Joe Neumaier

It takes a really bad stupid comedy to make you appreciate well-done stupid comedies. And boy is Miss March a stupid comedy.

There are times when a Kilmer performance is like watching a clock move: well-timed and oddly compelling, even though it's totally predictable. That's the case with Felon, which doesn't belong to Kilmer but which he steals anyhow.

This sock-it-to-'em souffle falls very quickly, unless watching Travolta trying on another faux-hip look is considered fun.

One we wish we hadn't seen

Fanning's watcher is watchable, yet the kid-actress extraordinaire is so polished it kind of makes your head explode.

See, everyone complains about humans in movies but no one does anything about it, so it fell to Eagle Eye to make everything laughably, ridiculously fake.

A romantic comedy that feels like real life.

His humor works best when it's throw-away, but "Zohan" throws everything up to get a yuck. It's a shock to see how many "yuck!" moments Sandler settles for.

At 67, maestro Argento's taste still runs toward bloody entrails and eye-gougings, but Asia's sexy sour-lemon smile is underused in his movies.

Despite the Spierig brothers' punchy visual style and satiric tone, Daybreakers eventually devolves, though Dafoe and his Southern drawl goose things up and Hawke has a greasy romanticism.

Here's a rough-and-tumble British drama that, despite a strong spine, ought to be more like its title character: quiet and deadly -- and less showy.

This domestic drama from the producers of "Once" could be about the pair from that gentle romance - a decade later.

The problem with Russell Crowe's new take on the legend is that it has one muddy boot in history and the other in fantasy. The middling result is far from a bull's-eye.

This slimy, slug-minded mystery thriller starts out dead on arrival and then, like three-day-old fish, gets really bad really fast.

May feel especially like a statue covered in drapery. Unfortunately, the movie's attempts to steam things up feel about as exciting as an after-dinner mint.

Of the supporting performances, Gugino, Leguizamo and Wahlberg offer solid turns, but are let down by dialogue.

The result is the first comic-book movie in a while that actually feels like a classic comic book: fast, furious and flip. Forget about superheroes with love problems and tortured souls.

Movie references abound, but there's not enough humor to fuel even 90 minutes.

Most of the movie unfolds in such a dull manner.

Unfortunately, the whole movie seems constructed just to get the singer/actress into a knock-down catfight, shoehorning one of show business's sexiest entertainers into a scorned-woman role. And even then, the pay-off feels cheap.

Another nicely understated performance from Jesse Eisenberg anchors this shambling drama.

In Rob Corddry's hilariously manic turn, it has the most memorable showcase for a goofball co-star since Michael Keaton in 1981's "Night Shift."

Part of the problem with "P&F" is that Tiana and Naveen's connection feels superficial.

A snapshot of several New York eras that coincide with the Internet's growing pains, We Live in Public focuses on entrepreneur, party-thrower and dot.com bubble participant Josh Harris.

Ferrera's shaggy tone, which fits the iconic building, gets irritating. Still, if you come for the stories, you'll stay for the company.

Has TOO much happening, which befits a comedy with a lot of targets but ultimately makes the whole operation scattershot.

Dignity dies a million deaths despite the best intentions.

The self-conscious poetry and Cruz's diagnosis of bipolar disorder threaten to add too many notes to this quiet drama.

Peter Jackson siphoned out all the soulfulness that made the author's combination thriller/afterlife fantasy a best-seller. In its place is a gumball-colored potboiler that's more squalid than truly mournful.

A movie needs to announce if it's playing games. Pulling the rug out from under a viewer is fine for whodunnits and psychological thrillers and the usual suspects. But a supposedly grown-up drama like The Other Man ought to have scruples about where it plans to take you.

When the haze wears off and the movie grounds itself in reality, it's a bummer. Until then, though, what's weird here is gloriously weird.

Willing as Campbell is to Shatner-ize himself, his movie will appeal only to true believers.

Jamie Bell gives a watchable performance in this self-conscious, coming-of-age drama, though the film's overall effect is best described as David Lynch lite.

