Michael Rechtshaffen

The success of “The Absent One,” like its Department Q predecessor, ultimately rides on the shoulders of Kaas’ intriguing Morck.

While it doesn’t venture far from its evident stage roots, neither does “What We Do Next,” a sinewy, tautly calibrated morality play, ever stray from the decidedly contemporary issues at its complex core.

Although the substance could have used more visual style, Ray tells an uncluttered story and draws strong performances from his actors.

While it might not amount to epic animated filmmaking in terms of scope and invention, Epic, a 3D, CG adventure-fantasy from Blue Sky Studios, nevertheless makes for pleasantly engaging viewing.

40 Years in the Making: The Magic Music Movie transcends the trippy nostalgia to deliver a moving message about the healing power of reconciliation.

While its insights into the consequences of selective memory loss continue to resonate the world over, at its heart, Amnesia is a beautifully acted depiction of confronting regret.

With a charismatic cast headed by Seamus McLean Ross and Samuel Bottomley, California Schemin’ is a nimbly paced yarn that may not have set out to reinvent the wheel, but makes for a buoyant excursion nonetheless.

A straight-ahead but affecting documentary that acknowledges the stubborn obstacles inherent in their efforts to make a difference.

It's the affable cast, headed by Drew Barrymore and John Krasinski, that really makes the picture so widely accessible.

Although Vallee's remarkably assured film, which clocks in at more than two hours, proves that it's possible to have too much of a good thing, Canada's official Oscar submission for best foreign-language feature still manages keep up the entertaining yet emotionally satisfying pace sufficiently to earn audience accolades.

Sufficient cheap thrills and enough of the prevailing camp quality.

Many moments of laugh-out-loud comedy. But somehow those moments never add up to a fully satisfying viewing experience.

Although, structurally speaking, the production follows a safely familiar path, it doesn’t require a lot of fancy footwork when you’ve got an enthusiastic on-camera fan base including Bruce Springsteen, Scorsese, Eric Clapton, Taj Mahal and Van Morrison, a terrific storytelling arc, a treasure trove of archival footage and, naturally, those iconic songs.

Writer-director Jamie Sisley’s autobiographical first feature strikes a genuine, sobering chord.

Despite the inherent familiarity, the quietly observed Low Tide, graced by a mournful, undulating score by composers Brooke Blair and Will Blair, nevertheless packs a genuine depth.

Each sequence is masterfully calibrated for maximum lip-quivering effect, swelling strings and all.

It's a safe bet that exposure to the film should cause audiences to make room on their iPods for some serious downloading.

Although comparisons to the memory-challenged machinations of "Memento" are inevitable, the plotting here takes a more traditionally linear path.

While it only occasionally rises to the clever levels of its inspired jump-off point, Smallfoot, an animated romp about a civilization of Yetis who make the discovery that the legendary pint-size human isn’t a mythological creature after all, carries sufficient charm and a bit of unexpected depth to justify its breezy existence.

Effectively anchoring the picture is Keke Palmer's lovely lead performance as Akeelah Anderson.

Co-directors Kate McIntyre Clere and Mick McIntyre paint a decidedly damning picture.

A thoroughly conventional romantic comedy with all the usual trimmings.

The end result admittedly favors tone over substance, accentuated by Jeff Grace’s playful, mock Morricone score and character turns that affectionately flirt with conventions without giving way to outright parody.

Like any well-researched piece worth its weight in MSG, the documentary uses food as an angle to something else: a look at immigration and at a melting pot stirred by prejudice and persecution, later seasoned with adaptation, innovation and acceptance.

The production comes by its authenticity naturally -- and not only because several of the cast members (fascinating faces all) happen to be related.

Engagingly anchored by character actor John Hawkes, Small Town Crime is a satisfyingly quirky serving of frisky pulp fiction.

A Kid from Coney Island proves to be as surprising and affecting as the unorthodox career trajectory of its subject, basketball player Stephon Marbury.

Despite all that loopy energy, Dicks: The Musical still can’t help but remain an inescapably one-note proposition, albeit a subversively melodic one.