Rene Rodriguez

By the end of Breach, we never come to fully understand Hanssen -- who could? -- but Cooper's beguiling performance and his tense cat-and-mouse games with Phillippe help bring an extra layer of entertainment to this otherwise rote thriller.

An uncommonly perceptive and finely shaded character drama.

For all its cross-cultural hijinks, Japanese Story winds up as a tale about the fragility of human beings and the lasting strength of the bonds we form during times of crisis.

But this smart, genuinely creepy movie also feels <I>real</I>, which is why its horrors hit so hard. Fans of the scary stuff, run, don't walk.

The movie tries its hardest to celebrate the impetuousness of its hero and the exhilaration of his accomplishments. Mostly, though, it just reminds you of the severity of his mistakes.

More than once during A Scanner Darkly, you find yourself wishing these characters would just shut up.

Style is the main attraction in The Limey -- it's as close to experimental filmmaking as mainstream movies get -- but the film works well when taken simply as a pure revenge drama, too.

Another strange, sometimes harrowing exercise in absurdity that resonates despite its weirdness.

Manages to turn an internal, solitary activity into fodder for an engaging, even exciting movie.

The heist in Flawless comes at the film's midpoint, but although Radford wrings some nice suspense from the sequence, the theft isn't his primary focus here. It's what happens next.

Only devout Dylan fans will be able to derive much sense out of it. Dylan novices can only sit back and surrender to the ride Haynes offers: It's a strange, surreal trip.

Often feels like a cartoon that wishes it were live action.

Himalaya doesn't need a traditional story line to transport the viewer into another, fascinating world.

While the film is undeniably melancholy, Moretti's trademark light touch keeps it from becoming overbearing.

As a whole, it's a bit of a mess, the work of bratty geniuses with talent to spare, but unsure of what -- if anything -- they're trying to say.

Achieves an assaultive intensity that adds a level of visceral excitement to car chases, mano-a-mano showdowns -- even simple conversations. It's a style that takes some getting used to -- the images flit by at near-subliminal speeds -- but proves tremendously effective.

14-year-old Noah Fleiss gives a performance that's every bit as astonishing as Haley Joel Osment's work in "The Sixth Sense."

Like most of le Carré’s novel, A Most Wanted Man has a veracity most spy thrillers lack, and the suspense is of the intellectual, not visceral, kind.

Even at his worst - and Robert does some awful things - the actor almost makes you root for him, hoping he'll get away with it.

This is minor Disney at best, forgettable at worst.

The results, for the most part, aren't pretty. The newly expanded Balseros, which adds an hour of footage to the previous film, is an even more compelling, if grimmer, work than the original.

One frenetic movie that doesn't know when to quit -- and leaves you wishing it could go on forever.

What distinguishes Spider-Man from most other comic book movies is that the film is at its most engaging when its hero is out of costume.

Calling a comedy old-fashioned nowadays might seem like a backhanded compliment, but that's precisely what this genial, funny movie is.

Like the best coming-of-age stories, I'm Not Scared (Io Non Ho Paura) is, in part, a work of horror.

Flyboys is so schematic and contrived, you can anticipate exactly what scene is going to come next, and who will be the next to die in combat, once you latch onto the structure of the script, which has all the inventiveness and ingenuity of a flow chart.

Unfortunately, there isn't enough of Brando and Kilmer: Too much screen time is eaten up by the monsters, plotting their perfunctory uprising against their creator. Worse, the confusing climax never comes close to fulfilling the promise of the opening credits sequence (the best of any movie this the summer). But The Island of Dr. Moreau has sublimely weird moments in it that are hard to shake, and for starved horror fans, nowadays you take what you can get. [23 Aug 1996, p.5G]

By the time its open-ended conclusion rolls around, you've forgotten you're watching a "comedy." All you can see in front of you are complicated, impetuous real people -- and that's about the biggest compliment any filmmaker could hope for. [06 Feb 1997, p.5F]

Once you get past its intriguing title, What's Eating Gilbert Grape turns out to be a plain if beautifully photographed slice-of-life drama decked in eccentric garb. Beneath its veneer of oddball characters, it's a rather simple, essentially bloodless tale about life in Endora, Iowa, a tiny dead-end town. [4 March 1994, p.G4]

These two fine, talented actors share a fatal lack of chemistry together, and it's a flaw this grandly ambitious movie cannot overcome.

Best of all, the story moves as fast as that bullet train, careening from one impossible predicament to the next while the characters jostle to survive.

It's Depp's misfire that keeps the picture from becoming a genuinely sweet pleasure: As it stands, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is the equivalent of NutriSweet.

Expertly shot and choreographed in Eastwood’s clean, unfussy style, the Iraq sequences are taut, harrowing and at times excruciatingly suspenseful, particularly a setpiece in which Kyle faces off against his Iraqi counterpart, a superb sniper who has made it his mission to take down the American sharpshooter.

Combined with the sluggish story line, Daylight becomes a chore to sit through: The only people who want to get out of the tunnel more desperately than the characters in the movie are the ones stuck in the theater. [6 Dec 1996, p.5G]

Scary? Yes, in spots. Gratuitously gory? You bet. But, first and foremost, Zombieland is a comedy.

