Gregory Weinkauf

The striking graininess of the film stock, the near-documentary style of the setups, and Michael Nyman's attentive score add up to a relatable and ultimately hopeful experience.

This astonishingly gritty film maintains its strong niche between Roberto Rossellini's "Open City" and Paul Greengrass' "Bloody Sunday" as a pinnacle of war-torn neo-realist drama.

Coppola and Murch have balanced their new edit with grace notes of sweetness, elegance and eroticism, and the payoff is grand, providing both a reprieve from the multiple blitzkriegs and a break in the monotony of the cruise up the Nung.

This film is a miracle, an extravaganza equal to its predecessors and in some ways more stunning. It is a profound testament to the extraordinary power of moving images and sound.

We're told that this new version is tweaked and enhanced, with the E.T. puppet digitally smoothed out, and the guns in the meanies' hands removed (silly, but bravo). [2002 re-release]

The film succeeds as massive, astonishing entertainment; verily, enthralling us is its chief goal.

An animated extravaganza of Gallic wit and soul that delivers more wild humanity than many of the year's live-action features. In a word: go.

What we have here is an historical document of inestimable value, describing in no uncertain terms the terrible and beautiful times before AIDS.

Despite the presence of several sublimely cracked actors and some of the most abrasive white-trash caricatures since "Raising Arizona," Birch totally owns this movie.

Meandering but reasonably charming.

Amazingly, almost every note of every performance in Bloody Sunday rings true.

A masterful film about the magic of performance and the foibles of the artists behind it.

Smart people will relish its temerariousness, average people will smile awkwardly and comment that it's "kinda different," and dimly lit people may mistake it for the Elmo movie and drool quietly in the back rows. It's a movie for everyone.

A pensive, reflective movie, more or less equal in tone to Ang Lee's "The Ice Storm," yet, because of its temporal breadth and tight emotional focus, it packs a more intimate punch.

This is the breakout role for Sigourney Weaver, whose iconic presence still propels this ride beyond the scores of substandard imitations that followed. Why see it on the big screen? Because it's bloody brilliant.

The confusing, demanding role finally brings the actor home, and us with him.

Gleefully blurs the line between species. Vive la révolution!

In this bolder, longer new cut, characters are allowed to finish scenes previously left as DVD extras, effects are creepier, and the theories of "the Tangent Universe" are explored in greater depth. Friends and neighbors, this is a Great American Movie.

The year's greatest adventure, and Jackson's limited but enthusiastic adaptation has made literature literal without killing its soul.

One of the finest qualities of Amadeus is that it reminds us of those rare occasions when an Oscar sweep is actually merited.

While this road may contain too many potholes -- and plotholes -- to sustain an even ride, there are moments of greatness scattered throughout to remind us why Lynch is vital and why the French think he's so nifty.

While much of the film is as scattershot as life itself, there are a few superb sequences involving lucid dreaming that really get down to business.

Hero keeps its characters stiffly archetypal, like chess pieces sent whizzing through outrageous maneuvers. Unfortunately, this apparent choice of spectacle over intimacy put me at a slight remove.

Sometimes the cinema is just heavenly, and this is one of those times.

An inspiring effort, lavishly lensed and featuring a spicy (if occasionally synthy) score from A.R. Rahman. Best of all, it's also something of a musical, as the characters are not above breaking into song and dance to serve their emotions.

Revelatory and disappointing.

Feels mostly like an audacious prank.

Not a great film, but a good one.

A nifty little war movie that defies convenient categorization.

A big gob of fun.

One of this year's best films--a classic, even, like a C.S. Forester "Hornblower" story on steroids.

Pustules, puberty and pregnancy...seven stories tall! Mostly grand but occasionally grody

The extra-short length is puzzling -- about half an hour has been lopped off the length of the original Canadian release -- but what remains feels whole and wholly satisfying, a rare, successful merging of the obvious and the haunting.

Powerful, sensuous and thematically hokey transsexual adventure.

