Paul Malcolm

The first REALLY great mythic film of the summer has arrived.

A remarkably moving and disturbing film about the possibility of belonging and the genealogy of violence.

Storaro's gorgeous cinematography imbues every frame with an enthralling subjectivity.

Shrek's first 20 minutes are so devilishly funny that letting go of pure belief doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

The film's intimate camera work and searing performances pull us deep into the girls' confusion and pain as they struggle tragically to comprehend the chasm of knowledge that's opened between them.

Baumbach weds his verbal gifts to a fresh visual acuity that brings layers of rich detail to a portrait of a family coping, poorly, with self-inflicted change.

Proves too sincere to exploit its subjects and too honest to manipulate its audience.

Writer-director Fabián Bielinsky's devilish Nine Queens serves as further evidence that Argentina's film industry is at the forefront of a resurgent Latin American cinema.

A pure font of high-flying kung fu artistry, the likes of which has since transformed the way Hollywood's good guys and bad kick the crap out of one another.

At 60 minutes, the film never stops feeling like a guided tour, while we're wishing it was a sleepover.

Malkovich and Dafoe play off each other with a devilish hamminess.

With a brisk pace and satiric blend of nostalgia and violence, it's the sharpest, funniest comedy so far this year.

Kusturica's always masterful orchestration of chaos, coincidence and caricature really pays off as a sweet, soulful celebration of old friends, new loves and the mad scramble of life at the fringe.

While Stiller and De Niro can play hilariously off one another, the film -- despite its happy ending -- feels unresolved.

A tight blend of self-awareness, humor and fear.

Both funny and furious -- on why black people are different from white people.

It's whiz-bang, techno fun, with a touch of Latino flavor.

The film's plainness, and the understated force of van der Groen and Petersen's performances, sharpen its complexity of feeling until all mawkishness is cut away.

How Miike gets us from amiable point A to debilitating point B is a remarkable act of manipulation and control that may leave you feeling sucker-punched, even brutalized, but you won't forget the experience anytime soon.

Captivating coming-of-age story.

For all its simplicity, however, the film is entertaining, even uplifting, with Lopez giving a stellar, confectionary performance.

Maquiling offers us the unexpected pleasures of taking the side streets in a film about how even minor-key adventures can make a life stuck in low gear something to look back on.

Remarkable exploration of sexuality and the Jewish faith.

A meta-horror film that hilariously parodies the genre's clichés with smarts to spare. It's also the scariest fucking movie Craven has made since the first "A Nightmare on Elm Street."

Climaxes in a flood of revelations that, like so much of the film, take us where we least expect to go.

Grisman's warm, loving home movie in the guise of a documentary.

Thraves escapes formula by shaping the film around low-key incidents instead of speeches or overt lessons. There are plenty of side streets here.

While there are scenes of wrenching emotional openness and spontaneous charm -- largely due to the irresistible allure and impeccable craft of its ensemble cast -- the degree of calculation apparent in its plot and images undermines its efforts to move and seduce.