Marc Mohan

There's an inherent contradiction at the film's core: this sexually explicit motion picture, seemingly made by and for altered consciousnesses, is all about how an innocent newcomer falls prey to gin, sex, and television.

The most telling moment comes when his mother reveals that, despite all the subterfuge and false promises, she wouldn't have had it any other way.

Django doesn't have the razor-sharp chronological complexity of "Pulp Fiction," but it's ably paced. A very funny scene involving a proto-Ku Klux Klan lynch mob and their poorly made hoods nevertheless seems a bit out of place, but there's plenty of well-timed suspense.

Idris Elba exudes the requisite militaristic authority as Raleigh's commanding officer, and Rinko Kikuchi is his determined partner in mecha mayhem.

The style and subject matter recall the films of the Dardenne brothers, ("The Kid With a Bike") and while Sister never reaches the heights of their best work, it earns the comparison.

As an artist who can craft an ebullient postmodern pastiche but maintains links to an idiosyncratic heritage, Amirpour has instantly become one of the most exciting, globally relevant filmmakers working today. Her film is a testament both to her own creativity and the infinite elasticity of the vampire mythos.

To top it all off, the movie ends with one of the best covers of "I Shall Be Released" you'll hear, courtesy of gospel singer Marion Williams.

With gadgets, girls and globe-trotting held to a minimum, Skyfall, could, for long stretches, be mistaken for just another 21st-century thriller, albeit a well-made and intelligent one.

The experience of psychological depression has been described with a variety of metaphors. William Styron called it "darkness visible," and Winston Churchill euphemized his bouts as "the black dog." In typically grandiose fashion, though, Lars von Trier tops them all.

Most of the time, Goodnight Mommy creates its air of supreme unease quietly, even subtly, but even hardened horror fans might be shocked by some of what goes down in the movie's second half.

Mostly this film is a glorious ode to the culture and family bonds that override all else, and to the expressiveness of both the human and animal actors.

When the movie is funny, it’s very funny.

A funny, believable film about the ability of even the damaged and imperfect to earn a little happiness.

The merits of its arguments can be debated on the Op-Ed pages, but at least the movie makes it clear that they desperately need to be.

A haunting, melancholy fable, Tony Takitani is the kind of film that could seem tedious from a mere description. Approached with the right mind-set, however, it's a hypnotic mood piece on love and loss, one that knows -- at 75 minutes -- not to overstay its welcome.

Z for Zachariah has things to say about the tugs-of-war between science and spirituality, thought and action, men and women. It's just not exactly sure what they are.

A joy to watch.

The first of von Trier's efforts to be certifiably farcical.

The end result is the best documentary you'll see this year, as thrilling a competition as any Super Bowl and as suspenseful a story as any Hitchcock film.

White God holds some fascination. But as an indictment of the evil that men do, it's all bark and no bite.

An unforgettable experience.

The credibility of these theories ranges from faintly plausible to frankly ridiculous, but Ascher isn't interested in judging them; his movie is more about the joys of deconstruction and the special kind of obsession that movies can inspire.

Being a fairly faithful adaptation, this version also has a lot of that other stuff about the hypocrisy of civilized life, the truthfulness of natural splendor and so forth.

Only in the slightly overlong last act, as the family's misfortunes become truly existential, does director Kiyoshi Kurosawa take things to another level. Whether this is an extension of the film's social criticism, a comment on the absurdity of melodrama or straightforward audience manipulation, is anyone's guess.

This was a story that made front pages in its day but has been largely lost to history, and now is brought bracingly and compellingly back to life.

Among the Dardennes' more accessible films, despite a drawn-out finale that still doesn't quite satisfy.

West of Memphis does nothing to displace its predecessor films as masterpieces of investigative filmmaking, but complements them as a riveting capstone to an epic and tragic tale.

For those to whom life is but a stage, this will be sweet, sweet candy; to those of us destined to be their audience, it's a satisfying, if flawed, look behind the curtain.

A decent-enough treat for fans of this particular Gallic genre.

So, be warned: You may not learn anything from this mild, unremarkable film, but you might be tempted to order the deluxe, four-volume “The Complete Calvin and Hobbes” after watching it. I was, and I don’t regret it a bit.

John Hawkes has, until now, been known primarily as the skilled character actor who brought an earthy authenticity to roles on TV's "Deadwood" and the Oscar-nominated "Winter's Bone." With The Sessions, he makes his mark as a bona fide member of screen acting's elite. And he does it while barely moving a muscle.