The strained, strange relationship between father and son ultimately becomes the emotional center of The Clan, culminating with an astonishing closing shot guaranteed to induce startled gasps. It’s a great, jarring moment that is the work of a filmmaker clearly in love with his craft — and a flavor for the darker side of human nature.

A mature, insightful and extremely well-acted study of a boy at a crossroads in his life, and a doomed, tortured man who, consciously or not, longs for some kind of redemption, before it's too late.

In a film overstuffed with tragedy, the most painful one might be the gradual transformation of Fernando's moral and intellectual indignation into a weary, cynical detachment.

Suggests that professional wrestling is more than a multibillion-dollar industry: It's also a way of life.

Enjoyably preposterous, old-guys-are-cool-too plot.

The Grandmaster sets aside traditional story structure in its last 15 minutes and becomes one of the filmmaker’s free-form visual poems, suffused with melancholy and compassion.

But there are so many beautiful, tender moments in In America -- that it's easy to forgive Sheridan's manipulative ploys.

Director Fred Dekker does a serviceable job with what looks like a tight budget, and the movie will satisfy undemanding Robofans, but as a whole, Robocop 3 has the feel of a movie made to squeeze an extra few bucks out of a tired franchise. [08 Nov 1993, p.F2]

The movie is supremely entertaining -- and often hilarious.

Cars is certainly watchable, and there's always some amusing bit of business happening at the edges of the frame.

De la Iglesia’s knack for offending audiences while showing them a good time is stronger than ever: Witching and Bitching isn’t much on substance or logic, but man, is it fun.

Roberts inhabits the character with a gravity and poignancy that she had never even hinted at before.

The Hangover remains unrepentantly irresponsible and hilarious throughout, culminating with what could be the funniest montage ever to grace a picture's end credits. The summer's first sleeper hit has arrived.

The wait for a great action movie is finally over. Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol is pure popcorn of the highest, most flavorful order, and it's good for you, too.

Celebrates a larger-than-life heroism that is, sadly, all too rare.

If Ray fails to present a genuine portrait of a complex man's essence, it does leave you with an even greater sense of awe for Charles' accomplishments, both in his personal and public lives.

Certainly pleasant, but it's also a bit safe.

For all its splendor, The New World is really a love affair between Malick and his camera.

Exuberant, often hilarious.

By retelling Glass' pathetic tale, Shattered Glass reminds you how our culture's emphasis on success and stardom in any field -- and the betrayal of ethics to attain them -- has a cumulative, corrosive effect on society, no matter how small the stage may be.

Contains all of the hallmarks of classic genre Spielberg: It shows you things you've never seen before, instills an accompanying sense of awestruck wonder, and delivers long stretches of heightened, delirious excitement that remind you why people started going to the movies in the first place.

It takes a concerted effort to make a movie as relentlessly stupid and grating as 15 Minutes.

Doesn't sugarcoat the painful realities of Alzheimer's or the difficult decisions faced by relatives of its victims, but by film's end, its clear-eyed melancholy winds up feeling strangely uplifting.

Overflowing with melancholy and tragedy, Road to Perdition is one of the most somber gangster pictures ever made.

The good news is you’re feeling stuff, you know? And you’ve got to hold on to that. You get older, and you don’t feel as much, your skin gets tough.” This remarkable, wonderful movie helps you remember.

Cassel, who won a Cesar (France's equivalent to the Oscar) for his performance, invests the character with a grounding of humanity and honor that imply there are certain lines even Mesrine would never cross.

This is Eastwood's "Brokeback Mountain," chased by a healthy serving of "J.F.K."- style paranoia and conspiracies (Oliver Stone is going to love this movie.) But because so much of what the film says about Hoover remains speculative and unproven, J. Edgar can't fully cross all its Ts.

By film's end, we're deep into Coen brothers territory, with an extra splash of Sam Raimi-level gore.

Using a semi-documentary approach, Glatzer and Westmoreland circumvent the considerable potential for sentimentality inherent in their story, instead taking a frank and direct approach to kids who, while far from hardened, are nowhere near innocent, either.

That broad range of subject matter is indicative of the messy, meandering structure of the movie. But if Moore fails to tie this unwieldy movie into a lucid thesis, at least every tangent he chases down has its own payoff.

In the House seems to be building toward a cathartic and unexpected finale. Instead, you get a baffling fizzle — an inexcusably limp and unimaginative conclusion that doesn’t bring a single plot strand to a satisfying end.

Exotica seems to be about lust for the flesh, but it ends up as something much more tender -- and deeper. [24 Mar 1995, p.4G]

Beguilingly odd.

There is so much that is wrong with The Alamo that it is easier to begin with what the movie gets right: Davy Crockett. As played by Billy Bob Thornton.

The screenplay for 7 Boxes is a beautiful example of how to craft a tense and increasingly complex thriller out of a simple scenario.

By giving the hero's inner plight so many dimensions, Superman Returns brings a richer, grander perspective to a seminal character without changing his essence. It's a profoundly personal take on a universal icon, made by a filmmaker who continues to improve with each movie.

The movie's second half, which grows progressively sadder, also starts to feel a bit repetitive.

