F. X. Feeney

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.