Marc Mohan

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.