Aside from its period New Zealand setting, there is little to distinguish Bride Flight from something you might watch briefly on Lifetime, then change the channel.

Wreck-It-Ralph is a gorgeously rendered story that will play just as well to children as to their parents, albeit for different reasons. Playstation and Xbox junkies will be equally pleased.

None of this is all that engaging. But the art design of the movie makes up for the slack story.

Carries a whiff of disappointment: There's little here Mamet hasn't done before, and done better.

There are other filmmakers who might have been drawn to a comic book as enchantingly ridiculous as Hellboy. But there are none who would have turned in a sleek $60 million picture as daringly silly, playful and imaginative as this one.

The Coens feel out of step this time; they’ve lost their rhythm the way they did in The Hudsucker Proxy, where the style consumed the entire picture, turning what should have been humorous and snappy into a grating chore.

More sour than sweet, but Steers knows that, even in a cruel, unsentimental world, there is room for forgiveness and hope. Just don't expect a hug.

The Signal is too ambitious for its own good: The movie is built on shells of ideas and concepts that haven’t been fully thought out, and once it’s over, the movie collapses the more you think about it.

She's such a fascinating, faceted character that halfway through "Christine" you almost forget about what's coming.

One thing nearly all the anecdotes in The Hunting Ground have in common is their resolution: A lack of justice.

Star Trek Into Darkness gives you an exhilarating, tingle-inducing rush — that rare feeling that comes when a gigantic entertainment is firing on all fronts, exceeding your expectations.

Saring, often funny comedy.

Deja Vu becomes increasingly sillier.

The actors are talented enough to carry the movie, but they fade into the background once things grow dire, and the special effects take over. There's no sense of wonder or awe.

There isn't a moment in the movie where you don't feel Spielberg's passion, and this time, the film is worthy of his enthusiasm. It's a knockout.

For anyone interested in the art of comedy, it's a veritable primer on the vagaries of humor.

Unlike so many Hollywood thrillers, which too often rely on implausible or telegraphed twists, Transsiberian is carefully structured and designed to make sense when you replay the events in your head.

Gangs of New York is many things, but a masterpiece is not one of them. It is primarily, and somewhat surprisingly, a poky western, with a vengeful orphan.

All of Egoyan's movies have revolved around characters with damaged, fragile psyches, but rarely have they been illustrated as deftly -- and as gracefully -- as in Felicia's Journey.

Big Miracle even throws in an unexpected bonus, a surprise last-minute cameo that is funny without being the slightest bit mean, just like the rest of this hugely likable movie.

Although not quite as over-the-top visually as his Oscar-winning The Great Beauty, Youth is still spectacular, filled with tableaux (a group of people sweating silently inside a sauna, a naked man and his prostitute inside a hotel room) that juxtapose the desires and personalities of young and old without dialogue.

Shame is fearless in the way the most ambitious art often is, and to write it off for what it doesn't do is reductive and misguided. You don't just watch Shame: You feel it, too.

A relentless descent into a psychedelic hell, a rambunctious feel-bad epic.

Bordello of Blood isn't quite awful, but there's nothing in it better than its catchy title. [19 Aug 1996, p.2C]

The best moments in Walk the Line are the plentiful musical sequences, from Cash's initial foray into the Sun Records studio in Memphis, to his nights performing in high school auditoriums alongside the likes of Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis, to his landmark concert at Folsom Prison in 1968, where his dangerous, edgy persona was cemented.

Combined with Guare's bountiful writing and Schepisi's ambitious style, Six Degrees of Separation approaches the sublime. [21 Jan 1994, p.G5]

An irritatingly contrived drama.

Match Point begins to recall Hitchcock as it unfolds, although it wouldn't be right to call it a thriller. This is still very much a Woody Allen movie, populated by upper-class characters who chatter about literature and fine art, frequent museums and designer boutiques and accidentally run into each other on the street with uncanny regularity.

With Moore’s formidable, Oscar-bound performance, the picture transcends the usual cliches of the genre to become something far more moving and profound.

The House I Live In is a work of journalism, not propaganda: Jarecki has done his research and leaves it to you to decide what to make of it.

Amid such a strong cast hitting all the right notes, Caruso looks wan, though he's not bad enough to sink the movie. [21 Apr 1995, p.5G]

The most amazing magic yet for the wildly popular franchise: It is genuinely engrossing.

Director James Ponsoldt, who co-wrote the script with Susan Burke (inspired in part by her own experiences), opts for realism and modesty instead of sensation.

A perfectly adequate horror romp, but it's hard to imagine anyone remembering it five years from now.

What makes it the best movie of the year -- is its insight into human behavior.

The Imitation Game is vibrant and lively, engaging you on three levels: The fascinating way the Nazis managed to outwit the rest of the world until Turing came along, how his giant contraption (essentially the world’s first computer) will work, and what will happen to him and everyone he knows when the truth about him is finally revealed.

By turns endearing and hilarious, Lilo & Stitch is proof the folks at Disney should break their own rules more often.

Nothing about Leap Year plays out exactly like you expect, and Rowe prefers to send you home with enigmatic questions instead of clear-cut answers. You may not fully understand Laura, but chances are you won't be able to forget her.