Some of the talk gets a little bombastic, but it's hard to deny the thrill involved.

Another preachy, overacted message film that owes its out-of-time structure to "21 Grams" and "Babel," except writer-director Charles Oliver uses the idea of restorative justice.

The long shadow of David Fincher's "Seven" falls on Anamorph, a moody, ultimately unexciting thriller.

Marries an unengaging love triangle to a flat visual style, nearly squashing the one good thing in it -- a scruffy, slouching performance from Peter Sarsgaard.

Watch Mulligan's face as she goes from weary to awakened, and see it all come together.

The Losers is simply a lot of low blows, telegraphed each and every time.

In a certain kind of indie movie, the only thing sweeter than a bad boy transformed is slow, sad tragedy. Mercy has both, which isn't good.

Frozen is good for five minutes of "What would you do if?" games. Then it's just stiff as a board.

In a pleasing contrast to Fey's sharpness, Poehler keeps her performance unpredictable and fuzzy. In this just-add-water comedy, a very funny movie star is born.

Director John Polson's elliptical storytelling style quickly becomes an irritant.

Nachmanoff fills the movie with a sense of gripping, '70s-style grittiness that helps undercut the web-of-evil tone.

Only natural spitfire Spacek, as the pickup-driving mom of the land, feels fresh. There's even a mouthy kid Garity is "taking care of" - guess whose son he is?

Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa is better known for horror films; this is a movie where the horror is internalized, and hideously truthful.

At its best, this beautiful, off-the-cuff comedy-drama recalls John Cassavetes' shaggiest, most honest work.

Michael Douglas in Solitary Man, has all the tools of the man who plays him at his disposal. At times in this often engaging, occasionally meandering movie, that's enough to score.

Entertaining, smart and snappy, this terrific doc, a Sundance favorite, digs into the country's use of steroids and how it affects sports, pop culture and the self-image of young men.

The title of The Misfortunates ­really applies to any audiences unlucky enough to sit through it.

Sports biodramas generally take one of two tacks: gauzily sentimental or scrappy tale of struggle. The Express runs the thin line between the two and, to its benefit, more often than not hits the first mark.

The action-comedy Zombieland works because it's played with an emphasis on the living, not the undead.

This unfunny, unoriginal, charmless teen comedy is so stunningly awful from start to finish, it's amazing to think its director has made a single film before, much less a dozen.

The Tracey Fragments is a grating stunt that plays like a film-school project, cutting a bland story into a million tiny irritating pieces.

Velvety storytelling still feels more thawed-out than heated.

While it stops before sliding too far into the darkness,Observe and Report hits a lot of bull's-eyes by aiming for the gut, not easy belly laugh.

Though this well-observed, wry drama is determined to be quirky, its most endearing quality, like that of its heroines, is a willingness to wallow in foul moods and come out the other side.

Something of a traffic jam--even with his usual restraint, Lee couldn't recount a key moment of the '60s without a blurry parade of personalities--and also lullingly dull.

For the first time since "The Nutty Professor," Eddie Murphy successfully mixes his adult and kid-film personas -- imagine that.

The connection they share is clear; the reason we're invited to sit in is foggy at best.

Sturgess is solid and Kingsley predictably sneaky, but the atmosphere -- scurries through the Catholic/Protestant border, tense stand-offs, spontaneous riots -- is what's genuinely gripping.

The film treats kids' inner lives as more than a fantasy, which is a rare and beautiful thing.

It's also suffocatingly stagy, especially when the husband's new love (Kristen Bell) and a violent thief (Justin Long) show up.

Writer-director Ruba Nadda's film is ultimately like a summertime flirtation that never quite comes to anything.

If Marmaduke achieves anything, it's that it makes this past spring's "Furry Vengeance" look like a masterpiece by comparison.

Director Samuel Maoz's gripping you-are-there feel does for tanks what "Das Boot" did for submarines, and that chokehold only gets tighter as this taut drama about the 1982 Israeli-Lebanese war goes on.

