Ken Fox

Exceptionally satisfying and enormously entertaining.

Though stylishly produced, this clumsy parable will probably engender more boredom than sequels.

Irwin's film comes as a bracing reminder of what punk was once all about, and will hopefully serve as an inspiration for better bands to come.

As if to prove that light romantic comedy can be just as difficult to stage as Shakespeare, Kenneth Branagh fails at both, simultaneously.

The only thing that enlivens Beauvois' anti-thriller is Baye's beautiful performance.

The Armenian-American quartet have taken it upon themselves to teach their fans about what happened to their families in that now-forgotten time, a deeply personal mission that has proven effective in politicizing their audiences.

The film's longer running time means more dead spots and the more elaborate stunts demand tighter scripting and less room to improvise, which is a shame since improvisation is the Reno's gang real strength. Forgiving fans, however, won't care a whit.

A gentle, offbeat drama that hails the arrival of a new talent in writer-director Eric Mendelsohn, and bids a poignant farewell to a uniquely gifted actress, the late Madeline Kahn.

Delightful Bolivian comedy, which also works as a sly critique of mass media.

While it does take place over a weekend spent touring Northern California's wine country, writer-director Russell Brown's feature debut isn't exactly a bicurious "Sideways." The characters are less interesting and even less likable, and the only pleasure we can take is in their emotional pain.

The anger that fuels Ferguson's film is felt in nearly every frame.

Fine performances from Sam Rockwell and Brad William Henke deserve some passing attention.

In an outstanding ensemble, Spall is particularly good.

A psychologically acute profile of one teenaged girl obsessed with leading what she thinks of as normal life.

That this handsome, three-hour extravaganza coheres at all is a small miracle; that it actually leaves you wanting more is a major one.

A modest but well-done film with a little something for everyone.

Visually striking and viscerally repellent, director Denis Villeneuve's Quebecois oddity offers a nightmarish vision of one woman's unraveling, the likes of which haven't been seen since Roman Polanski pushed Catherine Deneuve off the deep end in "Repulsion" (1965).

Before it takes a sudden turn and devolves into a bizarre sort of romantic comedy, Steven Shainberg's adaptation of Mary Gaitskill's harrowing short story about dominance, submission and the twisted sexual dynamics of the work place is a brilliantly played, deeply unsettling experience.

The film is shamelessly presented by Miramax as "The Project Greenlight Movie," and writer-director Pete Jones's big break may ultimately prove a liability.

Like the violence in Alan Clarke's Elephant, the BBC documentary about Northern Ireland from which the film takes its name, Van Sant offers no straightforward reasons for what happens at this particular school. The explosion of violence is far from unmotivated, but its roots are presented as deeply personal and, even more troubling, ultimately inexplicable.

The fact that it's based on a true story doesn't make it feel any less trite.

Writer-director Richard Ledes' dreadfully misconceived, pitch-black, film-noir comedy seeks to find the humor in the post-WWII mental hygiene boom, and the result is way off target.

Beesley's film is perfectly in sync with the Lips' unique vision.

Fans of the genre are in for a wickedly entertaining treat.

While touching on subjects as serious and diverse as capital punishment, the devaluation of women in Iran and the true Islamic concept of forgiveness, this powerful melodrama from the Iranian filmmaker Asghar Farhadi is anything but a message movie.

"There is no antidote for the human bomb," one Sri Lankan official flatly states, but Ziv's film offers a number of important insights into a phenomenon that's only gaining momentum.

What one interviewee calls a "fog of ambiguity" surrounding what was and wasn't officially authorized shielded superior officers and key members of the Department of Defense -- namely Donald Rumsfeld.

Chase is a veritable black-hole of mirthlessness who sucks every ounce of fun out what might otherwise be a fairly diverting comedy.

Ironically, as the former U.S. ambassador to Saudi Arabia Chas Freeman, puts it, Iraq has become what the Bush White House insisted it was at the very beginning, albeit for altogether different reasons: a battlefield in the war against terrorism.

In the end, the film is both a fitting elegy for Arna and the children she tried to help and a deeply disturbing warning about what will continue to breed within the occupied territories until peace is brought to Palestine.

Melodramatic.

Dong shows how intolerance has the power to deform families, then tear them apart. At 75 minutes, the film is too short; each story deserves a full hour of its own.

An enjoyably ironic rethink of a beloved fairy tale.