Tadpole was shot on digital video, and the images often look smeary and blurry, to the point of distraction. Then again, in a better movie, you might not have noticed.

If I were 8, I would want to see it 800 times.

Precious without ever being cloying, All the Real Girls is a wise, delicate and immensely touching romance.

Miraculously, the new picture makes the old one feel like Evans was just warming up.

Unfortunately, The Big Lebowski doesn't hang together, and it's not supposed to: That's just the way the Coens want it. In some circles, this will be celebrated as the brothers' refusal to "sell out" after achieving Oscar glory. But anyone hoping for a real movie will see The Big Lebowski as nothing more than a pleasant waste of time. [6 March 1998, p.5G]

The result is earnest, admirable and more than a little dull -- a pedestrian movie about a remarkable subject.

Instead of delivering a pointed statement, this timely and energetic crowd-pleaser aims for -- and accomplishes -- something much more difficult: It makes you fall in love with its characters.

Really a blistering satire about spin and the manipulation of the media.

Unlike "Jaws," Open Water isn't much for traditional popcorn-movie scares. Instead, the movie is more interested in depicting the gradual deterioration of its protagonists' sanity, and how that affects their relationship.

Never crosses over into meanness, and even the most satirical character has a moment of empathy.

The frustratingly uneven comedy Tropic Thunder has moments of full-on, bust-a-gut hilarity, along with long stretches where you can hear the crickets chirping in the theater.

Craven ("Scream," "Nightmare on Elm Street") is already a legend in horror film circles, but this is the first time he has tried his hand at a slick, relatively bloodless suspense-thriller, and the genre suits him.

Tangled packs old-fashioned Disney magic as endless as Rapunzel's locks.

Edge of Tomorrow isn’t good, but it’s also forgivable. Just please stop the "Top Gun 2" rumors, Tom. Please.

The movie is small and familiar, but this time, those turn out to be strengths.

Hacksaw Ridge may be too syrupy for cynical tastes and too brutal for the timid.

In the movie’s best scene, Bisset lays into Depardieu with the rage and anger of a woman who has tolerated bad behavior for too long (there’s a fiery spontaneity to their verbal sparring that makes you wonder if the scene was improvised).

The movie wouldn’t work, of course, without the chemistry between Hill and Tatum, an unlikely duo who share a tremendous charisma.

A fat streak of melancholy courses throughout Young Adult - who would have guessed the sight of a Kentaco Hut, one of those one-stop conglomerations of Kentucky Fried Chicken, Taco Bell and Pizza Hut, could be this depressing?

The solemn, morose tone of The Pledge also guarantees a quick box office death: This is essentially a movie about bad things happening to good people, and if you have any interest in seeing this beautifully made bummer, don't wait too long.

Never buys into Wuornos' bizarre claims or questions her guilt in the murders. It does, however, make a powerful argument against capital punishment, no matter which side of the debate you happen to take.

If The Score isn't quite in the same league as the classic "Rififi" or even "Thief," its single-mindedness still makes for a refreshing change from the preposterous bloat of most contemporary action movies.

A unique bond still develops between the two outcasts, leading to an unexpected resolution that ends this subtle, deeply humane movie on an ambiguous, but unmistakably hopeful, note.

Borrowing its title from a mix tape Cobain compiled as a teenager, the film, made with the cooperation of his widow, family and former bandmates, remains compelling and moving no matter how familiar you already are with the singer’s story.

The documentary Mad Hot Ballroom is packed from start to finish with adorable kids doing cute things: Rarely has a movie, fictional or not, had this much awwwww factor.

Chemistry is one of the few things left filmmakers can't fake with CGI, and the dynamic between Craig and Mara in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is so sensational, it instantly propels the movie beyond glossy, high-toned pulp into something far more affecting.

Horton Hears a Who wisely preserves most of Seuss' verse in voiceover narration, but the main dialogue, while it doesn't rhyme, preserves the author's humanistic humor and whimsy.

The film is a brutally effective, insanely rousing piece of drama, with enough new wrinkles and ferocious acting to sweep you into its clutches.

Easily the most searing movie-going experience of the year.

Unfortunately, Ghobadi doesn't trust his film to convey the message that has already been clearly and entertainingly spelled out, and No One Knows About Persian Cats ends on a sudden note of tragedy that almost ruins the exuberant spirit of everything that has preceded it.

The film lacks the menace and danger of Sendak's book, along with the beautiful simplicity and delicated, understated portrait of a lonely, misunderstood boy.

Never seen a murder mystery you couldn't outwit? Here is your movie.

Director Hector Babenco's sentimental, unconvincing adaptation of Varella's book, is a soft, simplistic look at a tough, complicated subject.

Worth seeing for Dafoe's performance alone, a singular mixture of camp and pathos that echoes the tragic, romantic allure of vampires in literature and film.

Collateral is a small, modest movie writ large by people so talented, they aren't capable of anything less.

The movie's emotional impact is undeniable. It's a devastating portrait of smart, civilized people driven to behave in uncivilized ways, until it's too late.

You start out fearing Don’t Breathe, but by the end you’re laughing at it — and the humor is not intentional.

