Ken Fox

It's undone by a murky palette, silly horror-movie cliches, dumb dialogue and a confusing climactic sequence.

Inexpensively shot on digital video, it's an invaluable work of art.

In what can only be described as a throwback to the awkward "gay" farces of the 1970s and '80s -- think "The Ritz" and "Partners -- this painfully uncomfortable buddy comedy trips all over itself to say something positive while still managing to offend. Worse still, it's just not funny.

Filmmaker AJ Schnack's hauntingly beautiful film is a bold and successful attempt to recover the human being who disappeared under the heavy mantle of "face and voice of a lost generation," and whose life has been increasingly overshadowed by his sensational early death in 1994.

Delightful mix of swinging '60s style, road movie conventions and age-old romantic comedy tropes that coasts along on little more than charm, and does it delightfully.

This unusually rich film tackles not only the social structuring of criminality and sexuality but race as well, and explores the ways science has been used to justify the ruthless pursuit of market interests and, eventually, apartheid itself.

By alternating between Jackson's and Kim's point of view, McCann shows both sides of the story: the panicky fear of the paranoid schizophrenic -- the arrhythmic editing and Marshall Grupp's masterful sound design convey a sense of dislocation and shifting reality -- and the bewilderment and frustration of the people who try to help him.

It's a thoughtful and ultimately chilling take on a tragedy that still has the power to disturb and divide.

A dark and edgy teen comedy that's also one of the most excitingly unpredictable American comedies since "Pulp Fiction."

Unfortunately, the film never really catches fire, despite uniformly high-caliber performances; Day-Lewis, surely one the finest actors of his generation, is excellent.

Through Carax's eyes, even squalor looks fabulous.

It's curious that the filmmakers choose to end the story without reporting on Weatherwoman Kathy Boudin's involvement in an ill-fated 1981 robbery of a Brinks truck in New York State.

If Israel needs a Mike Leigh to capture the angst of its silently suffering working class, it could do far worse than Nir Bergman.

The cast is similarly impressive; they're American through and through, and thankfully refrain from affecting anything remotely resembling a British stage accent.

Each woman is a terrific interview, and if the climactic vision of these still beautiful ladies gliding through the water doesn't bring a lump to your throat, you surely have no heart.

Raunchy without ever devolving into flat-out prurience, Berger's oddly sweet comedy perfectly captures the naivete of the era and the unexpected wholesomeness of some of its adult entertainment.

Perfect introduction to a remarkable career, and a moving memorial to a remarkable filmmaker.

Without offering any hard and fast solutions to the essential mystery, this is a thought provoking drama about the nature of belief and devotion that never feels exclusionary.

It exudes a slightly stale air that does nothing to dispel gay stereotypes.

The film doesn't really go anywhere, other than outside for endless games of basketball, and the group-therapy environment allows for far too many young-actor monologues.

If you're expecting anything resembling the beloved cartoon, you'll enjoy the title sequence and nothing else. If, however, you set your expectations just low enough, or are an easily satisfied 8-year-old, you might have a bit of fun.

The detatched, fly-on-the-wall perspective, however, offers little insight into the strange gender game that's played out in the dark safety of the porn theater.

Easily one of the oddest romantic comedies since "My New Gun." It's also one of the most visually inventive, and if its charms very nearly defy description, it's nonetheless irresistible.

Svankmajer has crafted his finest live-action feature to date.

Zhang's film is sweet and sentimental nearly to a fault; luckily, he's such a master, you'll hardly notice how shamelessly you're being manipulated.

While at times overly familiar, the film never feels self-mocking.

Rather than concentrate on Ann's disappointed infatuation and providing a satisfactory reason for its failure, Minot and, one suspects, Cunningham in particular, chose to flesh out the character of Buddy.

Ryan is raw and remarkably good, but the film's real star is New York. Draped in post-9/11 anxiety and brimming with a free-floating fear, the city hasn't appeared this threatening since the '70s.

This poky and indifferently plotted film isn't much of mystery.

Lacks the real emotional wallop these two fine actresses...seem ready to provide.

Fun for a while, but soon turns grating before ending on a startlingly tragic note.

Kurosawa's farewell film is full of sentiment, tears, toasts and songs.

Fans of 50 Cent, whose own endlessly exploited past keeps him surrounded by Kevlar and bodyguards, will probably see the film for what it is -- a weak, watered roman à clef -- while admirers of Irish director Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In America) will marvel that he had anything to do with such a trite variation on the venerable "Star is Born" scenario.

You just know that any film that opens with Nietzsche's aphorism about hope being an evil that only prolongs the torments of man isn't going to a comedy.

The always charming Deschanel manages to rise above most of the film's logy pretensions, but the usually excellent Clarkson isn't so lucky.