It's a noble work, an elegant work, a compassionate work -- and a somewhat tedious and glaringly self-important work.

Despite its lively tone and brisk editing, the project's sad epilogue -- shot two years later -- suggests that Abraham and Mohammed will be duking it out on the world's dime for some time to come.

Once in a while a film comes along that is as sound, smart, sweet and significant as can be, and Whale Rider is such a film.

His (Pawlikowski) love story, which is by turns sensuous, charming, and uniquely moving.

A beautiful and timeless achievement, Conrad Rooks' 1972 adaptation of Herman Hesse's appropriation of East Indian mythology still entrances.

The design is gorgeous, the dialogue delicious, and even the supporting characters prove resonant.

Deftly delivered and free of gratuitous gloss, yet enormously rich in its unassuming manner.

If Junge's first-hand recollections aren't always visually stimulating, they're still more illuminating than most cinematic re-creations of the era.

As a document of rockin, youth rebellion, the film lodges perfectly between "American Graffiti" and "Trainspotting."

While you think you're watching just another in a series of British gangster films, you may suddenly realize that you're watching what is, thus far, the year's best horror movie.

Without question, Shadow of the Vampire is a stately and elegant horror film, interwoven with delicious strands of black comedy.

It's best appraised as a strong ensemble piece, a darkly dreamy slab of social commentary and definitely one of the year's best films.

While the movie is frequently sharp and funny and weirdly relatable, the material feels too much like reality.

A piquant entertainment and zeitgeist reflector designed to embolden little thrashettes.

[Coppola] understands the crisp, oblique horror and wistfulness of Eugenides' narrative, plunking down five enchanting princesses into an environment that is anything but magical.

What's most impressive about this is that, if one didn't know better, the naturalism of the performances could be taken for that of a documentary.

Brian's brilliant, saved itself by benefactor George Harrison, who ponied up the budget of 2 million pounds...simply because he loved the script when industry bigwigs turned characteristically chicken. Its overall irreverence proves a lasting balm for the ages. Thank you, Pythons, for setting such a high and enduring standard.

The miracle here is not so much that Pray captures the DJs in peak form, but that he comprehensively captures SO MANY of them.

Manages to be both astoundingly derivative and reasonably entertaining at the same time.

This roaring crowd-pleaser also boasts hilarious bits of business, insightful observations into the human condition, and geysers of kitschy computer-generated blood.

Very charming and funny movie.

Provides a smart, insightful prologue to the career of the man who continues to inspire countless people around the world.

This is a powerhouse of a film, but not for the obvious reasons that it's about a female serial killer, scampering lesbians and whatever. The project's strength instead emerges from a sense of nobility and purpose in honoring its characters.

Finally, the man (Hanks) has delivered a moving, slightly unhappy, and ultimately hopeful story in which squishy love takes a backseat to the wondrous whirlwind of life. The season's most delightful surprise.

What makes this movie special is the meticulous attention placed on each of its characters, employing them not in the traditional "melting pot" manner that is so common, but as part of a grand mosaic that actually seems to be worth sharing.

Philosophy imbues this inescapably self-reflexive movie with a rare compassion.

In the realm of B-movies about messing with nature, it's as enjoyable as "Frankenstein Unbound," and unlike, say, "A.I." it's intentionally creepy. It's also occasionally masterful.

Not to be missed.

This sensuous, exotic film is more like an issue of "National Geographic" come to life, rich with cultural detail and insight.

The effects are smashing, yet there's a heart behind them.

The nuances of the performances -- in dialogue and dance -- and the rich, organic feel of the locations mark Amari as a director of significant promise.

What's wonderful about director Claude Miller's adaptation of Ruth Rendell's novel "The Tree of Hands" is its grand capacity for compassion and complexity.

It's excessively quirky and a little underconfident in its delivery, but otherwise this is the best "old neighborhood" project since Christopher Walken kinda romanced Cyndi Lauper in "The Opportunists."