Even if the movie loses its nerve at the end, that doesn't take anything away from Washington's performance.

Energetic, nostalgic, occasionally troubling movie.

Propulsive, hyper-violent and ridiculously exciting, Elite Squad: The Enemy Within can be described as "The Wire" transplanted to Rio de Janeiro.

Black Book takes a brave, if odd, approach to a WWII historical drama, but one thing is certain: No one in the theater will be bored.

All the actors are strong, but Wilde is particularly good as the impetuous Kate, who doesn’t realize how incredibly selfish she has become. The actress’ great beauty could have been a distraction, but her performance is so complex and alive that she blends right into this world of ordinary, working-class people with modest aspirations who are trying to find happiness but often go about it in all the wrong ways.

Like "The King’s Speech" or "Shakespeare in Love," The Theory of Everything sometimes feels a bit too polished and precise, leaving no room for ambiguity and always staying easy to digest, like elegant pap.

Although it is never explicitly stated, Manda Bala essentially argues that when the middle class disappears, the rich and the poor end up feeding on each other, like the frogs that go cannibalistic at the frog farm that gives the movie its central metaphor.

Eventually, though, the monsters come out -- blind, snarling cave-dwellers, looking much like Gollum's bigger kin -- and The Descent becomes a simple exercise in guessing who, if anyone, will survive.

Slight but extremely effective, and its characters so engaging that even the sad finale, which is not entirely unexpected or original, manages to pack surprising power.

Too bad, then, that after two hours of such relentless tension, Prisoners starts revealing its secrets to progressively hokier effect.

Batman Begins is a mature take on material often relegated to the kiddie file, and it's simply the latest proof that, when treated properly, comic books are a viable art form for all ages. Bring on the sequel.

This playful, immensely entertaining movie knows that art is in the eye of the beholder.

At two hours, the movie is probably 15 minutes too long -- the final half-hour in particular could have used some trimming -- but complaining about having too much of a good thing makes one sound like a grouch.

A fiendishly subtle horror movie, a goosebump-inducing exercise in suspense that uses your own imagination to scare you silly.

Viewers with a strong stomach and an appreciation for surreal humor that borders on horror - the latest film from Spanish wildman Alex de la Iglesia (Perdita Durango, The Day of the Beast) is a must-see proposition.

It also leaves you pondering what you would have done if you had been one of the soldiers stationed there, fighting in an increasingly loony and surreal war. There but for the grace of God, and all that.

Hilarious and socially astute.

This is a love letter to lunacy (and an unspoken tribute to the iconic towers) that lets you feel what it’s like to tread where only gods dare.

At heart, The Ghost and the Darkness is essentially Jaws with paws -- at one point, you can see the lions' silhouettes circling under a sea of roiling dry grass. It has all the requisite elements for a sweeping, old-fashioned jungle adventure -- except the adventure. [11 Oct 1996, p.6G]

Even though Howard captures the texture, the personalities, and the often-breakneck pace of a big city newsroom, the movie feels oddly light and feathery. In its last third, it briefly threatens to become a biting dark satire before settling on a disappointingly conventional path. Still, there's an awful lot of star power at work here, some of it hard to resist. The Paper is old-fashioned Hollywood entertainment: flashy, breezy, and not at all challenging. [25 March 1994, p.5]

It's all amiably hackneyed, but it sucks you in anyway.

Past the foreign mysticism and eccentricity of Tibetan Buddhism to portray its characters as unmistakably, identifiably human.

Seductive, ultimately frustrating.

An unusually vicious and unforgiving study of police corruption, Narc is a stylistic throwback to such classic 1970s cop dramas as "The French Connection" and "Serpico," with a 21st century helping of the old ultra-violence.

The Broken Circle Breakdown manages to pull off a small miracle, using joyous music and tenderness to tell a tragic story that moves you but doesn’t depress you.

Cruz, who has never been able to fully show what she's capable of as an actress in an English-language film, takes to the role of the dark-haired hellcat with a sexy, bewitching fury.

Michael Mann's extraordinary Public Enemies is an unusual sort of gangster picture, a near-impressionistic recreation of the last year in the life of one of American history's most notorious bank robbers.

Aside from its South African setting and flavor, there isn't a lot in Tsotsi that differs from its legion of similar Hollywood counterparts. But the movie's heart, along with Hood's refusal to sugarcoat the grim reality, wins you over no matter how many times you've seen this story told.

In the film's most frightening sequence, Countdown to Zero imagines what would happen if someone detonated a bomb in the heart of a major city, such as New York City's Times Square.

The Nice Guys never lives up to the promise of its hilarious first 10 minutes, but Crowe and Gosling are good enough to leave you hoping for a sequel.

This is a long, impeccably detailed, richly textured movie about a most unusual life, and although it's far from perfect, the sum of it achieves what Fincher set out to do in the first place: Make you blubber like a 6-year-old who just found his pet turtle lying belly-up.

Gets everything right.

Tender and sentimental, a little schmaltzy, and ultimately too slight.

This is the kind of colossally misguided vanity project.

The best moments in Matchstick Men belong to Cage and Lohman, who, in "Paper Moon" fashion, prove that the family that cons together, laughs together.