This National Geographic production mixes two amazing adventures, neither of them quite what you expect.

This year-in-the-life comedy will appeal mostly to its target audience -- the boys of middle school, USA -- and frankly, that's all it needs. Who else would appreciate the idiocy of social pressure,

The film's major action sequences are never exciting, and even the now-requisite destruction of New York feels lazy.

Perfect for families and exquisitely shot, this entry from the Disneynature division is even better and fresher than last year's "Earth."

History has made his midair stroll meaningful, but the film shows how even then, everyone - from Petit to his accomplices to the cops who were waiting for him atop the North Tower - recognized the stunt's crazy poetry.

The new Star Trek is more than a coat of paint on a space-age wagon train. It's an exciting, stellar-yet-earthy blast that successfully blends the hip and the classic.

Director Megumi Sasaki's film feels like a cozy visit with neighbors whose insights are priceless.

Von Trier ("Breaking the Waves," "Dogville") has no barriers, which absolutely can be a good thing. Here, though, his uninhibited nature is an omen of the pretentious butchery to come.

If Hitchcock had done a coming-of-age drama, it might have resembled this haunting, nervous, sad movie about an early twentysomething.

Orphan doesn't add much to the genre except, disturbingly, a fetishistic bent that's creepy in the wrong way.

For all the trickiness and bluster, Shutter Island is dead inside.

Early scenes set up the tragedy, but the majority of Oliver Hirschbiegel's movie is set in a TV studio where the two eventually face each other, and the tension, unfortunately, quickly becomes stagey.

Director Scott Teems' film is as quiet as untilled soil -- not always a good thing -- but Holbrook has a handle on where to dig.

There are suggestions to help us sleep more easily, but the point is to wake us up.

Hawke - continuing an evolution toward stronger, more intense acting than anyone might've predicted from him 20 years ago - drives the movie. He makes Sal a jangled, edgy presence, his conscience torn several ways.

Even after experiencing the film, what they've gone through - and how they deal with it - deliberately remains a mystery.

Adventureland has the structure of a Tilt-a-Whirl ride: It goes where you expect, and may fill you with dread.

The end result is like Quentin Tarantino reworking a Charles Bukowski story.

Problem is, this movie is all surface - to quote one character, it has hidden shallows.

This is one of those films in which almost every element is done in such an embarrassingly amateurish way, you want to put it out of its misery.

The movie's lack of Michael Moore-style dynamism has a dulling effect. What saves it is the human face it puts on the crisis, and its indictment of corporate greed.

It's not a lightning show, but "Flash" still shines.

As a whole, Sam Mendes' film of Revolutionary Road comes close but falls short of capturing Richard Yates' terrific novel.

Gyllenhaal is charming and makes unexpected choices in her performance, but this is Bridges' show, and he's as Best Actor-worthy as he's ever been.

Flow makes you thirsty for more information.

Like the last gift buried under singing Billy Bass fish, dancing Coke cans, joke books and mounds of wrapping paper, there's a glimmer of fun in Four Christmases that almost gets vacuumed up with the tinsel.

There's a way to do this kind of thing (Just witness Hasbro's other toy-turned-dumb movie franchise, "Transformers"). G.I. Joe, though, hasn't got a kung fu-grip on what it is.

Informative and flavorful, though lacking in surprise.

Their mundane meetings underscore how easily secrets are leaked, but unfortunately, scenes of meetings between Presidents Reagan (Fred Ward) and Mitterrand seem hollow and naive. Kusturica and Canet are strong, though, as is Willem Dafoe as an American intel officer.

The Last Exorcism trods on previously stomped ground and has almost no good jump-outta-your-seat moments.

Roth and Hurt glower semi-engagingly, and while Norton's scrawniness works, he seems intellectually disengaged, despite his helping to craft Zak Penn's script.

Yet it all comes down to one simplistic idea, and the result feels like a one-film evangelical movement.