Throughout this raw, often brilliant drama, the Dardennes refuse to judge these deeply flawed characters. They instead maintain a moral objectivity that ultimately leaves room for the possibility of redemption, no matter how dire the sins committed.

This loud, overlong and thoroughly exhausting fantasy, based on Milan Trenc's slim children's book, purports to introduce youngsters to the wonders of New York City's American Museum of Natural History, but in fact aims squarely at hyperactive kids who can't sit still or stand a moment's silence.

Poignant and sometimes downright hilarious, much of the film unfolds in the small area outside the arena -- an "offside" penalty box for women who just won't behave.

If it's all supposed to be in fun, why does it feel so much like an insult?

The film draws careful parallels between orthodoxies and in his own quiet way, Masud, a devout Muslim, level his critique at repressive political regimes and religious doctrines, and those who dangerously confuse one with the other.

Kenan and Kel share a wonderful comic chemistry that has a lot in common with the anarchic goofiness of Abbott and Costello or Martin and Lewis, leavened with a good deal more mutual affection.

If you've never given much thought to the lives affected each time you choose one brand of coffee over another, allow this handsomely mounted documentary from British filmmakers Marc and Nick Francis to serve as a bracing, double-shot of reality.

Longley has constructed a remarkably coherent, horrifically vivid snapshot of those turbulent days.

Vibrant, funny and tragic documentary.

Remarkable and evenhanded film.

This mordantly funny, emotionally piquant depiction of post-adolescent angst also has its roots in the graphic novel format.

While kids of all ages will want to see it, the movie is loud and occasionally brutal, and while the body count is relatively low, it's still pretty scary stuff.

The real-life Hayata plays himself with little conviction, while the rest of the Spanish-speaking cast give the impression that they don't have the slightest idea what their English-language dialogue means.

Neo-Gothic fantasist Tim Burton and writer John August (Big Fish) play it strictly by the book for this darker but far more faithful adaptation of Roald Dahl's cautionary 1964 young-adult novel.

In Ducastel's and Martineau's hands all the unpleasantness blows away like a kiss on a soft summer breeze, a light wind that nevertheless leaves a vaguely unpleasant scent in its wake.

Can a adorable, freckle-faced four-year-old save an entire movie? Sadly no.

Khoury may be a few years too old to play a minor still squirming under her father's thumb, but her performance as a timid young woman who finds strength while looking for a husband is quite affecting.

Superb drama from New York-based filmmakers Ryan Flek and Anna Boden.

The movie's refusal to treat young girls like silly tramps-in-training is almost radical: It's just good, clean fun and actually offers children of a certain age a role model even adults can feel good about.

This winning comedy joyfully embraces every possible permutation of love; cupid, it turns out, is indeed blind, and doesn't care much about gender either.

Raises important questions that resonate far beyond the subject at hand: What is the meaning of accomplishment, and how do you define triumph?

Hypnotic film.

A welcome introduction to yet another facet of an artist who continues to beguile well into her seventies.

The result is both deeply personal and maddeningly unfocused.

In Koepp's comedic variation on a similar theme, the dead are not just unhappy -- they're irritatingly needy.

In its own quiet way, it's among the most important films you're likely to see this year.

Tries to leave the impression of Escobar as a positive force whose dirty money actually saved Colombia's economy while those of neighboring Latin American countries collapsed.

Rather than remake the entire original movie, Simon West and screenwriter Jake Wade Wall have taken only that now-classic first act and padded it out into a dull, filler-filled feature that's remarkably void of any new ideas.

A lot fresher and bit more sophisticated than the ordinary run of maudlin chick flicks and crude gross-out sex farces that now pass for romantic comedies.

More high - but strangely touching - weirdness from acclaimed Japanese auteur Kiyoshi Kurosawa.

Remarkable film.

Surprisingly intimate, full of sly humor and, believe it or not, an odd sort of tenderness.

Lacking so much as a shred of wit and crammed with more product placements than jokes, this unendurable stoner comedy clearly disproves the movie-formula wisdom that two guys, one Xbox and a 2-foot-long bong add up to something funny.

The voices of the architects, developers, public officials and contractors here discussing the specifics of particular sites, we're hearing the voices of a conflicted nation as it considers how to handle its tumultuous past while defining itself for future generations.

Dramatically simple but emotionally complex.

