Joe Neumaier

It's strange to call a film with so much nudity and simulated sex "old-fashioned," but The Sessions nicely bridges that gulf.

There are big special effects, of course, but refreshingly, this third (and final?) movie in the franchise is like a pleasant stroll through familiar halls.

Without giving anything away, much of the excruciatingly teased-out tension here echoes the first movie without upping the ante.

Kekilli sensitively portrays Umay's conflicted despair, and the relationship with her son is beautifully rendered.

Almodovar makes some missteps in his icky mélange of melodrama and mischief, but the end result is playfully devious.

Martin starts at the outrageous accent and spins out from there, and that's fine for this. And there are a few snicker-worthy scenes.

To use carnival lingo: Thrilling? Not quite; since Levi's film has no clear goal for Stan to reach. Spectacular? Truth be told, those skeptical of Stan's abilities may still walk out as nonbelievers. Fascinating? Absolutely, because if you take time to listen, everyone's life is a three-ring circus.

This rather elegant movie, like a bold new 'do, is both not what you'd expect and exactly what you feared.

Filmed — patiently, beautifully — over that same length of time, the film’s day-to-day aches are quiet and lovingly rendered.

Eisenberg - seemingly in every other movie nowadays - gives his best performance since 2005's "The Squid and the Whale" in a film that dramatizes a fascinating New York story.

Director Jon S. Baird lets Welsh’s language fill up the room, even when it’s a wee bit hard to fathom.

The cast is uniformly appealing in out-of-left-field ways, but writer-director Brooks Branch lets the story amble lazily, which -- like Gabriel and almost every character like him you've ever seen -- gets a little tiring.

This thought-provoking but overlong doc wins points for being all-inclusive.

While Lucky Them may not be a classic, the actors at least find a cool groove.

Best of all, we take a trip back to Depression-era New York and grasp its resonance more than 80 years later. Delicious.

Every performer is tough and charismatic, especially Honglei Sun, who, as Jamukha, gives so many neck-cracks, guttural howls and conspiratorial smiles he's like a Chinese Marlon Brando.

Harrelson though, is in every scene, and seeing him burn up Rampart is positively arresting.

“Natural” perfectly describes Nolte’s performance, too. With his growly voice and bear-like aura, he might be dismissed as a walking sight gag, but don’t let that fool you. Nolte’s way with a joke is nimble, and his delivery is spot-on.

Despite the ominous feel, this is a mystery about losing or gaining lives and unknown detours.

Hey, Michael: It's the robots, stupid. Despite all the mechanical mayhem, none of the Transformers stand out.

Kline, who has done a lot of chewy character roles after several stage ­triumphs, is as sly and leonine as ever. His performance here obliterates that phony accent he used in "French Kiss."

This exquisitely acted, genuinely creepy minimalist drama does spin its wheels a bit before a cool conclusion. But the movie has a spark of creativity not seen in “Chappie” or “Eva,” two of the recent robots-among-us flicks.

If one performance could tilt a movie the direction it needs to go, John C. Reilly's expertly left-of-center turn in Terri is it.

It’s never laugh-out-loud funny or inside-track smart, but in a summer full of bombastic failures, a lack of pretense is enough.

Like a dime-store holiday card, this Christmas Carol is well-crafted but artless, detailed but lacking soul.

Despite some tough-to-take moments, this challenging, smart movie is worth the trip.

Grace, especially, gives a turn that could be a twerpy cousin to Tom Cruise's character in "Magnolia"; Fischer's dead-eyed responses to this Mensa-member/player who think he's book jacket-hot are priceless.

No one conveys late-life elegy and cool intellectual cunning like Langella.