The film isn't easy to watch, but its portrait of perseverance and ecological commitment is enlightening.

The scope of director Peter Chan's military drama is impressive, though this sometimes-rousing depiction of strategy and loyalty in mid-1800s China pales next to recent, similar historical epics like "Red Cliff" and "Mongol."

The father is the only one who can leave the house to go to his factory job, and that seems like a paradise for viewers trapped watching this clinically shot claptrap.

Roth's works are particularly hard to do justice to onscreen, perhaps because the celebrated author's personality is really in his words

The movie is filled with fun '50s Americana.

Isn't prophetic ... just pathetic

Tis embalmed drama is a ghost from the '80s, a decade that regularly produced surprise-free, caramelized biopics. The airless Amelia is missing practically everything.

Viva needed to be shaved down to about 70 minutes, the better to really let loose and jettison some over-the-top jokiness.

Writer-director Kari Skogland adapts a beloved Canadian novel gracefully and with plenty of spunk, the same way its main character moves through the world from cradle to grave.

Motherhood's litany of complaints and trite comedy-drama comes off as thin, and targeted, as a flyer for The Children's Place.

The three icons ham it up, do some verbal towel-snapping and have fun, which also describes most of this self-conscious adventure movie.

Neeson's better than this. You can't watch him here without thinking, Geez, every fight-choreography session could have funded "Love, Actually." This bash-the-door-down action scene likely took as long to film as "Kinsey." That gunfight required more stunts than all of "Schindler's List."

Talk about style over substance: The sheer volume of musical, comic-strip and video-game influences, riffs and licks in "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World" can get exhausting, but they also are what lift this romantic coming-of-age tale from this world to someplace totally ... else.

With no adults to add melodrama, the sweet Water Lilies depends on the emotion in its young performers' faces to move forward.

The story and performances (save for Matthew McNulty’s angry Luis Buñuel) are paint-by-numbers, with social upheaval and sexual adventurism as dramatic as an after-dinner mint.

All the actresses, especially Theron, are appropriately haunted, but let's hope Arriaga's love of echoes, fate and coincidence has run its mopey course.

Iron Man 2 sets gold standard for sequels thanks to Robert Downey Jr.'s Stark performance.

Peepli Live may not consistently hit the mark, but it's savvy and humane, which goes a long way.

Sparky voice performances and heart make up for this family film's theft of Tim Burton's sensibility.

Scott Thomas breathes more emotion into Juliette's affectless, haunted demeanor than most actors do with pages of dialogue.

Once it's high-concept plot kicks in, Gervais' hilariously self-deprecating persona is really all that keeps it grounded.

It's hard to talk about The Soloist without falling into cliches, because this well-meaning but ham-handed drama is full them.

While the climactic dinner is a bit too much like a circus audition, Roach -- who helmed the "Austin Powers" movies as well as "Meet the Parents" and "Meet the Fockers" -- knows how to enjoy each sideshow.

It was a true media circus, and despite Polanski's work before and since, the film shows how it will forever be his first association in the public consciousness. In the U.S., at least.

Moving, intelligent documentary.

Faour and Muallen give solid performances, but there are a few too many by-the-numbers moments.

John Peaslee's Screenwriting 101-style script has merely left everyone floating on their own.

The movie doesn't try for "Airplane!" or even "Scary Movie"-type ribbing, but its adherence to the genre isn't quite pure, either. Despite McCormack's good-natured efforts, this is "MADtv"-quality satire.

Unabashedly one-sided, this biography of Chávez - and several other Latin American politicians - does raise some valid concerns about what Stone calls the "manipulative power of the media." So it's too bad he's as guilty of partisanship as the right-wing outlets he reviles.

It's a big fat missed opportunity.

The latest indignity.

What's cool and always kicky is seeing a country's irreverent movie trash being treated with such, well, reverence.

Nowhere near as kinky or thinky as Soderbergh’s "sex, lies and videotape," Girlfriend pretends it has more on its mind than it really does.

