F. X. Feeney

The Japanese title means chaos, and that is what is let loose when a powerful king foolishly tries to release the reins of power, in the hopes of enjoying a peaceful old age.

Astonishingly deep and moving.

Lyrical and funny, Full Grown Men is a tough-minded film about the need to grow up.

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.

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

It's a cheerfully deranged stunt, executed in a spirit of infectious lunacy that powers the resulting film to its strongest laughs, and weirdest depths.

Catches the volatile beauty of what it was to be alive and politically aware in the early '70s with a rare accuracy and depth.

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

No parent who's been roped into leading the troops to a matinee need fear being bored: gags are, Simpsons-like, conceived to tickle several generations at once.

It's a film which aims to persuade us of its truth without props or signposts--and it does so with unforgettable beauty.

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

One of the best films of the year thus far.

It works its magic with such exuberance and passion that the film's length becomes a part of its fun.

It's a disturbing film in the best sense.

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

A smirky black comedy that, like its John Lurie score, is jazzy, dry, and light on its feet.

Leonard Schrader adapted the screenplay from the novel by Manuel Puig, and his fearless willingness to explore every corner of human nature serves what is greatest and sweetest in the performances of William Hurt and Raul Julia.

It's an exhilarating display of filmic artistry.

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

Of the many excellent animated features Disney has produced over the past decade, this is the one that feels the freest, and sweetest.

It's fitting, then, that Dinner Rush boasts Hawks-ian virtues: fiery energy, swift, character-driven chitchat and a tough, upbeat sense of how the world works.

Dizdar maintains a knife-edged balance in tone throughout the film

We may not fully grasp what Nora saw in Joyce, but what he saw in her is made unmistakable, and worth seeing.

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.

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

Writer-director Hans Petter Moland (The Last Lieutenant, Zero Kelvin) has a fine eye for landscapes, but an even surer touch with actors.

Writer-director Kasi Lemmons works fast, and the world she conjures is powerfully realized.

Part poem, part jungle blossom, all brilliance.