By the film's downbeat climax, Cerda's dread of death and uncertainty about digging too deeply into what's better left buried have become palpable, and The Abandoned lingers beneath the skin as any decent horror movie should.

While Grazia's story is too reminiscent of such films as "Blue Sky" (1994), which also draws an all too easy connection between mental illness and the oppression of high-spirited housewives, the evocation of provincial life in a tiny village that's wholly dependent on the sea is splendid, and recalls a number of classic Italian films.

The lack of opposing viewpoints soon grows tiresome -- the film feels more like a series of toasts at a testimonial dinner than a documentary.

Efron's remarkable performance as a wild child who seems to truly exist somewhere betwixt and between is riveting.

It's not a pretty picture, but it's an important one.

De Marken and Freeman preserve the group dynamic by dividing the screen into six parts, each mini-frame capturing actions and reactions from a different camera angle, and while the film drags in spots, the performances are unusually powerful.

The movie belongs to the fifth-billed Bishil, a truly gutsy young actress who captures the essence of young female desire in all its adolescent confusion.

It's not only sexy, clever and well-acted by a fine cast of mostly TV actors, but it's also a grown-up comedyabout honest-to-God grown ups.

Wood's drama packs an emotional gut-punch that's all the more devastating for its being rooted in a dreadful historical reality.

Stovall's film could have been a little shorter and a lot tighter.

The power of an otherwise carefully crafted film is undone by risky and not altogether successful casting.

To better capture the extremity of Dengler's ordeal, Bale once again underwent the kind of dramatic weight loss that shocked audiences of "The Machinist," but he's downright plump next to the emaciated Davies, who looks like Charles Manson in the end stages of a hunger strike.

Not even the always reliable Diane Lane can save this one.

Daring, ultimately heartbreaking.

This otherwise amiable family film plods whenever the action returns to dry land.

This curious blend of fact and fiction is ultimately worth the trip -- just don't forget to pack the Advil.

Like so much dope humor, Soling's logic is fuzzy, and you'd have to be pretty high to find any of it funny.

An enthusiastic recommendation.

This failure is especially surprising because Zwigoff not only reunited with "Ghost World's" writer, ingenious graphic artist Dan Clowes, but he aimed to satirize a rarefied sphere both know all too well: the art world.

what makes Caro's film a future classic is What so many movies geared toward younger audiences lack: a cool and very courageous 'tween heroine whom boys and girls of all ages can admire

A move that would be hilariously absurd if it weren't so scary.

Hamer perfectly captures that post-WWII spirit of better living through science by positioning streamlined Swedish cars and hump-backed trailers against the timeless Norwegian landscape.

Natali's film has a fabulous look, a nerve-wracking, claustrophobic mood, a number of genuinely suspenseful set-pieces and some sublimely stomach-churning special effects.

The downtime between deaths has never been duller, and the Rube Goldberg-type death scenes are so poorly staged that it's difficult to figure out what's about to happen and to whom.

Singaporean writer-director Eric Khoo's third feature is a beautiful, contemplative study of love -- unrequited, unfulfilled and reborn.

A deeply personal coming-of-age story steeped in heady nostalgia and all the creative myopia that too often comes with it.

Flawed but undeniably provocative and brilliantly acted by Gosling.

Peter Berg's fast-talking and unnecessarily complicated tale of Middle East terrorism is more smoke and mirrors than meat. It may come on like Syriana, but it boils down to little more than a diverting episode of "CSI: Riyadh."

In real life the opportunity to make amends is rare, though the attempt may produce great art. In The Kite Runner, we get neither.

Not surprisingly, we're left with characters that feel only half sketched and fail to resonate on their own -- but onto which much can be read by Hou's most ardent fans -- in a poetic looking film that's ultimately as inflated and empty as the balloon itself.

For many, the soundtrack to this beautifully shot film will probably mark their first encounter with Traore and the intoxicating sounds of his unique brand of Malian blues. Chances are it won't be their last.

A perfect example of how a top-flight cast can compensate for unimaginative filmmaking.

A frustrating lack of details compromise this much-needed look at how the promise of American diversity failed a community of Somali refugees in a large Maine town.

By the end, it should be perfectly clear just why Cho is so loved by so many different types of people. Raunchy though her material is, it embraces all comers, regardless of gender, sexuality, race or ethnicity. And it's never been sharper — or funnier — than it is here.

In the long, hit-and-miss career of writer-director Alan Rudolph, this misbegotten comedy falls squarely into the miss bin.