By the end of its way-too-long 98 minutes, there are four things audiences will be haunted by: Jovovich's annoying, whispery monotone; silly closeups of owls; Will Patton's Z-movie turn as a grizzled sheriff, and dialogue like "It's too late to forget what you already know." Ain't that the truth.

It's about watching two always-fine actors do a lot with very little.

These actors know how to liven up a room, yet here they're forced to perform in Miller's Theater for the Overwritten.

Imagine a quietly creepy "X-Men" prequel -- in French -- and you have this odd little parable.

So now we have a full-length Machete movie, and it turns out that, as usual, less is more.

The most pleasant surprise in the movie adaptation of "Watchmen" is the pop-art fusion set off by placing superheroes in a "real" world. The film's biggest challenge – and accomplishment – was making that plausible.

Robert Luketic's bland action comedy focuses on the uninteresting relationship between its two bland main characters, and that's the deadliest thing in sight.

You see the spark of 'this is cool!,' but you don't sense a purpose. The underconceived Public Enemies suffers from that lack of drive, though Johnny Depp is so urgent and charismatic as John Dillinger, he provides enough firepower to make the film legit.

A kids' adventure movie can be a lot of things -- wild and woolly, loosey-goosey, full of foolishness -- but they should never be shabby. And that's the best word for Inkheart.

Culminating in a high-scoring, exciting game, "Gunnin'" scores.

What he does do finally in this funny, refreshing movie is assert how unrestrained religiosity could guarantee the "end days" many of his subjects admit to looking forward to.

Regardless of where its stars want to take it, all roads here lead to blandness and inanity.

A chatty little bore.

If you're going to pick the werewolf as your favorite monster, there's a lot to appreciate in the shaggy, imperfect but still fun new version of The Wolf Man.

So much of this irritating film from first-time writer-director Daniel Barnz feels like a writing exercise it's amazing Elle Fanning, in the title role, comes off as well as she does.

Dilutes the idea some by giving every four-legged hero a story arc. And there's not enough of the first movie's super-erudite monkeys. Yet the sitcom-style silliness is still there, and it's nice to see that the old "grin or frown as you wave a hand across your face" joke still has cross-generational, and cross-species, appeal.

Sandler's shambling Yogi Bear-ness will be the big appeal to holiday-vacation audiences.

Likely to draw a range of responses. Many will be transported by its gorgeous construction and breathless emotion. Others will find it patently ridiculous.

Among an excellent cast, Douglas truly is the nexus; he and Stone make this sequel pay off big-time.

Filmmakers Tia Lessin and Carl Deal utilize the footage Kim and Scott Roberts had taken throughout the disaster, showing how residents suffered, survived and came together to help when official assistance let them down.

The splintered viewpoints help with the monotony, but from the taunting of new inmates to the cell-block sadist, we've gone through all this before, right down to the final twists.

"Wolverine" is silly and typical, not in spite of but because it bonds an undeveloped family feud onto the main character's renegade story.

This absorbing film isn't an apology or an explanation, but it nonetheless holds plenty of answers - including an amusing dissection of that infamously wiry hair-bear 'fro from the man who wore it.

A movie with no clear narrative. It pushes boundaries and feels like one man's fever dream. But all those traits would certainly make Allen Ginsberg happy.

The story's Hitchcockian plot loses steam quickly, though Pinon's salty presence keeps things from getting totally bloodless.

An atrocious mess.

The International almost seems like a Monty Python spoof on spy-game thrillers in which the phrase "secret agent" is constantly replaced by "banker," resulting in lines like, "...If I die, 100 other bankers take my place."

What the movie needs more than anything else is a fast-forward button.

Luckily, Son of Rambow, a comedy that's part kid-buddy flick, part valentine to filmmaking - and full of heart - has both.

A cringe-inducing, self-consciously kooky indie comedy that's best enjoyed for its taste of Rip Torn.

As a misanthropic guy in a dead-end job, Matthew Broderick is more engaging than when he has to be perky.

