Walter Addiego

The comedy-drama is worth seeing for Christie's performance as a former B-actress married to a philandering handyman. She radiates a mature sexuality that's a rare treat on screen these days, and when the camera strays from her, you want to reach over and turn it back.

The film's subject, a whistle-blowing research scientist who played a key role in the fight to regulate tobacco, deserves to be celebrated.

The film bolsters its case with plenty of facts, charts and expert testimony - evidence typical of this sort of advocacy documentary. But what makes the movie compelling is its focus on a handful of victims, who make the statistics painfully real.

The documentary Watermark is close to the cinematic equivalent of a coffee-table book. It relies heavily on visuals and offers minimal context. The project has a pro-environment feeling, which comes across implicitly, not through browbeating or preaching.

It could have been something substantial.

The result is a thrill ride with enough plunges and turns and loop-the-loops to make it worth a spin. What the picture lacks is the magic and resonance you feel in the best of popular entertainments.

It's an apocalyptic ghost story with some eerie images and a surprising turn toward the end, but it bogs down considerably between the good scenes.

Director Cordero manages the not-bad trick of generating suspense while keeping the overall tone cool and collected.

Has compelling stretches, but the film's formal concerns overwhelm the storytelling.

It's hard to decide what's worse about this feral clan residing in Brighton, England: their unspecified criminal enterprises, their penchant for bloody vengeance or their twisted family dynamic.

It's compassionate but unblinking.

Overall, it's a nice melding of sci-fi and a crime story.

There's no objectivity in this film -- Greenwald's goal is not to offer balanced coverage but to roil the waters.

Strel is one strange duck, and you can only wonder that Werner Herzog, with his fondness for captivating weirdos, didn't get to him first.

Intriguing and educational. For partisans of Bertolt Brecht, it's mandatory.

In the title role, Kikuchi is impressive, easily handling Kumiko’s comic and more somber sides and never allowing us to settle into a single or simple interpretation of the character.

It’s all so heavy-handed that it’s hard to stay engaged with the movie.

The film is far from perfect but has enough going on to compensate for its excessive length and some sentimentality.

With his caustic humor, director de la Iglesia is being billed as "the next Almodovar."

Taking a stand would have made the film stronger, and might even have been helpful to young Pug and his peers.

At first, the technique seems gimmicky, but finally it's as compelling a perspective as any to understand how these men passed through agony to some sort of peace.

There’s much of value to be had along the way to a nicely handled ending. It would be a mistake to call it a surprise, but it’s something that few viewers are likely to expect.

Short on complexity and depth, The Divine Order gives us a parade of heroines and villains. Instead of raising questions, it seems to want to induce in viewers a sense of smugness.

By the end you can't help but wonder whether it was a good idea to keep the youngsters under camera scrutiny for more than 12 years.

Among the film's more intriguing revelations is the key role California's almond crop plays in the nation's bee industry.

Questions of politics and policy, even urgent ones, seem pretty dry after watching Henry and the other elderly patients come to life. Those scenes are a revelation.

That the movie largely sidesteps partisan politics will no doubt irk some viewers, but may just be its greatest strength.

The scale is small, but Jellyfish has deep currents.