Marc Mohan

The movie's conceit grows a bit stale even with a short running time, and ultimately the whole thing feels more like an acting workshop than a full-fledged human story.

The line between fearlessness and idiocy can be a thin one, especially in this sport, and the doc never gets too far under Way's skin. But when he soars -- on a skateboard! -- above the massive structure that kept invading armies at bay for centuries, it's pretty darn cool.

It's a fine idea, but Dominik beats that drum without cease, making his passionately furious message come across anything but softly.

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

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

Whatever the interpretation, Stoppard and Wright have demonstrated that Anna's saga has lost none of its power.

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

Unfortunately, it just doesn't come together. The animation ranges from crude approximations of Terry Gilliam's cutout style to borderline puerility, and the entire enterprise strives far too desperately for the sort of irreverence that Chapman could conjure with a cock of his pipe-clenching head.

The languid, observational style of director Julia Loktev will frustrate those expecting stuff to, like, happen more, but it has its real rewards.

Despite too stately a pace at times, and some fairly predictable plot resolutions, the film succeeds thanks to empathetic performances (from Walken and especially Hoffman) and an evident affection for the music and musicians it depicts.

Spielberg manages to give us a Lincoln for our times, inspiringly heroic but demonstrably human.

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.

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.

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

It has laser gun fights, forbidden love, and a rollicking group breakout from a fascistic old folks' home. What more could anyone want?

As unpleasant as so many of its going-on are, Wake in Fright works both as an early instance of "Ozploitation" cinema and as a harsh critique of Australian colonialism and the absurdity of trying to bring so-called civilization to this vast arid wilderness.

War of the Buttons means well. But ultimately there's only marginally more edge to this treatment of World War II than there is to the average episode of "Hogan's Heroes."

The movie is stunningly perfunctory, soul-crushingly oblivious to its own lack of originality, and, to be blunt, just plain dumb.

The environment is one of unrelenting cruelty and misanthropy, which certainly brings out the novel's darker themes, but can be something of a slog to watch.

The period details are spotless, kindling memories of those days of yellow ribbons and nightly news updates on the fate of the American hostages.

Consistently surprising, Seven Psychopaths ultimately plays like a combination of Quentin Tarantino's self-aware, savvy ultraviolence and Charlie Kaufman's reflexive head trips. And that potentially awkward combo goes down like a chocolate-vanilla swirl cone, only with more guns.

Director Guillaume Canet, who previously teamed with Cluzet on the excellent thriller "Tell No One," capably handles the sprawling cast.

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.

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

While the third act inevitably bogs down a bit in gunplay and chases, there are more than enough moments of visual wonder and storytelling surprise to make it worth the trip.

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.

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

As the action moves from Vienna to Paris to London to Denver to Phoenix and then back again, the vignettes blur into one another.