The movie may wear its shagginess on its sleeve, but Stiller knows exactly what he’s doing.

And then there is the most annoying animated sidekick in a long time: a bulb-headed, trying-to-be-cute glow creature called Kilowatt (Kristen Chenoweth), who sings an ear-piercing, high-pitched note when it's scared, which is often.

A fast and relentless hostage thriller that never stops.

The James Bond parodies and genre riffs feel at least 20 years past their prime, and most will fly right over the heads of audience members 7 and under

A romantic comedy that's neither romantic nor funny.

Has two aces going for it: Soderbergh's poking at the maze­like holes in American business and Damon's whirling dervish performance.

The eyewitness testimony of dozens of punk-era survivors and hotel denizens has a disorienting effect, and everyone gets sidetracked, though the colorful anecdotes are priceless.

The cast hits the right notes. Fraser, switching between affable good sport and heroic goofball, clearly doesn't mind this stuff. He realized early on with "George of the Jungle," "Dudley Do-Right" and the "Mummy" movies that his B-movie build and persona is perfect for live-action cartoons.

The same boring routine gets played out again.

This fawning appreciation wears thin, despite the good-natured clowning of Alabama dentist/would-be actor George Hardy, who's like a poor man's Bruce Campbell (our apologies to Bruce Campbell).

The final result somehow undersells a man whose life and death were watershed moments in the gay rights movement.

The result isn't bland, but it's not exactly Bond either.

Wang tracks his guys like the documentarian he is, and if the movie feels a bit canned thanks to Adam Forgash's unoriginal script, classic NYC spots and a big heart make it feel like home.

Sadly, once the movie shifts gears, it becomes a timid "Donnie Darko."

Splice is an unholy mess because it fuses together the worst parts of every bad medical-monster thriller, and then boldly cranks up the ridiculous.

Kick-Ass - based on a graphic novel - thinks it's so brave and bold. But it's more like the title character, a dweeb who just thinks he's tough.

A fast-moving, rock 'em-sock 'em movie that continues the man-vs.-machines series begun 25 years ago.

Affleck keeps the film as fluid as the "Mystic River," and never forgets that Renner is his ace in the hole. The "Hurt Locker" star charges up every scene he's in with feral power, and is rewarded with one of the most exciting sequences seen in any action movie this decade.

Brothers tries to delve into how war can tear families apart, but only succeeds in showing how miscasting and melodrama obscure good intentions.

A frenetic, overstuffed but imaginative fantasy.

Like a worst-case-scenario, indie-movie cliché, Wendy and Lucy throws every bone it can at the screen.

This is a role that the Julia Roberts of 1999 couldn't have played, and that's fine. The one we have here is much better.

This unhurried, novelistic movie is worth looking into.

Engrossing, sad and heartbreaking.

What this heavy-handed film mainly has to endure is a clunky story structure and an ending that wasn't original when it was seen four decades ago on "The Twilight Zone."

Would like to think of itself as an extension of its lead character -- gangly, a bit uncouth, but ultimately sweet. Unfortunately, it's more like the best friend in a movie like this -- irritating, unfunny and something that hangs around longer than it should.

Where the film fails, ironically, is in the central love affair. Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen is undeniably gifted, but his Stravinsky is a blank, stoic presence only comfortable at a piano.

Challenging and thoughtful, but is also, like its characters, a prisoner of its own anger.

These three films (adapted from David Peace's novels by different directors), each a singularly gripping work, together form a towering and emotionally complex achievement.

This somber but unexceptional drama is luxurious to look at but never gripping.

Ball knows one trick, and it's sure over.

Whether the young ensemble attains it remains to be seen. The standouts, though, are Naughton, Pennie and Perez De Tagle.

Writer-director Wayne Kramer adds what could be called mainstream threads to his messy script, but the result is simplistic across the board.

The film, unfortunately, hasn't the depth Malkovich brings to his performance.

Here, the actor (Di Niro) dials it down and wins us over.

