Sean Axmaker

A rousing celebration of a genuine people's hero and a timely reminder that a free press is the greatest weapon in the arsenal of democracy and freedom.

It's a simple film with a direct message, but the glimpses of the surrounding social culture that has adapted to the horrors give this Third World "How Green Was My Valley" its identity.

A drama that embraces the ambiguities and contradictions of family ties and human nature in all its irrational glory.

A fumbling attempt to create the European equivalent of a Japanese manga thriller in the conspiratorial mold of "Akira" and "Ghost in the Shell" has a stunning look.

By the film's interminable, unforgivably embarrassing third act it sinks in a sticky swamp of sentimentality.

Yet for a film so affectingly steeped in loss, resignation and the ghosts of memory, the revelation that pulls it all together, while satisfying and even touching, lacks emotional resonance.

The Dardennes's masterful casting and austere style amplify this simple but powerful parable.

A thoughtful and often evocative drama of identity and assimilation, but she leaves Nazneen so cocooned in her protective shell of disconnection that we can't connect emotionally.

The Will Ferrell comedy engine is running on empty in Step Brothers.

It moves so fast you almost forget it leaves the characters in its wake.

The film is inoffensive, and Baldwin is fun and engaging.

An old-fashioned Western with all the classic elements -- buddy loyalty, stalwart heroes, despicable villains, plenty of gunfights and marvelous wind-scoured desert landscapes -- marked by some modern ideas about relationships.

This is one family reunion where you need someone to act up or pick a fight, anything to bring a little life to the party.

The impressive marriage of CGI backgrounds and traditional hand-drawn characters gives Oshii more tools to sculpt his vision in color and light.

The simple, unpretentious storytelling of Unleashed is a rarity in the glut of underwritten and overproduced action films that dominate American screens today.

The three stars communicate the fears and dreams and frustrations of teenage girls with subtlety, sensitivity and dignity.

Not faithful enough to be an adaptation, too misguided to be considered an interpretation, and not funny enough to be a parody, this film would do well not to advertise its inspiration.

The contrast of the naive assurance of youth with the confusion and ambiguity of adulthood is sweet but simplistic and the wandering script hasn't much else to offer.

For all it's warmth and wonder, it carries little more power than a storybook fable.

It's a rare film that gets smarter as it goes along, injecting a satisfying dash of pragmatism every time it seems ready to slip into either unearned idealism or cynical fatalism.

Though a hypnotically beautiful film, it's dramatically listless and dull, and completely lacking in passion.

Drowns promising ideas in a sea of missed details and unconvincing motivations.

Michell captures the awkwardness of real-world behavior with gentle, unforced humor.

Director Wayne Wang stumbles through the awkward script without finding its shape or its tone, steering it toward maturity while the script falls back into slapstick sports gags and adolescent social politics.

The film is thrown off balance by the weight of Norton's compassion for this troubled soul.

See "Freaky Friday" for convincing cross-generational female bonding. Despite it's elegant style and uptown milieu, this film is a cheap imitation.

A sports empowerment fantasy of the best kind.

For all its pronouncements, it's a frothy romantic lark.