Scott Bowles

Sarah's Key is, for the most part, an exercise in reserve. We never see Hitler, never enter battle. Paquet-Brenner (Pretty Things, Walled In), rightly tells his Holocaust story as it now lives: through survivors and descendants.

Pooh succeeds by embracing much of what modern films (including Potter's) have largely forgotten: old-fashioned movie pleasures.

There isn't much in the way of plot to get in the way of Sandler's world: There's poo, ripped pants and hot girls falling for fat guys.

It's over-the-top stuff, to be sure. But Bosses never crosses that line into the macabre.

Black is clearly suited for the role of a modern-day Inspector Clouseau, a hero clown who can't help but save the day.

Hangover II marks one of the most derivative sequels of the year: The opening and closing scenes are taken almost shot-for-shot from the original. Just substitute Asians for Americans, gross-outs for guffaws.

Speaking of that middle-finger finale, there is one redeeming trait: At least it signals the end credits.

As he did in "Stranger Than Fiction," Ferrell displays surprising range when he ratchets down the volume.

One of the coldest action films in years and an odd showcase for Saoirse Ronan, a deft actress who is one of the few youngsters capable of pulling off action with acting.

Leave it to a wimpy kid to show Hollywood how to make a family movie with live people in it.

You've never seen a movie like Sucker Punch. And depending on your entertainment preferences, you may not want to.

Where Paul takes off is in its embrace and knowledge of sci-fi icons.

You have to give director Jonathan Liebesman some points for sparing no shell casings or standing buildings to hustle us through the film's languorous two hours.

Four is so cobbled with bits of other sci-fi and comic-book movies, there's little to distinguish it.

Never works as a gum-snapper concert movie and does provide a glimpse into instant stardom in the Twitter generation.

What it became was bad. A movie that hopes to blend "Lethal Weapon" with "Gladiator" winds up not being a fraction of either.

For added heehaws, the normally dependable Nick Swardson comes along to act the ass and delve into some of Sandler's more nuanced scatological humor.

Brisk, brutal and unconcerned with collateral damage, The Mechanic doesn't pave much of anything new in the assassin-for-hire genre. But when it kills, it does so with style.

A flimsy, occasionally spooky demon tale.

It's simple stuff, but the movie's heart is in the right place.

Vaughn and James are likable enough, and they would have real chemistry in, say, an all-out comedy.

A mishmash of horror and history genres that's not as bad as its trailers but ultimately is dragged down by, of all things, its star.

Scott paces the film like its mechanized star: deliberately and, ultimately, with enough speed to keep its passengers satisfied.

It bristles with exuberant numbers that strain beneath the weight of cliché.

Menacing and meditative, Hallows is arguably the best installment of the planned eight-film franchise, though audiences who haven't kept up with previous chapters will be hopelessly lost.

Far-fetched is fine in most action flicks. And it would work here if Days were a straightforward police story.

This just in: Morning Glory can't decide whether to skewer the morning news or wallow in its pap.

He hasn't mastered the craft yet, but M. Night Shyamalan may be on to something with this action-movie thing.