Joe Williams

The Immigrant is not unlike a Prohibition-era “Taxi Driver,” with Cotillard as the apprentice hooker, Phoenix as the sweet-talking pimp and Jeremy Renner (playing the theater’s magician, Orlando) as the would-be savior.

Aiming for a middle path between drama and comedy, The Way Way Back is so overloaded with jokes that it could sink in the water hazard, but on the final scorecard, sure enough, it’s in the hole.

Gleeson is great as the troubled, conscientious priest, but until an abruptly shocking finale, his fatalism turns the ticking clock into a congested hourglass.

What Barrymore brings is good-natured, girl-powered subversion, a sense of when to flaunt clichés and when to flip them over the rails.

Sticks to the syllabus of a decidedly minor movie, but its humanities faculty is first-rate.

Even with a large cast, groovy clothes and cool pop songs, Hawkins holds our attention with a combination of modesty and moral strength.

The sharp writing and tag-team antics lift 22 Jump Street to a high level.

A minor revelation.

It’s a measure of the movie’s success that we never stop to question how or when the trickery is employed.

In steering a course between the rock of rude humor and the hard place of perilous drama, How to Train Your Dragon flies high.

This well-executed sequel is sneaky. While it distracts us with Chinese backdrops and buffoonish humor, it sucker punches us with a message about belonging.

More benevolent than Bill Maher's snarky flick "Religulous" and a heaven-sent affirmation of our common humanity.

Within the bloodshot-eye perspective of their other stoner comedies, it’s bluntly funny and ever-so-slightly sweet.

Although it starts slowly, the accumulated tension and thematic resonance leaves us breathless.

The rare film that flows from a wellspring of ideas.

Indeed, most of the famous faces are surprisingly adept at singing. Even when the actors are not lip-syncing (which seems to be about half the time), the dense, clever lyrics are intelligible.

Perhaps the spookiest thing in this slyly scary movie is the word-for-word way that Patrick's followers regurgitate his pablum.

Like "The Squid and the Whale," this character study pushes the definition of comedy to the breaking point, and unlike the far less successful "Margot at the Wedding," it leaves us faintly smiling after the workout.

The debut creation of director Ritesh Batra, it’s a lovely little film from a place where the little things linger.

These wars being fought in our name may be dirty, but this courageous film reminds us that as long as we have a free press, they don’t have to be secret.

Like black coffee that's flung in our face, The Killer Inside Me silences the question of whether it's good or bad. But for darn sure, it's strong.

With a greater emphasis on sex than violence, Spring Breakers is a more enjoyable guilty pleasure than “Natural Born Killers” and just as acute about our cultural devolution. For all its seeming stupidity, its masterstroke is making us complicit in the corruption of its young stars (who include the director’s own wife).

In telling a true story about hapless thugs who are the embodiment of Michael Bay fans, the director has made the most fiendishly enjoyable movie of his career.

The Women on the 6th Floor shouldn't work, but this efficient flick whisks away our cynicism.

Streep is astonishing, conveying Child's gusto, her quavering voice, even her height.

The edginess here isn't merely facile. Goldthwait's movies, including the under-appreciated "Shakes the Clown," are about reclaiming dignity from the dung heap. And he's found a fitting collaborator.

Like psychoanalysis, A Dangerous Method takes its time as it circles an opening to unexplored depths. To reward our patience, Cronenberg gives us some honey-hued eye candy and rich dialogue, but if you're seeking instant gratification, I prescribe "Shame."

As a critic who complains about painless and brainless action movies, I hoist a glass of mead to the men and maidens of Ironclad.