Mary Elizabeth Williams

Surprising as it sounds, as far as examinations of trust, loyalty and identity go, the big metal dude's story winds up far more satisfying than the plodding Kubrick opus any day of the week.

It's a hit for the most surprising reason of all: because it's very good.

A surprisingly wise and funny meditation on the nature of what it truly means to be a man.

The sweetest, most sincere romantic comedy to come along in ages, and a luminous love letter to a great American city.

What really elevates it, though, is the film's sharp wit and tender heart, both of which are conveyed beautifully by the fresh-faced cast.

The most inventive and genuinely frightening horror movie to appear in years.

It's a movie that succeeds, often beautifully, not by forcing its characters to be as naughty and gross and pathetic as men are. It soars by letting them be as naughty and gross and pathetic as women are. Three cheers for equality.

Wickedly funny, an ode to youthful overachievers that's as blackhearted as "Rushmore" was gently sentimental.

Farrell looks like he's having the time of his 400-year-old life.

They've created far and away the most complex, appealing female character in a summer of soldiers, sword fighters and asteroid blasters.

It's a feature-length reparation for the appalling live-action versions of Seuss' books we've endured over the last few years.

So full of winning performances and so disarmingly uncynical in its affection for its characters, it manages to leave you with a Texas-size grin on your face anyway.

Liman's buoyant direction is almost enough to make one forgive the film its heavily appropriated plot (including its groaner of a punchline).

What will likely draw butts into theaters for Friends with Kids isn't one star in particular, but the sum of its comic pieces.

After an uninspired middle period, the "Shrek" series has, like the revitalized character himself, roared back to form.

Whether he's getting hit in the face with a dildo or cozying up to Martha Stewart, Knoxville is always affable, playful and able coax a laugh out of an audience by doing ridiculous things. He's a jackass all right, but he's a jackass in shining armor.

May not be anything new, but it's still just as shocking.

It may not be a great film, but for moviegoers, Letters to Juliet is like that long buried missive of its title -- a hopeful sign that when we hold out for good things, our patience is sometimes rewarded.

What really saves She’s All That from being just another why-good-heavens-you’re-beautiful piece of piffle, however, is the way its lesser elements sparkle. The romantic comedy may be predictable, but director Iscove’s over-the-top parody of faux celebrity — by way of Lillard’s gleefully preening, partying, getting-sensitive-for-the-camera ex-Real Worlder — is a hoot.

What ensues is "Beaches" meets "Pineapple Express." Which, I've got to tell you, is pretty much what living with cancer is like.

What makes the characters in Pride and Glory real -- and raises the movie above the standard corrupt-cop fare -- is their capacity to live and die in shades of gray.

Despite how easy it would be to write off Righteous Kill as one sorry excuse for lazy filmmaking, there is still something utterly mesmerizing in the palpable chemistry between the two leading men.

Kate Winslet is a mesmerizing force in her own right, but too much of Holy Smoke turns out to be hot air.

As a pleasant domestic comedy/action-adventure that, refreshingly, doesn't seem to hate its characters, Date Night is just fine. But is it good enough to merit hiring a baby sitter? I'd rather have some potato skins at the Teaneck Tavern.

Falls flat for its skittish reluctance to bear any resemblance to an actual Wes Craven film.

At times, the movie feels less like a coming-of-age tale and more like an extended promo for the Chinese tourism bureau.

I'd appreciate toilet humor more if it weren't so often so unimaginative.

Despite its stellar leading ladies, Anywhere But Here is still a predictable generation-gap drama.