To eavesdrop on Bernardo Bertolucci, Stephen Frears, Ken Loach and John Sayles, as they talk politics; David Lynch and Todd Haynes, discussing inspiration; and Catherine Breillat, Agnès Varda, Richard Linklater and Liliana Cavani as they riff on controversy and aspiration, even for a little while, is a real treat.

Only in its final scenes do the usual WKW themes emerge in full bloom, but purists shouldn't miss it.

As ineffectual police work and broken feet stack up, the silliness gets out of hand.

Makes the most of its format, soaring when its young hero rides on his winged reptilian pal, and full of heart and heroism even when its action is grounded.

This action-comedy will seem fresh only to 8-year-olds -- though it may give parents an excuse to introduce some of the '50s horror movies it parodies.

Morris mixes piercing sit-downs with disturbing evidence. Though soldiers, including the notorious Lynndie England, express remorse, it's haunting to hear how several prisoners were "nice guys" or known to be innocent, yet no connection is made between those remarks and the images of torture.

Solid performances and a literary feel help turn a standard family-rift drama into a dry but saucy narrative.

A clunky, dead-on-arrival scary drama that proves that even people with good taste need a good script or direction.

Benjamin never questions his fate and ­never actually gets to enjoy being a kid. At least there's a thoughtful middle part, where the enigmatic Blanchett comes alive and Benjamin seems haunted by life -- someone we recognize, and not just a vessel tossed about by time.

The movie soon turns into only a production-designed run-and-chase game, and our curiosity about what happened to Earth and the crew is teased and teased again until the movie’s big letdown of a reveal.

Though there's too much movie-style self-deception, Sheridan is excellent, and his scenes with the consistently engaging, criminally underemployed Campbell Scott are subtle and serene.

The "Star Trek" gibes feel especially lazy, since the movie ought to be "Men in Black" kicky, not sketch-comedy dusty.

While Montias' actors do their best, even good intentions have limits. Still, it never feels false. And remember, even Martin Scorsese (born in Queens) had to start somewhere.

Director Chen Shi-Zheng's film has a graceful energy, and three strong performances help make this serene drama - and its shocking conclusion - quietly moving.

With musical numbers and fight scenes as big as its heart, director Nikhil Advani's action-comedy really does sample it all.

Has a mature tapestry of characters, a welcome sense of humor and, most crucially, a lovely Juliette Binoche.

Tries waaay too hard, just like its motormouth jock-snark heroes.

The trouble is, too much of director Shawn Levy's '80s-ish lark is filled with noise, when it really needed more quietly silly stuff.

Occasionally stumbles into charm but more often is just wayward and hazy. It makes you hungry for a real movie from writer-director Jonathan Levine.

The cozy sentimentality in The Time Traveler's Wife is the only thing that grounds it. Mostly it's just featherheaded.

Plays like a throwback to gritty-but-softhearted English dramas of the 1980s like "Mona Lisa" and "Sammy and Rosie Get Laid."

Tries to capture that moment -- complete with air guitar-playing deejays -- and unapologetically rides a wave of nostalgia, but ultimately sinks due to a bloated, watery script.

That truthfulness, along with the movie's emotional honesty and narrative polish, help tag this NY-grown indie as one to seek out.

Has moments of honesty, but more often the barren landscape - both outside and inside - drains the emotions out of the film.

The late King of Pop delivers.

An epic example of muddled storytelling, chintzy excitement and scatter-brained execution.

An atrocious, idiotic 88 minutes of anti-entertainment. To borrow word-shtick from the guru Pitka, it's AWFUL as in, "Anyone Watching Feels, Um, Loser-ish."

If you're looking for an incisive portrait of self-generated stardom, you won't do better than this.

Donald Sutherland's passionate rendition of a speech from Trumbo's 1971 film "Johnny Got His Gun" (based on his novel) is worth the price of admission.

Luna and Bernal have amiability, but not enough to earn a recommendation for this clichéd movie.

