Marc Mohan

You're either on the boat or off the boat with something like this. But for those willing to brave the open water, it's an awe-inspiring ride.

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.

For his directorial debut, British actor Charles Dance tackles such familiar English themes as repressed desire and an arm's-length fascination with foreigners. Luckily for the slight story, he has recruited two of the most effortlessly brilliant grande dames of British film.

The scenes between Gainsbourg and Skarsgard are fewer and less engaging than in the first volume, and the dichotomy between them is simpler and more obvious. And that doesn't even include an ending that is as impulsive and deranged as anything Joe comes up with during all of her taboo-breaking adventures.

For those disappointed in the grim, gritty feel of the latest James Bond movie and who long for the absurdity of the Roger Moore-era entries, Transporter 3, ought to fit the bill.

There's potential here, as well as in Junn's touching relationship with a fellow resident at the home, for real intensity, but Khaou insists on sticking with a glacial pace and lip-trembling emotional repression when a little bit of melodrama might have gone a long way.

Once the story proper begins, it too feels slightly out of time.

The domestic and romantic turmoil all gets resolved a bit too neatly to seem realistic, but realism isn't the goal; this is comfort food, plain and simple, and achieves its modest goals in nearly effortless fashion.

Loses something when it depends on its computer-generated creatures to carry the story. The effects are a mile above the previous Hulk film, but there's still a certain awkwardness to some movements, and an odd lack of definition to the massive muscles that makes them seem like gelatinous sacks of meat.

LaBeouf is likable and grounded, two things you need from the lead in a film like this, although his female co-stars seem to have been cast based on how well their Maxim covers would sell.

Three potent performances readily compensate for the familiar plot.

This unique cinematic experience is a parable of greed and revenge that could take place anywhere.

By combining formulaic screenwriting and downbeat art house clichés, the ending puts a significant damper on what had been a fascinating character study.

Although the primary plot line turns out to be a letdown, there are aspects of The Machinist that redeem it. Bale's performance is one; another is the dull, metallic look of the picture.

The movie's a solid fish-out-of-water thriller that just happens to be populated by a few folks with adamantium skeletons or poison saliva on their résumés.

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

It's an ending that may alienate some viewers, but will jolt others out of their comfort zones and into an appreciation of genuinely brave storytelling.

The film's structure is a reminder that being Pinteresque isn't the same as being written by Harold Pinter, and its lyrics prove that there's a big difference between something Sondheim-esque and the real deal.

C.O.G. is probably of the most interest to Sedaris fans curious to see how the humorist’s unique tone translates to film (the answer is moderately well).

For gourmands who appreciate this sort of cinematic comfort food, though, The White Countess is a fitting finale for the producer.

There’s nothing approaching a unique take on the story.

Worthless, tasteless and unfunny.

For at least three-fourths of its running time, The Concert is predictable, soft-edged and unremarkable. Then the titular performance, of Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, begins, and the music elicits the emotional response the rest of the film has been striving for the whole time. It's enough to almost make the whole thing worthwhile.

Multiplex audiences can choose over the next few weeks between two starkly different views of the future. The remnants of humanity struggle for survival in the brutal world of "Mad Max: Fury Road," while Tomorrowland offers an optimistic retro-future paradise full of jetpacks and robots. Me, I'll take post-apocalyptic desert wasteland over soulless corporate utopia any day of the week.

The Belgian comedy The Iceberg might be a pale shadow of the films of the great French comedian Jacques Tati, but even that's enough to qualify it as an amusing, inventive effort.

There's nothing earth-shaking here, but a chance to see one of cinema's great movie stars in a tailor-made role that pleasantly subverts her icy image is always welcome.

Christensen, who played the James Bond villain Mr. White in "Casino Royale" and "Quantum of Solace," cuts a striking, white-haired figure as Segerstedt, whose principled tirades against Hitler ultimately earn him the enmity of his prime minster and even his king.