Pride should leave audiences smiling and inspired. But it would have been a much more groundbreaking film if it had been released 30 years ago.

Cheadle's performance elevates Hotel Rwanda, making it a film that does justice to the tragedy it commemorates.

If there's one thing missing, it's a sense of purposeful, immediate outrage. You can't help but wonder why this film wasn't made 20 years ago, when it could have saved these men some time behind bars.

Controversy aside, there's no denying that Kinsey was a pivotal figure in 20th-century America, and one whose fascinating story makes for a fascinating film.

The two stories never come close to meshing the way the filmmaker intended. The result is a well-acted movie that simply doesn't gel.

Youth may be wasted on some of the young, but the two aspiring Norwegian novelists at the center of Reprise, director Joachim Trier's debut feature, try desperately to avoid that particular cliche.

Highly entertaining chronicle of a dream unfilmed.

It's a treat to be diverted by a film that actually has a brain.

The real star is Attah, a Ghanaian street kid plucked from obscurity, who imbues Agu with just the right mix of terror, brutality and the last remaining vestiges of boyish innocence.

In the annals of monster movies, one name stands above all the rest, way above: Godzilla.

Plot takes a back seat to style and attitude, as it often does in Jarmuch's world, which can make the last half-hour of the movie drag a bit. But when that means getting to hang out with two fascinating creatures of the night, played by two fascinating performers, that's a perfectly valid trade-off.

Bell does a fantastic job of telling a thoroughly feminist story without being strident or didactic.

A film this heartfelt and intelligent about social justice will never be unimportant, but it feels especially relevant today.

The black-and-white cinematography and silent-film feel are haunting and nostalgic, and Aurora's story encapsulates a broader, bittersweet truth about the perils of tinted memory.

It proves the power of a good story, both to entertain us and to allow us to process unpleasant truths.

The clichés at its core make Metalhead something less than a full-bore, head-banging triumph. But it does perform the service of reminding us that even Judas Priest is capable of saving souls, and any film that features a cross-generational dance-off to Megadeth's "Symphony of Destruction" can't be all bad.

There seems to be less acting going on and more being, which not only makes this an enormously affecting penultimate performance (Gandolfini’s final film, “Animal Rescue,” will be released next year), but reinforces the brilliance of the darker work for which he will no doubt remain best known.

With solid performances, competent direction and artfully drab cinematography, the film would be indistinguishable from a Hollywood thriller if not for the Flemish dialogue. It's no surprise to learn that an American remake is in the works.

Sleeping with Other People turns out to be more entertaining than it sounds. The movie, that is.

Intense, well-acted love story.

You might not be able to picture yourself in such a life, but you'll be glad that it persists.

Even the finest troupe of thespians would be wasted without Allen's guiding hand as writer and director. But Blue Jasmine, which might rank among Allen's 10 best films, shows what can happen when it all comes together.

The results are inspiring, demonstrating that an artistic eye is an innate thing.

Only in its final moments does Breathe extend its reach beyond experiences that most, if not all, teens (and ex-teens) can relate to. When it does, it might just leave you breathless.

It's a riveting character study/soap opera.

To dismiss Ex Machina as just another robot movie would be like calling the Grand Canyon a hole in the ground. It's one of the most original, smart, thought-provoking science fiction movies of recent years.

In Morvern Callar, the subject matter may be morbid and unappealing, but the director handles it with a visual poetry and an eye for hidden beauty that marks a filmmaker of the first order.

It's a pleasant, engaging version of probably the closest thing to a sitcom the Bard ever penned.

What's different here is the setting: Instead of modern-day misogyny, the heroine of The Last Mistress is up against its 19th-century version.

There will always be plenty of fictional geniuses solving impossible crimes, but Holmes, it turns out, it where the heart is.

There's much to admire here, but less to like.

Herzog's drive to bring Dengler's story to a wide audience might have paradoxically caused him to do what he seems normally to abhor: compromise.

It's also exhausting, despite an engaging premise.

Isn't a complete waste of time. If Kutcher seeks to transition from national joke to lightweight actor, he's made a decent stab at it.

The resulting documentary is a fascinating meditation on the different ways nature can be experienced, as well as a fatalistic take on the process of our planet's seemingly inevitable change in climate.

As far as a coherent, hilarious story line, as well as sheer blasphemous glee, you can't do much better than "Life of Brian."

