Marc Mohan

Is it a worthwhile movie? Yes, for the most part.

Lee Marvin does the best acting of his life as Hickey, the usual life of the party who shows up this year sober and intent on ridding his drunken pals of their "pipe dreams." [04 Apr 2003]

Throughout, Sophie exhibits the quality common to all of history's great martyrs, a preternatural calmness that perseveres despite (or perhaps because of) the inevitability of her doom.

Neither the social commentary nor the story ever overpower the other, a feat that allows this remake to stand proudly alongside the original, its equal in every way.

Overall, though, the combination of Gondry’s whimsicality and Chomsky’s stoicism creates fascinating oil-and-water patterns that reveal more the longer they’re contemplated.

If Young at Heart were merely a cheeky presentation of codgers belting out inappropriate tunes, it would be a curiosity and nothing more. But by getting inside the lives of a few of its members, the movie ultimately paints a moving portrait of senior citizens who believe it's better to burn out than fade away.

They could have made a harder-hitting, more realistic film, but then no one would have gone to see it.

Weitz does it again here, turning what could have been another manifesto of liberal guilt into a genuinely moving tale of a father and son banding together in a hostile world.

Director Sini Anderson compiles interviews with Hanna and her husband, Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz, as well as archival footage, into an admiring portrait of a sometimes combative figure.

It's a topic that's been handled in films before, perhaps most notably in Jane Campion's "Holy Smoke," but Durkin offers the most persuasively believable peek into the psyche of such a character I've ever seen.

A second helping of a satisfying dish.

This story could take place anywhere there are families struggling to remake themselves in the aftermath of tragedy; its universality is perhaps the most potent political message of all.

It's not a question of Lucas' right to revamp his own work -- the movie simply was much better without these absurd additions.

At a full three hours, the movie flirts with wearing out its welcome about two-thirds through, but recovers to end up an exhausting, operatic black comedy that leaves you wanting more.

Sweet Land brushes against the true spirit of American independent cinema.

Fiennes and screenwriter Abi Morgan deserve credit for crafting something more nuanced than a mere scandal-airing demonization.

Like Brad Pitt and Robert Redford, Gere's good looks have made it hard sometimes to recognize his acting ability, but it's on full display here in what is anything but a vanity project.

The movie, like the man, seems more interested in spreading the gospel of environmental responsibility, and in doing so it's probably the most important film of the year.

Park is a visual virtuoso, with imaginative transitions and clever use of special effects wrapped around a sly, effective performance from Lee at the center of it all.

What really separates Zatoichi from a run-of-the-mill action pic is the sense of humor -- and even more than that, the sense of fun -- that Kitano brings to it.

Some of the combat scenes work, including a kitchen-set hand-to-hand battle that's one of the movie's highlights, but more often they feel superfluous at best.

The movie's centerpiece and peak is the operation itself, which Reichardt depicts with the pulse-pounding patience of a classic heist sequence like that in "Rififi."

By the time the satisfying conclusion rolls around, though, it proves to be much more about the ability of a world-class director to induce such willing suspension of disbelief that even the loopiest narrative developments seem like the most natural thing in the world.

Behind the on-field shenanigans and eccentric personalities, there's a meatier story about the corporatization of sports and the disappearance of the barnstorming attitude Bing Russell took as a virtual religion.

The story of Matt VanDyke, as told in the fascinating documentary Point and Shoot, is a vivid illustration of the ups and downs of reinvention.

Hers is a sad story, but the fact that she never received recognition during her lifetime isn't part of its sadness.

Director Jan Hrebejk and screenwriter Petr Jarchovsky ("Divided We Fall," "Up and Down") have crafted another well-observed tale, one with no heroes or villains, just people trying to make something of the situations in which they find themselves. And, with a nicely ambiguous ending, it's drama enough.

The whole thing unfolds with sadistic precision, but Edgerton's expert manipulation makes it a fun ride nonetheless.

Hold onto your hats, True Believers! This one's got the most massive, momentous montage of Marvel's merry mutants ever mashed into one movie!