British-born director Justin Chadwick might not seem the most logical choice to bring Mandela’s life to the screen, but he handles the historical sweep and the intimate moments with equal steadiness.

The storyline would appear trite and the message muddled even to someone who'd never heard the name Mel Gibson.

The surprisingly thoughtful third act both introduces complexity to its portrayal of the Afghan people, and subtly reminds us that, despite Luttrell's astonishing constitution and self-surgery skills, as well as the ultimate sacrifices made by his comrades in arms, it was all for naught.

What could have been a complex portrait of a flawed man dealing with the perils of success ends up far less interesting.

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

Sarah's story is harrowing and powerfully told, as she valiantly attempts to escape and return home with the key to free her brother. Director Gilles Paquet-Brenner doesn't stint on depicting the indignities and violence inflicted even on children, and Mayance's performance is exceptionally strong.

The title is too cutesy and clever, but it's about the only unsubtle aspect of this poignant, humble drama that'll probably get lost amid the multiplex bombast, but shouldn't.

The only thing that could make this movie more French would be a guillotine.

Once Wentworth Miller's screenplay starts to provide answers for Charlie's mysterious menace, though, expectations are left unfulfilled.

Perhaps a better moniker would have been "One Flew Over My Left Foot."

Sayles has always had a gift for female characters, and Go for Sisters features a couple of good ones.

Predictable, contrived, sappy and, ultimately, against all odds, remarkably fulfilling.

The Railway Man wants to be two or three different movies wrapped up in one and ends up being a fairly mediocre version of each.

Sometimes it's fun to put on costumes and wigs and just goof around.

County Clare holds little of interest, with a generic story line and a cast that's mostly just going through the motions.

Despite the fact that its pace turns somnolent at times, and some of its themes feel somewhat clichéd nearly a half-century on, this revival offers a fantastic entry-point opportunity to one of cinema's singular figures.

This gritty take on Grimm's suffers from mannered supporting performances and an inconsistent level of realism.

There's a conflict between the film's need for some sort of closure and the messiness of the reality it depicts that leaves The Whistleblower even more unsatisfying than it was meant to be.

What makes Miss You Already work (when it does work, which is most of the time) is that it shows imperfect characters dealing imperfectly with situations ranging from the maritally frustrating to the existentially overwhelming.

Tries to pretend that its premise isn't timeworn, and thanks to charming lead performances, it almost succeeds. But not quite.

There are laughs to be found, as unfiltered improvisations on subjects such as Viagra, home electronics, pot cookies and the end of "Lost" come fast and furious.

Lyrical and gorgeous, it indulges in enough trademark Malickian touches to seem almost a parody of itself.

The actual video footage of some of the incidents recreated in the film, which play with the end credits, makes it clear that sometimes reality can be as hokey as fiction.

Its smallness of scale, and undemonstrative nature, could make it a welcome change of pace from Hollywood bombast, especially for fans of the life aquatic.

An immaculately crafted, splendidly acted drama with a message at its core of forgiveness and humanity. It's also blatantly manipulative, and, upon reflection, rather banal. In other words, it's the epitome of Oscar bait and almost serves as a step-by-step guide to creating such a beast.

One of the most lifeless and predictable movies you're likely to see this year.

Overall, the trip successfully embodies the spirit of the original Magic Bus man, Ken Kesey, whom these modern-day pranksters visit in a poignant scene filmed just months before his death.

Remarkable, unheralded story.

Ultimately, The Keeping Room feels more like a clumsy melding of "Unforgiven" and "12 Years a Slave" than a unique take on violence, race, and gender.

While these interviews are affecting, and the movie talks about suicide in a refreshingly straightforward manner, it's the images of these actual deaths that induce horrified gasps.

This may have been fertile grounds for satire in 1925, when Noel Coward's drawing-room melodrama Easy Virtue debuted on the stage, but by now this film version feels rather done.