Yuen would have been better off exposing more of that reality and celebrating less of the joyful silliness of the model works, let alone staging pointless hip-hop-inflected dance numbers set to Yang Ban Xi musical themes.

Equal parts "Oliver Twist" and "Pinocchio," Russian director Andrei Kravchuk's fictional hearttugger exposes a troubling real-life practice in contemporary Russia: the buying and selling of abandoned children to rich foreign couples.

No matter how slick and questionably appropriate Morris's style may be, the content is compelling.

The homoerotic twists and gender-shifting turns are fun, but they can't hide the fact that the film is little more than a tedious shaggy-dog story with oblique mythological references.

Funny, sexy and very cleverly done.

The film is little more than a stylish exercise in revisionism whose point -- we create, then destroy our own monsters in order to assure ourselves we're human -- is no doubt true, but serves as a rather thin moral to such a knowing fable.

The most affecting parts of this film are its quieter, character-driven moments, and it's beautifully acted; if there is indeed an "Argentinean New Wave" afoot, Brédice might be its Anna Karina.

The mystery is marvelous.

Steers clear of historical accuracy. Herzog is obviously looking for a moral to his fable, but the notion that a strong, unified showing among Germany and Eastern European Jews might have changed 20th-Century history is undermined by Ahola's inadequate performance.

Flawed but refreshingly intelligent.

An unexpectedly warm valentine to the solitary joy of reading in an increasingly post-literate age. It's also a gripping mystery yarn involving obsession, a long-forgotten book and a shadowy author who appears to have vanished off the face of the Earth.

Perleman has little control over his characters; they simply go to pieces in the most ludicrous ways. He has even less control over Kingsley, who soon slips into full-blown Yul Brynner mode.

Nearly 75 years after the fact, the matter still hasn't given up all its secrets, but Denis' film comes close to a definitive, deeply disturbing account.

There's terrific chemistry between Perez and Auteuil.

Kang's marvelously assured feature debut is a subtle adaptation of Ed Lin's acclaimed novel "Waylaid."

This is sentimentality of the best kind, a touching display of male bonding amid terror and aching loneliness worthy of Howard Hawks at his finest.

Aside from some unnecessarily crude stereotypes, Eddie Murphy's least-painful comedy in years has a certain peculiar charm.

The shame of it all is that Kane somehow managed to assemble an extraordinary cast, whose fine performances can't surmount the tedium of his script.

Razvi, once a pushcart vendor himself, is particularly good; he brings a visceral poignancy to a character who comes to represent every desperate soul who ever tried to make it in the land of plenty.

Yes it's as corny as Kansas in August, but this admittedly formulaic sports drama is base on a true story and has something important to say about the fate of many small Midwestern American towns whose popular sports teams fall victim to school consolidation.

The result is a rich and touching exploration of the vagaries of fortune, literary reputation and, above all, friendship that works on several levels at once. The soundtrack includes songs by Joy Division, New Order and Le Tigre.

Moviegoers expecting a conventional sci-fi fantasy will be disappointed; Haneke never explains the vague disaster, nor does he offer any definitive solution.

This modest film delivers a simple but powerful message:... the real work of creating a lasting peace must be done on an personal level, one individual at a time.

Jon Poll's harmless, occasionally entertaining debut feature.

The trouble is that if you haven't seen the other entries in the cycle, or don't have all the characters committed to memory, you'll have trouble figuring out who anybody is or, in the end, what any of it is supposed to mean.

With its quiet pacing and dry-as-a-bone wit, the film strongly recalls the deadpan comedies of Jim Jarmusch or early Hal Hartley, but it gradually reveals a welcome new sensibility, one that's entirely McCarthy's own.

Though the violence in this film never becomes physical, the psychic wounds these people inflict on one another cut so deeply you wish it would. It's a grueling experience.

Provocative, deeply unsettling mockumentary.

It's a fascinating film, simultaneously enthralling, infuriating and guaranteed to make viewers ask how such a perversion of the political process could be taking place in America.

The filmmakers don't shy away from discussing their frustrations with censorship or the depiction of women, but their work raises interesting questions about the ways in which restrictions can sometimes facilitate artistry and lead to a deeper consideration of the film's subject.

Good-natured fun; it doesn't always work, but it's not for want of trying.

Pretentious but gorgeously photographed.