Compelling both as a chronicle of guerrilla filmmaking and as a son's movie about his father, it presents a clear-eyed, warts-and-all view of artistic obsession.

Trainwreck doesn't try to reinvent the wheel so much as rotate the tires of comedy.

The quality that made her an ideal fan club president makes her an endearing, if unenlightening, interviewee.

A volatile film. But it's not a specifically political one. With only superficial alteration, it could be set in Cold War Berlin, or colonial Boston, or any time and place where the dynamics of power conspire to create an atmosphere of paranoia and mistrust.

Most impressively, "Rogue Nation" keeps the body count minimal.

Engaging characters, an unforced pro-girl agenda and amusing songs make this at least the equal to last year’s “Brave.”

Wiig, following the big-screen breakthrough of "Bridesmaids," has dipped her toes into dramatic waters, but for Hader, The Skeleton Twins is a revelation.

Frankenweenie seems like a genuine effort to pass along this love to the next generation, and if one kid who sees it goes home and demands to watch another movie featuring a giant turtle, it will have done its job.

Powerfully explores the struggles faced by those whom DNA testing has exonerated after years behind bars.

Reaches truly terrifying heights as it becomes clear how possible the worst outcome can be. Like "Pan's Labyrinth," this is a movie about children made very much for adults.

The result is a solid film, but one that remains more interesting than intense.

A distancing cynicism has been slathered over the story's maudlin core, with the hope perhaps that between these two conventional extremes resides a genuine emotional truth. That may be the case, but "Wilbur" doesn't quite get to it.

Like "The Reader," this film treads unsteadily over the terrain of German guilt.

Ultimately, though, this is a story about a conflicted, intelligent, flawed, moral woman making her way through her life.

It’s disappointing that, with such talent and seriousness of intent, the movie ultimately doesn't have much new to say. To paraphrase “The Simpsons”’ Milhouse, it started out like "Bonnie and Clyde," but instead it ended in tragedy.

This is more Errol Morris' or Truman Capote's territory than Herzog's, and his patient, determinedly respectful interviews with members of the American underclass bear a whiff of European condescension.

The central figure in The Attack is the very picture of a tolerant, integrated future for the Mideast. When a horrific blast kills 17 people and sends dozens of wounded to his hospital, he's elbow-deep trying to save the victims, even the one who refuses help from an Arab.

By today's standards the sexuality is fairly discreet, the color cinematography is brilliant and the sense of absurdity marks this as one of Meyer's bust, er, best, efforts. [22 Oct 2004, p.39]

The juvenile performances are impressive, as they usually are in foreign films, and Spiridonov handles some grueling material with impressive maturity. But the movie comes undone with an abrupt and preposterous finale.

The performances are solid and subtle, with Depardieu growing nicely into the brooding, smarter-than-he-looks roles his father tackled for years.

Convincing performances from Hemingway and the charmingly crabby Johnson and an unhurried pace ensure that Baker's film achieves its modest goals.

Joe works better as a study of character and environment than as the thriller it tries to become in its final act.

Collette proves herself worthy of carrying a movie with a performance that runs the gamut of human emotion without striking one false note.

If Like Father, Like Son had set up a genuine conflict here, this could have been a fascinating, even gut-wrenching, melodrama. Instead, writer-director Hirokazu Kore-eda stacks the deck by making Ryota such a highfalutin jerk and Yudai such an exemplar of cozy, loving family life.

Solid summer entertainment set in a recognizably real world.

As usual in Le Carre's world (and the real one), a measured, rational approach faces an uphill battle against the philistines who really run the show. That predictably weary attitude is both the best — as embodied in Hoffman's performance — and worst — in its weary predictability — things about A Most Wanted Man.

It's no "Fantasia" or "Sleeping Beauty," but it's no "The Rescuers Down Under," either.

An extraordinarily gut-wrenching, intense story of survival against all odds.

In this involving if slightly unfocused documentary, director Daniel Karslake takes a two-pronged approach in examining how religion has been interpreted -- some would say twisted -- into, at its worst, monomaniacal homophobia.