Arnold generally steers clear of cinematic melodrama, and Jarvis infuses the entire film with the sort of kinetic spirit that heralds a new talent.

With witty throwaway bits and Cavanagh's fast delivery, "Scot" gets away with a third-act dip into hearts and platitudes. Otherwise, it's refreshingly snarky and quick.

A thoughtful drama about guys who have a moment in the big time before returning home to an odd reflected glory.

Director Nimrod Antal’s grungy gang-of-thieves pic is tough and, for this genre, surprisingly ethical.

This often haunting stop-motion Claymation movie ultimately suffers from what bedevils many live-action movies culled from short stories: a herky-jerky plot.

There are two stormy performances from Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz that elevate Allen's melancholy thoughts on love and relationships.

This two-bit echo of "The Accidental Tourist" is a preachy pill that wastes the genial, funny Jeff Daniels and the criminally underused Lauren Graham.

Overly analytical, cutesy comedy-drama.

The whole thing is such a tedious, foul-mouthed mess that it isn't even worth discussing as a riff on the Bob Dylan doc "Don't Look Back" or a meditation on slovenly semi-madness.

Craig, far from James Bond but still swaggering, makes a leathery, craggy commander, and Schreiber - who'll show his full-on action chops this summer in the Hugh Jackman "Wolverine" movie - is tough but sullen. Yet all this old-style moviemaking doesn't always pay off.

If characters talking to dogs and dog reaction shots are some of your favorite things, add some stars to this review.

It's like torture, though Body of Lies has nothing to spill.

The result isn't deadly dull, but it does turn what should have been a most dangerous game into a basic scenery-chewing contest.

Hoffman, Morton and Jon Brion's aching score somehow capture the all-too-human need to get things right. If you're in a certain frame of mind, those moments make up for all the stagecraft.

Drag Me to Hell is an eyeball-gouging lesson in how to make a genre flick and live to tell about it.

The movie devolves into a series of clichéd bits, none of which are that funny.

Such a lazy action-drama underachiever, it seems unfair to target stars Jamie Foxx and Gerard Butler for bringing their C game.

The movie shows the city as both an intimidating and enticing place for new arrivals, but ultimately gets bogged down in the cliched split destinies and intentions of its main characters.

A measured and thoughtful meditation on a leader who, this terrific movie believes, inadvertently made the world as roiling as his soul.

Words and story are still the lifeblood of a movie, and Jennifer's Body is filled like a Twinkie with half-fleshed-out ideas.

The central metaphor of dance, though, is forced, a standard-issue cliché about dancing away problems.

Watch for a cameo by young animator Tim Burton.

Twisted, tortured, terrifying - and terrific.

Flashbacks show samurai shenanigans, but it's all cluttered and rambling. Watch "True Blood," "Let the Right One In" or "Twilight" instead. Or wait for "Thirst" or "New Moon" or "Daybreakers" or ...

Ferguson doesn't aim to entertain; he wants answers, and talks to many of the enabling weasels.

Throughout, Davidson's intentions are honest but become lost in a haze of overly familiar story beats.

Haneke's superb cast provide beautifully measured hints at the disconnect between the ribbon's symbolism and the entire town's unspoken atrocities.

The cast is generally game for playing cardboard cutouts, with Goodman having the most fun.

A quiet, oddly serene movie with a curious soul.

Most of the acting is amateurish at best, and the tone is vintage "Afterschool Special." But it does aim to be family-friendly, and at least it succeeds there.

Director John Scheinfeld's film, utilizing interviews with friends and collaborators, hits a high note on Nilsson's friendship with Ringo Starr and his fear of stage performance.

Fast-moving, exciting and contains more twists than a tunnel under Checkpoint Charlie.

A fairly gripping cautionary tale.

This doc, made by Kunstler's daughters Emily and Sarah, doesn't pretend to be unbiased, but it nonetheless has an unblinking view of its subject. They must have learned a thing or two from dad.

A "Blair Witch"-y creepshow that owes a lot to Japanese horror.