In a film in which the star talks graphically about the size of her vagina and ex-lovers appear as themselves to call her a whore, there might be such a thing as too much honesty.

A mystery that's filled with genuine sorrow and capped off with a denouement that may take even seasoned mystery buffs by surprise.

Clad in dull khakis and a polo shirt, the always reliable Kinnear is his (Brosnon's) perfect foil, while Davis' neat turn as a suburban wife with a penchant for guns and the men who use them turns what might have been a cliched supporting role into something worth watching.

What's amazing is how much first-time director Ganatra and cowriter Susan Carnival get right.

It's not a great film, but let's face it: Considering the source, this is as good as it was ever going to get.

Strangest of all, Roman Polanski shows up to torture our heroes with a Paris phone book, then subject them to a full-cavity search. A gratuitous nod to "Chinatown"? Who knows? Who cares?

Thirty years down the line, not everyone looks as they once did, so even fans will have trouble putting names to aged faces. Newcomers, meanwhile, will feel hopelessly shut out.

Hypnotic, culturally pertinent drama.

Dull and unimaginative.

Achieves what Hollywood never quite gets right: a tense and timely thriller that also serves as a political and a moral allegory.

The film is, in fact, an adaptation of Anton Chekov's "The Seagull." This provenance also explains why there's something slightly old-fashioned about the whole business.

This smart political thriller gets pulses pounding with no pyrotechnics and only one car crash. And it's a doozy.

There's nothing particularly original about art-director-turned-filmmaker Ray Yeung's good-natured look at a pair of aging gay men in London, other than the fact that these men happen to be of Chinese descent. Beyond that, it's pretty much gay business as usual.

Fast paced and engagingly acted.

It's a real shame that the first half hour is a disorganized ramble that risks driving away the film's audience; a little artful editing would have gone a long way to fixing the problem.

It's a "Taxi Driver"-inspired odyssey into violence and insanity that runs close to two hours -- a long time to be riding shotgun with a madman.

Rarely has mental illness been depicted so subjectively and seemed so immediate: John's daily struggle to determine what's real and what isn't becomes as palpable as it is poignant. It's also a touching testament to the love and dedication of John's family.

This is a smart and splendidly decorated rethinking of Anna Leonowens's famous chronicle

Actress Jane Horrocks is so good in this drama that you'll hardly notice -- or care -- that the rest of the film isn't quite up to snuff.

This provocative, at times languid, documentary from German experimental filmmaker Gabriel Baur is something of travelogue through this unexplored frontier, a mixed-up, shook-up borderland where nothing, especially not an individual's gender, should be ever be taken for granted.

Ryan has a wonderful way with Hartley's often difficult dialogue, and is engaging even when the rest of the film is not

Plenty of bone-crunching brawn, but not a brain cell in sight.

It's a lovely tribute to an extraordinary talent whose music might have been forgotten, and you really couldn't ask for a more beautiful soundtrack.

So consistently awful, it's almost entertaining.

Exchanging Buddhist mantras like diet tips, they thoughtlessly destroy themselves after destroying each other.

Dazzlingly colorful.

Aside from its frank consideration of preteen sexuality, the most daring thing about Cuesta's extraordinary film is its willingness to put honest, intelligent dialogue in the mouths of kids.

Wang's film offers an interesting look at the rapidly changing face of Beijing.

The film flows like a sinister and unsettling piece of music, from gripping overture to the tightly orchestrated movements to the unforgettable coda.

Brimming with ideas, aphorisms, diatribes, film clips and even bits of a story, the film's a gorgeous muddle that somehow manages to leave one both baffled and deeply satisfied.

Adam Sandler can breathe a sigh of relief: Thanks to this crude, bafflingly unfunny comedy from fellow SNL alum Mike Myers, Sandler can rest assured that his "You Don't Mess With The Zohan" won't go down as the worst movie of 2008.

Stephens has a gentle touch and an unflagging sense of humor, but this is Rue's show: She's a natural with a million-dollar smile who deserves to escape TV land for more interesting work.

Beautifully shot and lushly scored, this may be one of the least P.C. love stories ever filmed. But it's one of the most deeply felt.

This is a creditable but disappointingly draggy war epic. It should sizzle like a fuse, but instead plods along with methodical deliberation.

More cheerful misogyny from writer-director Henry Jaglom.

Sticky sweet sentimentality, clumsy plotting and a rosily myopic view of life in the WWII-era Mississippi Delta undermine this adaptation of an unpublished novel by David Armstrong.

