era (1970s), and is certainly one of the finest films to come out this year.

Breakdown recalls so many good movies, in such unpredictable order, that by the end it simply stands on its own, a solid, logical, edge-of-the-seat sluiceway of escape and pursuit.

The story sinks, along with any deeper laughs, under boringly formulaic motivations and plot twists.

As with "The Blair Witch Project," one must swallow one's irritation at paying yet again for big-screen video -- but even so, the spectacle of an America falling apart is acutely and hilariously embodied by Dawn.

First-time director Baltasar Kormakur -- balances tones with a smooth, mature confidence.

The romance and sheer fun that Where the Money Is packs into its swift 89 minutes follow from the sweet surprise that neither is threatened by the other.

Not only one of the best films of the year, it's one of the best films of the decade.

Economy be damned, lack of originality is the silent killer.

eXistenZ gives us Cronenberg at his wittiest, and Leigh at her most vulnerable and fascinating.

Mike Myers wrote the abominable script, plays both leads and is miscast in each.

A film whose story movingly outfoxes any number of shopworn expectations on its way to a singular, heart-rending outcome.

Lurie manages, despite these obstacles, to inspire Redford to give one of the most layered and interesting performances of his career.

Celebrity is one of Woody Allen’s finest. This is a minority opinion….But I prefer Allen when he works in a minor key – “Broadway Danny Rose,” “Radio Days” --precisely because he’s not trying to be profound, only true to firsthand observation.

If only the rest of the movie were as good as its cast.

Director Alan Rudolph kills this promising film off with a combination of bad writing and wrong-headed direction.

At its best, there's a strong (albeit live-action) echo of Charles M. Schulz's "Peanuts" in Little Manhattan. The movie's hero, Gabe, is a world-weary 10-year-old who addresses us in eloquent voice-overs. Like Charlie Brown, he's in love with a red-headed beauty.

Byrne is a stand-up poet the way some actors are stand-up comics. His innate depth prompts The Usual Suspects to transcend its own cleverness--and this is the movie's smartest, least predictable surprise.

What is surprising, and what one takes away most deeply and happily from Triumph of Love, is a refreshed admiration for Mira Sorvino.

Overall, King of the Jungle never quite achieves a necessary, culminating insight about charity, or mercy -- though Leguizamo's performance puts one in reach.

Nearly three and a half hours in length, but owing to its freedom of movement, the film feels weightless.

A smoothly structured, earth-toned and well-drawn Japanese anime.

Silver, manages the deft balance of making Seagal seem both genuinely courageous and charmingly blockheaded.