There are moments of heartbreaking beauty in it – although Dolan is still a work in progress. He'll get better – he's immensely talented – but he's not quite there yet.

In a simple, direct manner, Gunner Palace reminds you that the thousands of faceless, nameless troops in Iraq are still there after you switch off CNN.

By the end of the movie, when all your questions have been answered, you're left with the exhilarating high of having been manipulated by a gifted artist in a diabolically dark mood.

That’s one of the great accomplishments of Ascher’s film: Intercutting his interviews with fictional recreations of what the subjects are describing allows you to see a version of what they saw, and you don’t need to believe any of it for The Nightmare to give you a major case of the creeps.

Certainly pleasant, and occasionally endearing, but it's also strangely empty and unsatisfying, like hearing about someone else's wild dream: You can appreciate the details, but you don't really care how it turns out.

Makes the Columbine shootings seem both abstract yet more painful and vivid. It also gets you excited all over again about the things movies can do.

Shaped just like the murder-mystery its title promises, the documentary Who Killed the Electric Car? introduces us to the victim, then rounds up the suspects most likely responsible for its demise.

Guaranteed to engage the decided and undecided alike, regardless of party affiliations.

My One and Only isn't exactly memorable, but this little, personable movie is a fine showcase for Zellweger's talents and a paean to the sort of mid-1950s America best remembered in Norman Rockwell paintings.

The fragmented style is distracting and ultimately annoying, robbing the story of its suspense and drive while contributing nothing except self-conscious style.

The talented actors are game, but they are done in by the shallow nature of their characters, none of whom behaves in a manner remotely resembling real life (they don't really seem to be related, either).

Best of all, L'Auberge Espagnol uses Barcelona as a veritable character, a picturesque, vivacious place where, as one character puts it, ''No one eats before 10 p.m."

Sweet and tart in just the right doses, but there's also something underwhelming about it.

Smashing, supremely engrossing picture.

Won't appeal to everyone, of course, particularly those who blush easily. And parents who take children to see it deserve to have their heads examined. But for those who don't mind a little bile in their eggnog, it's the perfect antidote to all that prefab Christmas cheer.

The best parts of It Might Get Loud, though, occur when Guggenheim visits with the musicians one on one.

The most intriguing character in the movie is the confused, tormented Conrad, who initially comes off as the kind of troubled adolescent who will end up riddling his classroom with bullets.

A model of pitch and modulation and craft. For two hours, the Coens hold you in their grip so tightly that for long stretches it feels a little hard to breathe.

War may set the stage for Strayed, but the film's real focus is something much quieter and internal: People caught in the throes of a transformation that is not of their making and struggling to adapt.

Initially sounds perverted but ends up being just the opposite.

A perfectly cast Keanu Reeves pokes deadpan fun at himself in the role of Justin's New Age dentist, who hypnotizes the kid and encourages him to find his inner ''power animal.'' And Vince Vaughn, in a rare straight turn, is excellent as Justin's high school teacher.

Basterds isn't so revolutionary or so finely crafted as "Pulp Fiction" was, but it crackles with the same energy and imagination and chutzpah.

Part chopsocky action, part romance, part hokey fantasy, Dragon will please anyone open to a well-made, if superficial, Hollywood biography, a "biopic-lite." [8 May 1993, p.G5]

The film is sad in a beautiful, peaceful manner, and its exploration of mortality is different from most others, since the three central protagonists are all barely in their 30s.

The movie doesn't quite achieve the transcendent effect it reaches for, saddled with an ending that fails to live up to our expectations. But the experience of watching Babel is undeniably riveting: Even if the film doesn't really lead anywhere, you still can't take your eyes off it.

Unstoppable is the slowest, talkiest movie you'll ever see about a runaway freight train loaded with toxic chemicals.

Brave has a manic, almost daffy energy and sense of humor.

Viva is "Rocky" in drag and sequins, transplanted to Havana. The movie is pure formula, but it’s surprisingly effective anyway, because director Paddy Breathnach and screenwriter Mark O’Halloran don’t sugarcoat the reality of life on the island.

The movie isn't just hilarious: It's witty and inventive, too, and in hindsight, it isn't even all that dumb.

Ashes of Time Redux is primarily a sensory experience that deserves to be seen on as big a screen as possible.

Bold and intrepid film buffs: The gauntlet has been thrown. Here's something you don't see every day - thank goodness.

An impeccably shot, studiously staged, passionately acted bore, one of those curious fizzles in which everyone seems to do everything right, but the film simply refuses to take off.

Surprisingly effective, rousing entertainment, which boasts plenty of old-school, at times jaw-dropping stunt work done the manly way.

The entire point of Carnage is to poke fun at the fragile civility of the upper-middle class - they're all animals inside! - but how much more fun would this material have been if the story hadn't been about polite white people?

Palo Alto is a pale imitation of the early novels of Bret Easton Ellis, who wrote about young ennui and misdirection from the inside out.

As for getting close to Wintour -- or even explaining the unfathomable mystery that can be haute couture -- the film comes up empty.

And although The Cooler doesn't do anything fresh with its Vegas milieu, the movie is refreshingly frank and astute when it comes to depicting sex.