The surprise is how utterly original his (Woodley's) gorgeously mounted curiosity seems.

The best thing about the whole sorry enterprise is the soundtrack, which features choice tunes by Bruce Springsteen, Starsailor and, of course, Parsons himself.

Andreas' cast and crew, however, have done an admirable job of backing up that hilarious title with an intelligent little film that knows its limitations and makes the most of a shoestring budget.

Harrowing but enormously empathetic.

Chock full of personality and irreverent detail.

Faithfull is marvelous: Once notorious for her own escapades, this great-great-niece of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch is no shrinking violet, but she's perfect as a plump, frumpy widow with a huge heart and a hidden talent no one would ever suspect.

Strikingly authentic, socially conscious crime drama.

Breillat also offers sharp insights into the love-hate relationship between directors and actors.

The story the film has to tell is an outrage, but it never devolves into a sputtering tirade.

If you know there's so such place as Avenue E in the East Village, or if you've ever taken a bath in your kitchen, this one's for you.

Now seen for the first time in close-up, these "boys" are well past adolescence, which makes Bennett's sympathy for poor Hector a bit easier to take.

The script too often sounds like an encrypted communique itself, and it's tiring trying to keep all the nonsensical space-jargon straight. The effort is more demanding than hanging onto a joystick, and not entirely worth the effort.

This rich, complex and surprisingly entertaining film also becomes a meditation on filmmaking and the parallels McElwee finds between cinema and, of all things, smoking.

Fanciful and highly entertaining docudrama.

The results are only so-so.

Shot for next to nothing, Buck's film features some lovely cinematography, two strong performances from newcomers Monda and Kelly, and a funny bit by Nancy Daly as Roberta's sweet 'n' sour boss.

The plot itself isn't really strong enough to stand alone. And that leaves the film an essentially conventional whodunit, if one with a rather unconventional sleuth at its center.

This curiously empty film was awarded the Jury Prize at the 1997 Cannes film festival.

After reminding us that the AIDS crisis in the West is far from over in "The Event," Fitzgerald widened his scope with this much-needed perspective on the global dimensions the disease has achieved. Despite the importance and seriousness of the subject, there's plenty of Fitzgerald's brand of sly humor on hand, particularly in the scenes involving the Quebecoise porn industry.

An effectively macabre and fiendishly entertaining tale of lust, unrequited love and the fine art of taxidermy.

The result is yet another tired, ultimately incoherent horror movie that undoes the promise of its pretty good premise and potentially interesting story structure with dull scares, sloppy ending and a pair of unconvincing, leaden lead performances.

If nothing else, this utterly charming -- if ultimately inconsequential -- road picture proves that there is such a thing as German romantic comedy.

Thanks to some first-rate acting from its stars, it ranks among Perry's best.

Thanks largely to Tabatabai's superb performance, it's on this level that Maccarone's film is most affecting.

Harrowing, psychologically astute drama.

Catania and Ignacio's film works best on the level of straightforward biography told through the reminiscences of friends, family, members of Busch's Lost-in-Limbo theatrical troupe and, best of all, Busch himself.

The movie deals superficially with Native American pride and racism in the ranks, but it's hardly about the codetalkers at all: Neither Woo nor the screenwriting team of Joe Batteer and John Rice seem to appreciate the bitter irony in a Native American soldier protecting his land by serving the very government that took most of it from him in the first place.

Broad, hackneyed and stultifyingly predictable.

The result is a beguiling and often poignant pageant of outsider musicians, but the broken heart of this extraordinary film comes directly from Zobel's own personal experience.

A superb performance from Torreton, easily one of the finest actors working in France today.

Winner of the John Cassavetes Award for Best Feature Under $500K at the 2006 Independent Spirit Awards, Henry's film is beautifully shot and extraordinarily well acted by Williams.

Grisly, yes, but it's all done in fun; having tried his hardest to shock audiences with his previous films, it now appears Miike simply wants to entertain, and he pulls out all the stops.

It's beautifully shot -- the sweat-drenched jukejoint scenes are particularly evocative -- and features a terrific performance by Ricci, one that deserves to be seen by a wider audience than the one certain to be reeled in by those torrid ads.

Superbly acted by everyone involved (Rhames does his best work since "Pulp Fiction"), the film is really more about character than plot, though frankly, at more than two hours, it could have used a bit more of the latter.

