Wesley Morris

As ambitious as this may be, however, the movie's objectives tax its energy even as the girls' plight tears at your heart.

This is a patient, simmering movie. It's contemplative but without his usual smitten indulgences.

Garlin's movie is beautiful in its own way. It also suggests that David's show would still be brilliant without the aggravation. I'm not saying that David should renounce misanthropy. But maybe he could curb less of Garlin's apparent enthusiasm for people.

Assassination reminds you that Penn can be very funny.

The historical scope of this story, as well as Loach's interest in absolute fairness, seems to have drained some of the life from its telling.

A delightful road movie.

Bay's movie is also a confident mega-production that feels it doesn't need to lean on its visual frills if it has Smith and Lawrence -- it's a natural-born buddy flick.

This is one beautifully drawn, frequently lifelike piece of anime.

A dashing fusion of the literary and the cinematic.

The sight of Adams gliding and beaming and chirping in this movie - a self-mocking cartoon that transforms into an inspired live-action musical farce - is just about the happiest time I've had watching an actor do anything all year.

An alt-country paean to libidinal mothers and the little girls who clean up the mess.

Effortlessly entertaining romantic comedy.

What's special about the movie is how totally it believes in itself as a musical. The tunes, co-written by Sandler and a bunch of his pals, take on rock opera and traditional Jewish folk music with boyish exuberance.

A finely coiffed, cream-cheese "8 1/2" remix with Gere, a Marcello Mastroianni for Oprah Winfrey times.

Like Schumacher, director Gregor Schnitzler is more preoccupied with his characters' looks than their behavior. You might not buy the ideas. But you'll definitely want the T-shirt.

This third installment is the loudest, dopiest, and least inventive of the three. But what the movie...lacks in intelligence it makes up for in sheer doom.

Il Divo is showboat moviemaking, but the opulence is of a piece with the film's damning assessment of the durable Italian elder statesman Giulio Andreotti.

Tokyo Sonata, in so many senses, is about an allergic reaction to the very idea of what it means to be Japanese. The characters misplace their belief in etiquette, politesse, dignity, and propriety - or they struggle to maintain it.

It's been animated by the same company that made "Despicable Me,'' which is to say you don't know whether to watch The Lorax or lick it.

The emphasis here is less on cuteness and romance and more on the "Raiders of the Lost Ark"-style adventure.

The musician is candid about his own demons and gives the filmmakers access to his wife, two very different daughters, and, for a nicely done montage, his family photographs.

A perversely enjoyable, occasionally harrowing adaptation of José Saramago's 1995 disaster allegory.

Leconte's writing is tight and nimble, and while the tests of the duo's friendship are facile, under the circumstances, they make sense. The bond between Francois and Bruno approximates the real thing; Leconte seems to be arguing that you can grow a flower from fake soil.

It's a startling, speedy, gracefully executed indictment.

Expanded, Major Dundee is still a mess of great scenes sprinkled among some fairly monotonous action.

This is a disarming and, in its own way, delightful vehicle for its star and executive producer, the comedian and actress Mo'Nique. Who could hate this movie?

The Protector is about 84 minutes long, and only four of those minutes are devoted to plot.

The title is Portuguese for "send a bullet" and the clever American tag line is "the rich steal from the poor; the poor steal the rich."