V.A. Musetto

One of the most original and stylish films to come along this year.

Despite its themes, Oslo, August 31st is an exhilarating film, with impeccable direction and pitch-perfect performances that make the bleakness worthwhile.

Meant to evoke filmmaking of a bygone era, but this time the director is more restrained visually, while making use of a more conventionally structured script than usual. And he has a real, honest-to-goodness star in Rossellini.

There's style and panache to spare. Mournful jazz adds to the mood.

An indie gem.

With Japan facing a new nuclear crisis, this beautifully composed and acted heart-wrencher -- couldn't be more timely.

Gansel based the film on the memories of one of his grandfathers. The acting is believable; the photography, atmospheric; and the moral, unmistakable.

Just as my mind was floating back to the summery movies directed by Eric Rohmer, Marie Riviére -- a Rohmer favorite -- shows up as a mysterious woman on the beach. Surely, Ozon had Rohmer in mind when he co-wrote and directed this lovely film.

A stunning study of ennui.

I hope they have shrinks in remote Nepal, because this kid is going to need one. P.S.: The scenery is awesome.

The tap-dance finale is a gem.

Ricardo Della Rosa's sumptuous, wide-screen cinematography takes full advantage of the sandy vista, complementing beautiful acting by Montenegro and Torres.

All too often, films about interconnected lives stumble under the weight of coincidences. Not The Edge of Heaven.

The shooting sprees are full of razzle dazzle. The final gun battle -- between Kong and the police -- is especially effective.

A mix of documentary and fiction, it demystifies the profession in delightful fashion.

Director and co-writer Martin Pieter Zandvliet draws inspired work from Steen.

Koteas and Ribisi, as two very different brothers, give realistic performances, and play off the differences brilliantly.

Awesome filmmaking. But it doesn't make for easy film-watching.

Glawogger doesn't make any moral judgments, but you can't help but feel sorry for the "girls'' and their johns.

Eggleston doesn't speak much, and when he does, it's usually a mutter, forcing Almereyda to use subtitles. Fortunately, Eggleston's photographs come across loud and clear.

Joe Swanberg - who directed, edited, lensed, co-wrote and played one of the lovelorn characters - has done wonders with a nothing budget and a personable cast of nonprofessional actors. For viewers so disposed, there are several arty shots of nude women.

Part political thriller, part National Geographic travelogue, Tom Peosay's documentary is a distressing look at China's 50-year repression of the people of Tibet.

The subject may be serious, but Ghobadi's approach is mostly light and humorous, at least until the final scenes. Hamed Behdad is especially funny as a streetwise promoter who fast-talks his way out of jail and 80 lashes.

Wonderfully quirky love story.

Paine doesn't hide his liberal mind-set, but he lets all sides - from GM suits to Ralph Nader - have their say. By the closing credits, there's little doubt who killed the electric car.

Sounds boring, but it's not, thanks to Marker's whimsical irreverence.

The real star, however, is Michael Simmonds, whose manic black-and-white camerawork captures the unique vibrancy of New York City. He helps turn one woman's obsession into a valentine to Gotham.

Koreeda, talented director that he is, never allows the story to sink into soap-opera melodrama, and he refrains from pointing fingers.