Allen Loeb's first produced screenplay is an unvarnished treatment of death and its aftermath that's unusual for a Hollywood film.

As complex as the issue it tackles.

Rough, breathless adaptation of Fernando Vallejo's ferociously sardonic novel.

Its subject -- ethnic profiling during a time of international crisis -- could hardly be more contemporary.

The real stars of the film are Francois Emmanuelli's vibrant production design, Klapisch's flair with inventive optical effects and above all Barcelona itself, captured here in all its baroque brilliance.

Despite outward appearances, Paolo Virzi's utterly charming fable is actually a razor-sharp political satire.

Stony and statuesque, Michelini is an excellent casting choice: Her impassive face and dispassionate voice serve as a carefully constructed protective mask that hides her pain, and which she rarely lets slip.

Lee obviously wants to portray Ethan as something other than the dutiful No. 1 son, but Ethan isn't entirely convincing as a doped-up street hustler.

It took a century of innovation in the field of cinematic special effects, but finally the head of Marlon Wayans could be successfully grafted onto the body of a baby.

Charming, if slight, Venus-and-Mars romantic comedy.

Ending the film with a perfunctory run-through of Lennon's murder on the doorstep of his Manhattan apartment building, however, foregrounds an unfortunate irony: Had the INS succeeded in forcing Lennon out of the U.S., he might be alive today.

The case is a convincing one, and should give anyone with a conscience reason to pause.

It's an old story, but at a time when high-school-aged athletes are wooed away from real-life with staggering, multi-million dollar endorsement deals, it's one that bears repeating.

The pressure often shows: For all its charm, the dramatic moments are awkward and the final act feels rushed and under rehearsed.

Long expert at unforgettable characterizations, Techine turns his talents toward creating an evocative sense of time and mood.

A sleek and sublimely deadpan comedy of Japanese corporate manners.

Zizek as a larger-than-life figure who manages to engage you even when you're not entirely sure what he's going on about.

Lee has perfectly captured the details, textures, sights and sounds of a China caught between East and West, occupied by an ancient enemy and quaking on the eve of an earth-shaking revolution.

Beautifully shot on location in Kenya and filled with touching, almost magical moments, Link's film has been nominated for the 2002 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language film.

Characters lip-synch their dialogue -- badly.

Is there anything remotely new left to be said about the world's oldest profession?

Meng's film, which uses a fairly sophisticated flashback structure to reveal the secrets of Ah Na's past in China, touches on a number of very serious subjects: the business of illegal immigration, the exploitation of "aliens" and the treatment of people with AIDS in China. But it's also filled with touches of humor.

A torrid and surprisingly cinematic chamber piece.

Peter Askin's powerful documentary serves as an important reminder of our First Amendment rights, and a tribute to one man who fought to preserve them in the face of Congressional intimidation.

Frei assembles a fascinating profile of a deeply humanistic artist who, in spite of all that he's witnessed, remains surprisingly idealistic, and retains an extraordinary faith in the ability of images to communicate the truth of the world around him.

Virgil's naïveté isn't entirely believable, but his essential goodness is, thanks to a solid performance by Jordan, and that's really what makes this modern urban tragedy unusually affecting.

Fictional but frighteningly realistic.

What could easily have been a dry, didactic film is granted unusual power by Cantet's cast, all of whom seem to innately understand the personal nature of Cantet's subject.

It hits more often than it misses, and the best parts are always the simplest, in which the stars wing it with nothing to go on but their natural chemistry.

The film desperately needs a stronger script; one with a few funny jokes would be nice.

The movie more than compensates for its biographical deficiencies with thrilling footage of a recent reunion concert which finds the Funk Brothers still in top form.

No one can quite capture that decay -- the guilty conscience that can freeze the blood of even the most reputable of France's bourgeois families -- better than Chabrol, and this the master at his best.

Both Hesses and a surprisingly large number of their very talented cast and crew are graduates of Brigham Young University's film program: Could BYU one day join the esteemed ranks of USC and NYU?

Cheung, slinking around the corridors of her hotel in her sheath of shiny black latex to the dissonant chords of Sonic Youth, is an instant icon of everything.

Like his intrepid hero, theater-turned-film director Ekachai Uekrongtham never misses an opportunity to brighten an otherwise ordinary palette with just a bit more color.