Despite moments of gritty greatness that rival Scorsese's best, the movie is severely hampered by please-everyone syndrome, especially in the editing and choice of music.

The movie's diplomatic breadth compromises its thematic depth -- it basically repeats that fun conquers all -- but few movies will so generously rawk a crowd this year.

Arteta targets Middle American ennui with wit, compassion and no shortage of ornery malaise.

If you're after some family-friendly classic lit at the multiplex, here 'tis.

Brando wanders through the movie as if he's tolerating an annoying guest, sweetly charming one minute, detached and obnoxious the next.

This may sound an eensy bit hyperbolic, but dig: Mayor of the Sunset Strip is the greatest rock-and-roll movie of all time.

Since the narrative's destination is awkwardly obvious, and the tone occasionally melts into a sticky-sweet mess like cotton candy in the sun, the movie is most often saved by its generous helpings of clever dialogue.

What could have become a heinous TV movie instead delivers the moving and relatable experience of being an emotionally overburdened person stuck in a world that mostly sucks.

Writer-director-actor Cedric Klapisch simultaneously shows great moviemaking flair and reveals a very peculiar worldview.

Not only is Undercover Brother the funniest spy-thriller since "The Nude Bomb" (oh, behave), it feels like the proper sequel to "The Blues Brothers," crossing all kinds of lines between cartoonish buffoonery and genuine compassion for its characters.

In this, Lee's most ambitious and successful work yet, his celebrated gift for psychological shading and complexity is on proud display.

Well redeemed by its dank atmosphere and cracker-barrel performances.

The resulting piece resonates upon the American condition, deliciously detailing the whimsy, violence, intolerance, and shallow fantasies that fuel this nation. Oh yeah, and it's funny.

A grand, old-fashioned epic, this project is every bit as important as "Gladiator" or a new "Star Wars" episode.

This is a sensitive, thinking person's movie with a lot on its mind.

Guaranteed to jolt viewers of a Norman Rockwell mentality well into the 21st century.

Technically, the movie occasionally rises to become awe-inspiring, and while sometimes you can smell the acting (especially from Matthes), the performances are often soulful.

A diverting mix of insight and spectacle, human and superhuman. This machine is built for kids, but rarely do words like "noble," "Hollywood" and "rawkin'" all apply to one movie.

This infusion of warrior philosophy is the gas in Ghost Dog's tank, and Jarmusch pumps it up for maximum octane throughout.

Nolte’s charisma transforms Neil Jordan's The Good Thief from a vague, mildly exotic, character-driven caper flick to a soulful and engaging misadventure.

This project is not the last word on Fellini, nor does it replace the director's bizarre self-portraits in Intervista or the TV special A Director's Notebook. It even irritates a bit, as none of the speakers is identified until the end.

This would be 10 times the movie if it featured an actual debate between Moore and Bush. Nonetheless, the man makes a remarkably strong case, tastefully inserting himself into the Bush-baiting only when necessary--one such stroke of brilliance involves personally urging congressmen to send their own kids to Iraq.

Those seeking a spiritual counterpart to the yin of Lynne Ramsay's masterfully moody "Morvern Callar" will find their yang in David Mackenzie's exquisitely sorrowful Young Adam.

We have a whole new reason to appreciate cinema's most creative chameleon (Depp) since Peter Sellers. The film itself is pretty and sweet but a tad soggy.

Fight Club is to intelligent men what Catherine Breillat's "Romance" is to intelligent women -- an insult.

Braugher does much to hold this show together, because without him, the reality gets muddled. He's a terrific balancing agent for both Caviezel and Quaid; kudos to casting.

Overall it's reasonably thrilling anyway. If you're hoping for a brilliant revisionist take on the franchise, forget it.

The story sustains a strong, hypnotic appeal well deserving of its many awards.

Bellyflops into the increasingly complicated American high school experience with a healthy reservoir of wit.

The overall effect is scintillating and very engaging -- literally history in the making.

Bright, lively and liberating movie.