You can only string an audience along for so long with scary masks and sudden appearances at the window, and after a while, the suspense starts seeping out of The Strangers, because you realize that's all there's going to be to the movie.

Emits a fishy odor, like a recruitment film for an obscure cult you'd rather stay away from.

The movie gives you what you think you want, and then gives you some more, and just when you think things can't get any worse, Haneke swoops in and smashes the wall between fiction and reality, turning the viewer into a direct accomplice to what's transpiring onscreen. It is an astonishing film, sure to be controversial, and quite simply unforgettable. [30 Jan. 1998, p.6G]

An exploration of how fear and mob rule can poison even the purest of souls.

Allen's most amiable, breeziest comedy in years.

Profoundly hopeful and optimistic film.

The Avengers has a knockout final 30 minutes, all gee-whiz crash and bang and eye candy that makes grand use of 3D and IMAX and all the other toys. But the Transformers movies did that, too.

It feels like three movies stitched together.

To lump in this smart, subtle, deviously effective thriller with "The Omen" or "The Good Son" is neither fair nor entirely accurate.

The movie is more somber and less wondrous in tone than the first film, especially since the lion Aslan (voiced by Liam Neeson), who would have been instrumental in leading the Narnians to victory, has disappeared.

I could tell you what Double Team is about, but life is short. Instead, I'll tell you that Van Damme and Rodman play the good guys, and that they trade lines like "You're crazier than my hairstylist!" and "You look like a carrot with earrings!" [5 Apr 1997, p.1G]

There are 10 minutes of animation in the film, and it could have used a few more: They have a spirited, inventive energy that the rest of this well-intentioned but awfully melodramatic movie lacks.

The movie fails utterly at coming up with a story that merits all the eye candy.

See How They Fall is at its best when coasting on the chemistry between scheming Max and childlike Johnny, whose odd- couple relationship arises out of necessity and ends up as something closer to father and son. First-time director Jacques Audiard toys with the story's timeline and wraps things up with a subtly cold-blooded ending that earns the film its noir status with a wink and a bitter smile. [10 Feb 1995, p.19G]

Some of the creations these chefs produce defy belief (and make you wish you could jump into the screen to have a taste).

From a purely cinematic standpoint, The Underneath is Soderbergh's most daring work yet, full of elliptical flashbacks and fast-forwards; ominous camera angles and cinematic tricks. But Soderbergh's movies (sex, lies and videotape, Kafka, King of the Hill) have always been cunningly smart, and The Underneath is not. [28 April 1995, p.5G]

But even if the film is short on analysis and skepticism, Tammy makes for a fascinating subject anyway.

What Sunshine State lacks in momentum, it makes up for with a Dickensian sprawl of characters -- 50 in all -- who possess the depth and humanity that has become a Sayles trademark.

Remains naggingly hollow, a cerebral exercise in whimsy that isn't nearly clever or funny enough to seem like more than grand self-indulgence.

Explosively funny in spots -- this is easily Vaughn's best work since "Swingers" -- but it comes wrapped in a package so sweet and sugary, so tediously moral and conventional, it sabotages the laughs.

Inside Llewyn Davis is one of the Coens’ smallest movies — this one doesn't have the broad appeal of "True Grit" or "No Country For Old Men" — but like Llewyn’s music, it comes from the heart and it is deeply felt. It is also one of their best.

Lee delivers a beautiful evocation of the American Dream in its simplest, purest form.

This is the rare breed of Hollywood studio production that has the brash spirit of an independent picture and the sharp wit of a stand-up comic.

In Redbelt, David Mamet enters the realm of sports drama and Rocky-underdog clichés and discovers it's a surprisingly good fit.

Self-indulgent, overwrought, shallow and ridiculous. It is also brilliant, a blast of cinematic lunacy and as much of a guilty pleasure as the schlocky movies Tarantino adores, which was probably the point. Sometimes, only a Big Mac will do.

Like most movies about death, the gentle, quirky Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself ultimately turns out to be a story about embracing life.

The result is initially exhilarating, ultimately exhausting.

Love makes us do all kinds of crazy things, but in Crazy Love, crazy seems too mild a word.

Even when sketched in broad terms, Rogowski's downward spiral makes for compelling viewing, and to her credit, director Stickler never romanticizes her subject.

Loses its nerve in the final minutes, relying on a series of contrivances to arrive at an unconvincingly pat, happy ending. The story begged for a darker, more biting resolution.

All about watching Jaa.

The movie even fails on a psychological level, never illustrating how, in a pressure-cooker environment and swept up by mob-think mentality, we are capable of committing acts that innately repel us.

Depends on one's ability to accept Sandler in the part: For me, the casting felt too much like a stunt, a filmmaker's compromise to get his intimate, uncommercial script green-lit.

McGrath makes literal what the other movie only hinted at -- that Perry falls in love with Capote -- turning the relationship between author and subject into something far less complicated and more mundane.

Despite its serious subject matter, North Country is a crowd-pleaser at heart.

The Hunger Games takes no risks.

The amount of information the viewer is asked to process is voluminous and never stops coming.

Potiche is filled with rat-a-tat dialogue and broadly humorous situations, but Ozon also employs subtle touches.