It's a fascinating, infuriating story, and despite the fact that Greenstreet occasionally wanders off subject it's a brave and highly commendable effort that's chock-full of chilling moments.

For a film that feels so breezy on the surface, it's a surprisingly complex character study.

Ever hear of a rock musical that actually rocked? John Cameron Mitchell's glorious adaptation of his acclaimed Off-Broadway show might be a first.

Hamburger's earnest effort offers interesting perspectives on Jewish life in South America's most populous city as well as the fate of political dissidents during a particularly dark period of Brazil's recent past.

The entirely computer-generated Hulk is a surprisingly expressive creation — it certainly gives a better performance than Connelly — but the action is late in coming and feels like a long set-up for the inevitable sequel.

With its porno plot, Undressed production values and ersatz "Will & Grace" banter that manages to be crude without being the least bit funny, Q. Allan Brocka's debut is a tasteless comedy that nevertheless leaves a nasty flavor on the tongue.

Still passable popcorn fare, even if you'll barely taste it before swallowing.

Even those who dismiss Von Trier as a talented sadist might reconsider after seeing this revealing and ultimately poignant documentary -- and the funny thing is, on the surface it's not even about him.

Blends history and mystery into an entertaining, if somewhat slight, romance.

An engaging bit of entertainment.

Actor-turned-first-time-filmmaker Liev Schreiber tosses out most of what made Jonathan Safran Foer's too-clever-by-half debut novel so precious, rooting out the heart of Foer's story from the precocious bombast.

Actor Tim Roth's austere directing debut is one of the most difficult, emotionally wrenching experiences you're likely to have in a movie theater any time soon.

For all its crime-story elements, this richly colored, beautifully shot film is really a story of the friendship between Singer and the kid he calls ZigZag, a relationship made all the more poignant by the fact that Singer is very sick.

This is a powerful, important and, in the end, profoundly poignant movie dedicated to the lives of men and women who fight wars and shoulder the burden of becoming "heroes" to help the rest of us make sense of what remains incomprehensible.

Serious stuff indeed, but the film is also rich with humor -- most of it courtesy of the always-excellent Greene -- and ends with an act of vandalism as shocking as it is exhilarating.

While this extraordinary, 90-minute film -- culled from over 10 hours of footage -- offers few revelations about Hitler's private life, it provides a fascinating glimpse into the psychology of a follower who remained blindly obedient until the bitter end.

Some of the humor is pretty raunchy (there are quite a few sex-related scenes and jokes) and tasteless. Adults old enough to appreciate the choice electro-boogaloo soundtrack and get the "Mr. Roboto" jokes will doubtless find the rest of it painfully dumb.

It's handsomely shot by Stuart Dryburgh and nicely acted, and if it tastes a bit bland, you'll soon forget that, along with just about everything else about it.

It all amounts to something less than an 80-minute Calvin Klein advertisement.

You won't see anything quite like it from any other filmmaker working today.

As a treatment of yet another unexplored corner of the Nazi nightmare, the film is revelatory; needless to say it's also heartbreaking.

Touched with eerie dream sequences, the film casts a strange spell that's enhanced by the rhythmic, almost sensual depiction of the painstaking art of embroidery.

Béart and Berling are both superb, while Huppert -- imperious as a woman who turns her world into a moral prison to prove a point -- is magnificent.

It's never dull -- beautifully acted and handsomely shot in sepia-toned Cinemascope.

Poitras boldly dispenses with the traditional documentary voice-over, but her film is filled with telling moments that are far more eloquent than any scripted narration.

It begins with a stale Hitler joke and ends with a miraculous quick-save that demonstrates just how poorly the Holocaust is served by the life-affirming requirements of Hollywood features.

A small comic masterpiece that dares to deal with that of which many Sicilians dare not speak: the Mafia.

All three actresses are simply dazzling, particularly Balk, who's finally been given a part worthy of her considerable talents.

Hate the holidays? You're in luck: Here's a bottomed-out Santa story.

Surprisingly, it works: The overwhelming natural expanse of the New Mexico desert is perfectly balanced by the psychic space Charley and Arlene create - the space where all the real action takes place.

Some four decades after the birth of the gay-rights movement, the excess and sexual abandon of gay life in the '70s seems more an aberration than an accurate picture of out-and-about gay life at the end of the 20th century.

Throughout the film, doors slam, windows shatter and poor, battered Betsy wakes up screaming with tiresome regularity; even Sutherland appears bored by it all.