It's both very funny and very scary, and never descends to the level of spoof.

It may be an old story, but Berri draws fresh poignancy from this December-May romance by identifying so empathetically with Jacques.

Eye-opening documentary by New Zealand filmmaker Alison Maclean.

The camerawork is crude and the editing seems almost accidental, but it's really all about the writing, which is strong throughout; Seaton has a sharp ear for convincingly conversational dialogue.

Make sure you catch this spooky and strangely moving portrait of this highly unusual artist while you can.

Rarely do movies portray the elderly with such admiration and respect.

The film is filled with Miike's brand of imaginatively staged violence and hints of fetish sexuality, but his sadism, which reaches its apotheosis in 2001's sickening "Ichii The Killer", is tempered by a sincere romanticism and a number of lovely touches.

A wild, endlessly inventive romp set in a post-war world so full of machine-guns and hand-grenades that people barely flinch when one or the other goes off.

The film is really a timely critique of the ongoing insanity that has engulfed Israeli life.

For all its harsh realism, the film flows like a dream, albeit a highly unpleasant one.

There are a few inspired set-pieces -- Ruber's creation of a mechanical army is really quite something -- and the score by David Foster and Carol Bayer Sager is generally fine. But overall, this is a bloodless entry into an already highly formulaic genre.

Uncomfortable as the film is, it's a beautiful, sensuous experience.

Filled with forced yuletide cheer and mixed messages about the true meaning of Christmas, this loud and obnoxious holiday comedy boasts a fine cast and little else.

Sassone's hit-and-miss ethnic comedy is actually a retelling of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, with the Italian neighborhood of South Yonkers, N.Y., standing in for Verona.

One of the many terrible ironies laid out in vivid detail by Justman and her subjects is that many of those accused were among the Party's most ardent members: Jews who wholeheartedly embraced Communism.

Attempts at balance through interviews with unidentified U.S. soldiers is halfhearted at best. In the end, Berends sacrifices coherence for the sake of a story he's determined to tell, rather than focusing on the one that's practically telling itself.

While the homeless, the mentally ill and the generally downtrodden are scattered about like so much shabby furniture, Rifkin has no qualms about wallowing in their filth, but he misses the tragedy of their lives -- just as he misses everything else.

Garish, animated junk.

And while this director's cut doesn't really differ all that much from the original 1979 release, it contains a few minutes of never-before seen footage, including one serious bitch slap and an entire scene in which Ripley stumbles upon a few not-quite-dead crew members whose terrible fates foreshadow James Cameron's 1986 sequel.

Barratier has assembled an unforgettable gallery of faces both young and old, and prolific character actor Berleand plays the perfect villain.

Actor-turned-director Campbell Scott handles this enigmatic science fiction mystery with such gloomy restraint that it barely moves. That said, it never panders to audience expectations and is exceptionally well acted. Bill Tyler.

Dark, dank and violent, filled with terrifying scenes in which exploited children are beaten, shot or starving to death. In other words, it's just as Dickens wrote.

The set-up revolves around a draggy love triangle, while the climax -- slo-mo leap through the air and all -- could have come out of any direct-to-video action flick.

It's tremendous fun, thanks largely to a smarter-than-average script and some fierce casting.

The famous soliloquies are heard in voice-over -- a risky idea that works -- and Wright has found clever ways of naturalizing the play's more supernatural elements.

Wood is excellent, but this is a career highlight for Douglas. His depiction of the manic Charlie stays surprisingly grounded and prevents the story from being a naive celebration of mental illness as a kind of freedom that it so easily could have become.

Does find a spot closer to the middle than most.

Heartwarming is not always a bad thing.

Rather than trading le Carré's downbeat but agonizingly true-to-life ending for something more palatable, Meirelles has crafted a rare sort of thriller that refuses to resolve real-life issues for the sake of feel-good entertainment.

Heartfelt and often very funny.

Forgetting that French New Wave directors often turned to Hollywood for inspiration, cinema snobs will doubtless be outraged that Hollywood would dare remake such a beloved Rohmer masterpiece, when in fact, tone aside, "Chloe In The Afternoon" isn't all that different from "The Seven Year Itch."

The underlying political motivation may be unclear, but the violence and desperation of lives lived in something close to hell on earth is terrifyingly clear.

Despite its flaws, the film has the same dreamy, romantic melancholy that distinguishes Wong's best films.

It's quite an achievement and makes a strong argument in favor of traditional animation — this is the first Disney feature since "Dumbo" (1941) to feature watercolor backgrounds, and they're beautiful. But beautiful illustrations and a funny premise can't save this well-meaning kid flick from its dully plotted story.