Significantly cleverer than its moniker, even though it picks for its satire one of the most inviting targets on record: the world of contemporary art.

The film paints a by now familiar picture of suburbia as a pit of dysfunction, though some nice dark-humored moments and generally fine performances make up for a lot.

Wrong never feels dangerous or truly challenging, content generally to amuse rather than amaze.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about this story is that it would have been lost to history had not American spelunker Chris Nicola happened across mundane relics -- buttons, shoes and the like -- while exploring the cave complex in the 1990s.

It's a fantastic high concept to wrap the film around, and Gervais comes close to fulfilling its potential, especially when he tells a comforting deathbed lie to his dying mother and accidentally invents religion.

The relationship between Trishna and Jay never rings as true as it needs to for the downbeat third act to resonate the way it was presumably intended to do.

It doesn't take an awareness of the ethnic and cultural differences between the miniskirted siren and the shy Arab youth to see that she might be more than he can handle.

A twisty, darkly comic story of greed, betrayal and murderous misunderstandings.

Life Partners may be a dispensable sitcom of a movie, but it's charming and cannily made.

Thor meets the elevated expectations for superhero movies today, but doesn't exceed them. There's some sloppy plotting, which always shows a certain disregard for the audience's intelligence.

Doesn't have much new to offer in either style or substance. It's got the same glossy-gritty urban warfare sheen as "Black Hawk Down" and every other Third-World geopolitical action thriller of the last few years.

The movie is well-crafted and finely acted (including by the non-actors László and András Gyémánt as the creepy, affectless twins), but it never comes up with a new way to communicate its sadly familiar themes.

Humor and humanity keep The Boys Are Back from being a cloying mess.

Even if her turn in Bright Days Ahead feels overly familiar, especially after Deneuve's recent "On My Way," Ardant is still possessed of the same Gallic poise and presence, and generally a joy to watch.

The result calls to mind “Lord of the Flies” and “Children of Men,” even if the film’s second half is much less compelling than its first.

The ensemble can't bring enough, though, to overcome the unoriginal setup and predictable story arc.

Decent performances aside, the only interesting bits involve Geoffrey Rush as a chemistry professor who enables their self-abuse.

In a movie that strives to offend with every spat profanity and cruel insult, the most shocking thing about Bad Words is that it expects us to care about its main character at all.

The last time Jane Fonda acted in a French-language film, it was Jean-Luc Godard's radical 1972 effort "Tout Va Bien." It's fitting, then, that she fluently plays Jeanne, one of five aging leftists in this slight, but never frivolous, tale.

The parts of "Run Ronnie Run" that advance the minimal plot can be painful to sit through, but the jokes scattered along the side of the story often are hilarious. [19 Sep 2003]

While it's an effective memoriam for the well-meaning Germans whose lives were ruined by Hitler's mad dream, the refusal of Generation War to focus on any other sort of German makes it both dramatically and historically suspect.

A sometimes very funny movie made by very funny people.

The Killer Elite is possibly Bloody Sam's worst film, and the martial-arts-themed actioner is must-see material only for the director's completists, despite a cast that includes James Caan and Robert Duvall. [17 Jun 2005, p.43]

Binoche is her usual dependable self, bringing passion and fury to a familiar, but still compelling, character.

Overall, there's a patchwork quality to the movie, as if a batch of half-finished short stories were filmed before their time.

Rather like a four-hour episode of "Today": painless enough, leavening superficiality with substance, allowing you to watch and still do the laundry without missing anything vital.

The visual design of Mama is effective, at least in small, quick doses. But those are about all the positives for this example of why a solid audition reel doesn't necessarily mean you're ready to churn out a feature.

As far as the company Redford keeps, I liked it better when he hung out with Paul Newman and Sydney Pollack, but those days are long gone.

A bloodless film that aims for wry but leaves you merely asking "why?"

No matter how noble, not everyone's life should be made into a movie.