Kevin Maynard

A hilarious and utterly faboo documentary...you'll be begging for more.

A meticulously mounted film that retains the author's ambiguous characterizations yet is still emotionally accessible.

Worth navigating for its refusal to play to the crowd. There's certainly nothing safe or sweet about Weaver's performance.

Perhaps most depressingly, in pulling out all the stops for an ugly, violent climax, he (Schumacher) cheapens this vividly drawn slice of life, turning it into a tiresomely flawed, garden-variety vigilante thriller.

Despite good performances and moments of spectacle, it seems to go on longer than the Cultural Revolution.

Good old-fashioned romantic entertainment, just restrained enough to skirt schmaltz.

A matted hairball of a kiddie flick that's alternately maudlin and slapstickishly violent.

Almereyda never plays up the gimmickry at the expense of the performances, and as a result, his movie largely succeeds, despite an overabundance of pretentious pokes at our consumer culture and the risky casting of Ethan Hawke in the lead role.

Game boys and girls will be disappointed by this fast-paced but shockingly dull adaptation.

The total lack of sexual chemistry between them doesn't help. Frankly, I'd rather see Scott Thomas play a nun than sit through another one of these turgid romancers.

Too poignant and funny to be dismissed.

Offers nothing but tired "Red Shoe" Diaries-style sexploitation for the art-house crowd.

A bit too bloodless to howl about.

Russell has combined pathos, terror, and black comedy with a dollop of Hollywood feel-good patriotism to make one of the best studio efforts this year.

The narrative disjointedness is not at all relieved by confusing editing, an uncertain tone, and a dragging pace that makes the film a progressively dreary experience.

Cho is raw, uncensored, and side-splittingly hilarious.

In its attempts to chart a young girl's journey from innocence to experience, The Invisible Circus ends up having all the heft of a Nancy Drew mystery decked out in a tie-dyed T-shirt and peasant skirt.

Hits the wall and runs off the rails. They should've stuck to shtick.

Contains more than a handful of big laughs and a highly charismatic cast that knows how to put them over.

Only really comes to exuberant life during the musical numbers.

Relevant message aside, there's no good reason to sit through photographer Neal Slavin's directorial debut.

Despite impeccable performances, this is bloodless, ho-hum stuff.

Actually, it's a childhood "A Clockwork Orange," a reverent realization of the late Stanley Kubrick's final obsession.

Wholly predictable and implausible plotting, thin characterizations, and stilted dialogue.

That rarest of independent films -- it's risky and exciting.

Ultimately, Grateful Dawg will only be of real interest to musicology students and diehard Deadheads.

Stomps the summer movie competition with heart and humor.

A seven-course melodrama.

Deserves to be applauded for not casting Freddie Prinze Jr., but this sloppy, somnolent, strung-together flick pales when compared to such other teenage riffs on classic literature as "Clueless" and "10 Things I Hate About You."

There's nothing more incendiary than the reopening of a forgotten chapter of history --nothing more incendiary than telling the truth.

For all its wit and sharp casting, State and Main is way too pleased with itself to be funny or endearing.

An exhilarating and at times operatic film.

"Run mad whenever you choose, but do not faint," Austen wrote in her early journals. Despite its brazen politics, Mansfield Park never goes giddily amok as promised.

It's all well-acted and eerily compelling, but the shocker ending is patently implausible.

That's just not enough to recommend it, though it does have one moment of real justice: The person sentenced to jail has truly bad hair.

Sentenced its audience to a maudlin death.

An entertaining but insubstantial romantic thriller loaded with Euro-chic trappings and no small amount of sex appeal.

A bright, lively picture.

The flutes soar a little too often, but Yimou's film is genuinely moving.

Beautifully performed and filmed, but tiresomely schematic episodes like this one cause us to experience major sensory deprivation.

An elegant, haunting folktale.

Plays like mediocre outtakes from better bell-bottomed fare (Richard Linklater's authentic, seriocomic "Dazed and Confused"; Fox's "That '70s Show") without making any kind of impression of its own.

A barrage of dangling plot strands, inconsistent characterizations, and suspense-free shootouts.

A chronic snore. My advice: Roll a fatty and re-rent the first one.

Goran Visnjic is such a sensitive, non-menacing gentleman that any woman would want him as her own personal blackmailer.

Billed cleverly as a comedy from the heart that goes for the throat. If only Brooks had had the guts to avoid the schmaltz.

This is slight stuff, but the legions of budding Scorseses and Kevin Smiths might actually learn a little something, and they will certainly enjoy a chortle or two -- even if it is at their own expense.

Eventually succumbs to fatal overlength.