A mess, but a fascinating one.

An impressionistic portrait of the seductive nature of evil.

The relentless pace is a big part of the fun. Who ever heard of a slow rollercoaster, anyway? You'll have to ride this one in the theater, though. It simply won't be the same at home.

An uncommonly intense and frightening experience, The Conjuring is the first genuinely scary release in ages by a major studio that features practically no violence and spills only a bit of blood.

The Homesman, director Tommy Lee Jones’ drama about the hardships of pioneer life in 1850s Nebraska, goes from deathly dull to shocking to intriguing to “Look, there’s Meryl Streep in a bonnet!”

Tilda Swinton is the star of We Need to Talk About Kevin, and her performance is so complex and volcanic and transfixing that all of the film's flaws melt away.

Depp isn’t doing anything different here than he did in "Dark Shadows" or "Alice in Wonderland" or the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies. Once again, he’s unrecognizable under elaborate makeup and prosthetics, and he speaks with a peculiar voice (this time a thick South Boston accent).

The Wave builds up a nice bit of genuine tension and hits some surprisingly dark notes.

Unless you're the sort who has a Che Guevara T-shirt tucked away somewhere in your closet, the needlessly long The Edukators wears out its welcome.

There's a strange, bittersweet melancholy in watching the protagonists of Good Bye, Lenin! being buffeted about by change, but refusing to let go of each other.

The movie has such a profound and compassionate understanding of human behavior, family ties and the way ordinary people respond when they're forced into a moral quandary, I can't imagine anyone not being transfixed by it.

You’re Next is built on such an enormous pile of guff, it’s practically insulting.

But Tarantino isn’t glorifying the ugliness; he’s condemning it. He just wants to put on a grand show at the same time. “Are you not entertained?” he seems to be asking. Yes. Yes, we are.

This charmingly modest and entertaining film feels warmly human, and its virtues will remain in your memory days after you've seen it. [02 Sep 1994, p.G4]

The Illusionist is dogged by an inert, stale aura that overcomes everything and everyone in the movie.

Molloy occasionally goes overboard with her realistic approach to storytelling (there’s a sex scene that is way more graphic than it needed to be), but mostly Una noche thrums with the vibrant energy of restless youth taking their fates into their own hands, for better or worse.

But as rich a comic turf as the huge egos and even bigger neuroses of Hollywood types would seem, For Your Consideration always seems a bit too tame for its own good: It never busts out the way you hope it would.

What makes the picture sail past its flaws is its earnest understanding of the desperation that drives people to regain control of their lives -- and the profound courage required to attempt it.

If Heaven doesn't quite achieve the transcendent power that Kieslowski might have attained, it comes close. One shot in particular, with the couple making love under a tree in silhouette, is a thing of quiet, sublime beauty that is eloquent in a way words never could be.

A high-wire act of storytelling, tone and old-fashioned chutzpah.

Next time Damon will have to find a worthier vehicle. As the intended start of a franchise, The Bourne Identity is a bit of a bust.

Maps to the Stars is haunted by ghosts, the way the film industry is haunted by its past, and Cronenberg gradually tapers down the dark humor and starts to amp up the ugliness of these blank, superficial lives.

John Wick reminds you this actor deserves better. Reeves makes the movie entertaining in a background-noise way, but he can’t give it any gravity, even when the filmmakers pull the cheapest trick in the book to get the audience to root for the hero and hiss at the Eurotrash villains. Someone get this man some good work, quick.

The coming-of-age tale The Way, Way Back is sweet, heartfelt and utterly trite and predictable from beginning to end.

There's no denying the particular political slant of Why We Fight, but Jarecki's thoughtful, nonconfrontational approach makes it absorbing viewing, regardless of whether or not you buy his arguments.

Bad enough to earn a rare spot on my hallowed list of ''The Worst Movies I've Ever Seen,'' An American Carol is testament that the country's culture wars are raging just as strongly within Hollywood as anywhere else.

James Franco looks more bored and distracted in Rise of the Planet of the Apes than he did when he was hosting the Oscars: Watching the movie, I kept waiting for him to pull out his iPhone, aim it at the camera and take a snapshot while mugging sheepishly. Has there ever been a film with a less engaged protagonist?

My Cousin Vinny is not without its flaws: The movie is overlong, the middle section sags, and there are a couple of running gags that simply aren't very funny. And while the film's courtroom climax is preposterous, the last half hour is definitely worth sticking around for: Pesci makes it a hoot. [13 Mar 1992, p.8]

A sleek, rousing contraption, a comic-book movie with a sense of playfulness, a welcome streak of humor and just the right touch of gravity.

The movie's faults aside, this is the kind of show where half the fun is watching it in the company of a large group of people.

While the scope of the movie is bigger, its impact is smaller. "Blue Valentine" was a precise, heartrending portrait of a marriage coming apart at the seams. The theme of his new movie is a lot harder to discern.

The movie is slick and entertaining, but much of it is as superficial as a Twitter post.

Jarmusch has never seemed quite this baffling -- or quite this dull.

For all its doom and gloom, Revenge of the Sith turns out to have a happy ending after all, giving Star Wars the send-off it deserves.