Lisa Schwarzbaum

Exquisitely structured, pitiless study of a middle-aged man trapped in a stagnant emotional weather pattern.

Out of a harrowing story set in a foreign thicket, Herzog has found American beauty.

A moderately adorable, musically wacky, ecologically activist CG family comedy.

A mesmerizing work of disturbing power and unease.

Ballard, working from a screenplay by Robert Rodat and Vince McKewin, lets the melancholy hang in the air with a few too many poetic shots of the lonely girl. But as Thomas teaches Amy how to spread her wings, any lacy sentimentality (as well as the jarring tree-hugger subplot about meanie land developers) falls away, revealing the soaring beauty of the flying sequences.

A warm and honest portrait of a marriage at its most mysterious, and ordinary.

Pfeiffer reveals an emotional nakedness that's almost shocking. Never has she exposed so much and done it so simply. Who knew she could be this good?

Also starring: the landscape, beautifully photographed by cinematographer Lu Yue. The look is rosily glamorous in sophisticated Shanghai, and mistily poetic on the quiet island to which the mobster and his party escape.

Each episode (originally made for British TV) works by itself, but there's a real payoff in following all three. (Nothing matches The "Wire," but this holds its own.)

Well-made film. Indeed, discovering such a small pleasure is the kind of experience that rewards film lovers who browse with open eyes as well as hearts.

Satisfying, melancholy political suspense story.

Genre-hoppers like Steven Soderbergh ought to love this neat triple doozy. [Note: From a review of the entire trilogy.]

The grand old filmmaker frames each scene like a fine painting. And fake snow falls with happy artificiality between rueful vignettes.

With the pitiless, devastating Fat Girl, Catherine Breillat puts men and women, boys and girls on notice: When fantasy, hypocrisy, and manipulation mix in a wet, sandy place, you dive into sex at your own risk.

It ought to be seen, because it's a work of moral and spiritual mystery.

Smith transfers an Iowa-based short story by Randy Russell to India's western Goa region -- and works in Hindi, primarily with novice actors. The result is a story both authentically specific and profoundly global.

Forget "Monty Python," You Don't Mess With the Zohan is a circus that never really flies.

This unsentimental, smartly assembled film is equally attentive to the cacophony of African poverty and the balm of harmony provided by these pied pipers of hope.

Director Ira Sachs moves to the rhythms of his native Memphis, teasing emotional resonance out of geography.

Wan, generically pretty adaptation of Alessandro Baricco's 1996 novel.

Lacks confidence in its own much bigger, potentially fascinating story -- an American tale of pageantry and history.

The mangy joke in the defiantly homemade documentary 95 Miles to Go is that Ray Romano on a business trip is no different from any other schmo, minus the autograph signing.

The blessings of salvation have rarely felt so mixed, the parameters of Lolita-hood so elusive - which is exactly Martel's specialty.

A great subject goes a long way in this standard but effective entry in the amazing-kids documentary category.

Mostly about slapping together a bunch of clichés -- outdated clichés at that -- regarding the loneliness of ambitious women.

A small, heartfelt film.

It isn't easy to get close to these two women. But the effort yields a rewarding take on the resiliency and therapeutic importance of friendship.

Many of the characters go by two different names. So best advice for optimum viewing is, see Broken Embraces...twice.