Ken Fox

Weerasethakul mixes fact, fiction and filmmaking into a blend that's intriguingly obtuse, yet surprisingly revelatory.

The morbid theme notwithstanding, this is by no means a downbeat film, and it ends with the rather hopeful thought that for every disaster there's also a chance for survival.

Long takes do not a masterpiece make, and the suspicion that the whole thing is a lark is only bolstered by Damon and Affleck's inability to contain their giggles.

Sadly, the only aspect of this well-intentioned film that doesn't feel completely formulaic is its refreshingly unromantic picture of an inner-city neighborhood in the early '70s: Life in Nicetown is hard and very, very poor.

A tale of conscience lost and found becomes little more than a smart but tepid ghost story for idealists and '60s survivors, and not a terribly spooky one at that.

This grim black comedy from Belgium would be unbearable if it wasn't scripted with such wry humor.

Good intentions can't compensate for crude technique or lack of insight, but Israeli director Dan Wolman's deserves credit for broaching a serious subject.

Luke gives a powerful performance -- with his looks and talent, he should be a much bigger star -- but Robbins is the one you'll remember. Fixed with the faraway look of a doomed man who knows the center cannot hold, he gazes fearfully toward a future he knows is coming and can do nothing to stop.

This is a film for hardcore film fans and Francophiles. Everyone else may find little to sustain them beyond the pastiche and shots of Paris.

It's actually quite interesting, albeit in a supremely self-conscious and artsy-fartsy way.

The pacing is suspenseful and acting is actually pretty good, even if accents are no one's strong suit.

Holding nothing back, Walters is, once again, remarkable.

Truly in a class by itself.

It's neither romantic nor particularly funny.

Schroeder's film is a fascinating character study in contradictions and in the end Verges remains loathsome, oddly charismatic and willfully enigmatic.

It's even louder and dumber than the first XXX, but if watching things fall down and go boom in a very big way makes you cheer, you're in luck.

This is much more than a typically one-dimensional message-movie -- it's obviously the work of a master filmmaker .

As an explanation of where we are today, the entire film makes for crucial viewing.

As contrived and pretentious as its title.

The film is virtually wall-to-wall music with very little commentary -- it's obvious that, given the chance, these musicians would much rather play than talk.

Of all the feature films and documentaries to emerge since 9/11, few have been as bold, perceptive or as downright chilling as this thriller.

It's a far more interesting film; unfortunately, it's locked inside a maudlin coming-of-age story that barely registers.

It's nothing less than an examination of the very meaning of family.

The final moment of Minac's film is a powerful tribute to Winton's heroism and the magnitude of his achievement, easily eclipsing the 90 minutes that precede it.

Overall the movie is too stupid to offend any but the most sensitive viewer.

Silly but endearing comedy.

What the film lacks in artistry it makes up for in commitment.

The film is filled with humor, compassion and cajones, and never once glosses over the fact that these guys are prickly personalities who can sometimes act like jerks. There are also a few tears, but remarkably, not a single one is shed in pity.