It wouldn’t be surprising to hear about moviegoers demanding their money back after seeing The Dallas Buyers Club, but not because the film isn’t good. It’s actually very nearly great.

The cinematic gloss serves to heighten our involvement in the tale, and to mark Fukunaga as a talent to be reckoned with.

Grandma is a movie that, for what it's worth, gets an A+ on the Bechdel test. Writer-director Paul Weitz may still be cashing residual checks for the "American Pie" movies, but this is his most heartfelt, successful effort since 2002's "About a Boy."

The edited footage has an intensity and immediacy you won't find on cable news networks.

Moving and suspenseful.

A Band Called Death is more effective as a chronicle of the intensely close relationship between three musically ambitious brothers than as proto-punk archaeology.

Of all the roles where the star has played a character transformed from ordinary to goofy ("The Mask," "Me, Myself & Irene," "Liar Liar"), this is the one where he seems the most human, achieving that elusive quality in a Carrey film: tolerability.

This film could serve as a potent tool for those trying to change 40 years of public policy.

The only danger with a movie like this is the inevitably disappointing return to more humdrum reality once it ends.

It’s a harrowing and impressive accomplishment (especially considering potential government censorship), and it shows how, in its mad rush toward modernity, China has become a land of haves and have-nots, where income inequality and lack of opportunity have made a mockery of the nation’s purported ideals. Sound familiar?

Effective, fact-based melodrama that packs an unexpected emotional wallop.

If your tolerance for envelope-pushing crudeness and deadpan delirium allows it, this crass comedy might be just what the gastroenterologist ordered.

Bay seems to have been gunning for something along the lines of "Blood Simple" or "A Simple Plan," but Pain & Gain is just plain simple.

Like its 2010 predecessor, it's one of the most gorgeous computer-animated kids' films you'll come across, and one of the few that uses 3-D smartly and effectively.

Even more impressive is young Tequan Richmond (TV’s “Everybody Hates Chris”) as the quiet, intense Malvo, a kid so desperate for a father figure in his life that he becomes putty in the hands of a killer.

Brittain's life and literary output are worthy of celebration, and there's no better time that the centenary of "The War to End All Wars" to commemorate its bloody folly. It's a shame that Testament of Youth does both in such a bloodless way.

Like Someone in Love meanders with intention toward a bittersweet resolution, but then pulls the rug out from under you in a cruelly ambiguous shot.

A perfectly irreverent counterpoint to movies that take their superheroes a bit too seriously.

Shortland, whose only previous feature was 2004's coming-of-age drama "Somersault," creates a visceral, immersive environment and draws a very impressive performance from newcomer Saskia Rosendahl.

There's a Gordon Gekko vibe to Shannon's reptilian, charismatic villain. Like Oliver Stone's "Wall Street," 99 Homes understands that people don't sell their souls because they're inherently evil — they do it because being rich is cool.

A well-acted, convincing portrait of a successful but overworked film producer.

A crowd-pleasing import that would leave only the most steadfast curmudgeon unmoved.

Moncrieff's story remains fresh despite the familiarity of its general outline. This is mostly due to the skilled performances she elicits; even when the unfolding events have been seen many times before, watching human beings react realistically never gets old.

Without passing moral judgments on either group, Cartel Land provides a vivid illustration of the dangers inherent whenever a government fails to meet its citizens' needs to the extent that they take matters into their own hands.

Today, Randi's stooped, gnomish gait and expansive white beard give him the appearance of a Tolkien wizard, but the man's passion for rationality and for exposing fraud and misbelief are stronger than ever. An Honest Liar is a fitting tribute to a figure whose stamina and wit only appear to be magical.

He's an engaging, profane interview subject, and a complex guy, self-described as both a "pervert" and a "romantic," sexually omnivorous, a Goldwater Republican before being drafted and sent to Vietnam, a McCarthyite peacenik afterward.

These three central performances, and a solid script by Anders Thomas Jensen and director Susanne Bier, ground a potentially overwrought story in genuine feeling.

Giamatti, in fact, makes off with a few scenes as the literally mustache-twirling antagonist, providing some welcome moments of over-the-top levity.

Politics aside, Obvious Child hinges on Slate's performance, which is endearing and real.

The result is both a captivating history lesson and a tense intellectual thriller that dares to ask big questions about creativity and technology.

Spoofing the pernicious effects of television, especially the so-called reality genre, doesn't require pinpoint aim, and at times Luciano seems as much a target of ridicule as the superficial, oversexed entertainment served up on the tube.