If the star does his utmost to make a one-dimensional character interesting, his director, Clint Eastwood, adapts Kyle's memoir — a life story rife with moral complexity — by hammering it flat.

While Shepard just does his grim, weathered, Sam Shepard shtick, and Hall seems oddly miscast as the tense, prickly Dale, Johnson's easy, gritty charm is a much-needed buffer between their colliding obsessions.

Mostly it's about taxes -- namely, the argument that the Federal Income Tax, enacted in 1913, is unconstitutional and has been ruled as such by the Supreme Court, and that no law exists today requiring Americans to pay it.

More convincing are the performances from Jenkins and Allison Janney, as another of Jesse's old profs. Both these pros bring more depth to their supporting characters than either of the promising, but, alas, young, leads do to theirs.

In addition to a vast array of incredible autos crafted from fiberglass, Roth also created the anti-Mickey cartoon character Rat Fink, a deranged-looking, filthy rodent.

Solid acting, especially from the women, and a few good Colin Farrell jokes make this familiar tale better than it probably should be.

Ignorance is bliss, maybe. If you don't know (and the film doesn't tell you, though the press notes do) that Diplomacy plays fast and loose with the known facts, it's a thrilling, even moving drama. But learning the truth gives an unpleasant aftertaste to a movie that's otherwise a solid piece of work.

While In Bloom offers an authentic slice of life from a particular time and place, it never gets close enough to its characters, physically or emotionally, to really hit home.

Fortunately, their story is just as compelling here, and the film's subjects display impressive adaptability, as well as a desire not to forget those they've left behind.

As fascinating as all the film history is, the movie's core is the dynamic between a famous but distant parent and his child.

The movie shifts awkwardly from slapstick firearms training sessions to tender campfire kisses to straightforward suspense (who are those mysterious trench-coated figures?). Combined with unconvincing behavior from all of its characters, that's enough to leave this a disappointing realization of a potentially fascinating idea.

The performance of Bening (and, quietly, Irons) keeps Being Julia from being too tiresome.

Thanks to a slew of engaging performances and a script that finds the sweet spot between crass and curdled, it's a winner.

Her film is just as effective as a portrait of two unknowable, individual souls caught up in events of global scale.

It's a fun and attractive ride.

Despite convincing work from its cast, the movie remains oddly uninvolving.

It's unfortunate that the lack of originality in plot and character keeps Akeelah and the Bee stuck firmly in "After-School Special" territory.

A bit too familiar, and at times gentle to a fault.

Canadian director Richie Mehta ("Amal") based Siddharth on his own random encounter with a father searching for his missing son, and the film never feels less than utterly real in its depiction of both everyday Indian life and the hopelessness that comes so naturally in this sort of tragic situation.

Well-intentioned but underdeveloped and self-satisfied, it feels at times like the ultimate movie for the millennial generation, or at least its stereotype.

A surprisingly in-depth and confrontational examination into the obesity epidemic among Americans, especially children, over the last 30 years.

Land of the Dead is huge. It's Romero doing what he does best: using zombies to create a lowbrow social parable. It shows up junk like "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" for the brainless pap it is. And it's got something that even the best previous "Dead" films have lacked: good acting.

While the film is no groundbreaker, it is a paragon of elegance without austerity, and there's nothing like being in the confident hands of a master filmmaker.

With a titanium body and a child's mind, Chappie is a fascinating figure, vividly rendered, enough so that you wish there was a better movie around him.

A fascinating experiment in both filmmaking technology and narrative style, but one that can be counted a success only in limited ways.

Though it's well-cast and convincingly captures the look and feel of its era, the film loses steam as Accio's story meanders to a predictable conclusion.

Liman stages the chaotic action scenes, including several iterations of the beach assault, with clarity, precision, and wit. This is his best movie since 2002's "The Bourne Identity."

The animation is pretty and clean, reminiscent of other Studio Ghibli films like "Whisper of the Heart," but never achieves wondrous artistry.

This ode to indie legitimacy proves to be too cartoonish to feel real and not outrageous enough to be memorable.