One can forgive the trying-too-hard aphorisms -- "You don't choose a life ... you live one" -- but savvy cinephiles are sure to be annoyed by Tyler Bates' hypnotic ambient-folk soundtrack, studded with such despoiled musical gems as Nick Drake's "Pink Moon" and the Shins' "New Slang."

The Big Year is better when it is examining the obsession of the birders, and Martin, Black and Wilson are enjoyable in toned-down mode.

While this version, listed as a "prequel," has a few gross-out moments, it lacks any sense of warmth. Which might be an odd criticism of a horror movie set in Antarctica, but there you have it.

This Footloose it's a pleasant reminder of the past for fans of the first one, and an agreeable-enough experience for everyone else.

Fantastic acting by the likes of Garret Dillahunt, Chris Cooper and Joel Torre lift characters above the cliched, offering a one-sided history lesson that is still well worth learning.

You also aren't sure what the film is about or if it's about anything at all, except fluid filmmaking.

What an interesting failure Margaret is.

With Sarah Palin: You Betcha! director Nick Broomfield manages to screw it up.

Some elements of the film are too melodramatic, but there's not a bad performance in it -- look at the cast and that's not surprising -- and Gosling is outstanding.

There's a little "Kramer vs. Kramer" here, a dash of "Transformers" there, and it's all topped with big heap of "Rocky." But it's hard to argue with the results, because, at times, Real Steal is close to a knockout.

If you can ignore the implausibility -- nay, the opacity -- of the plot, the film is wonderfully cinematic, with great photography, exciting editing, fresh camera angles and some impressive CGI.

The film's lack of common sense reaches out-of-control proportions in the final minutes.

It's a sometimes-hilarious send-up of slasher movies that buries a surprising amount of sweetness under buckets of gore.

Director Marc Forster moves from one thing to the next so quickly the movie plays like a two-hour-plus trailer. Something feels like it's missing here, even at that length.

50/50 is a tremendous movie. It's also a really funny one, which doesn't mean it won't make you cry.

Igawa is almost a magical presence, projecting a calm in Ozu that is infectious.

The film is leisurely paced, as many French films are, and not much actually happens, but as a character study, it feels true, and ultimately moving.

On some level Moneyball is about loyalty: loyalty to an idea, loyalty to a partnership forged by desperation, loyalty to the values you believe in. Whether that was Lewis' intention in the book, or Beane's intention in taking the risk, doesn't matter. It's the formula Miller came up with for the film, and with the team of Pitt and Hill, it's a winning one.

Cozi Zuehlsdorff winningly plays a young girl who works at the hospital. With her big smile and natural warmth, she is a charmer. Even better is Gamble, who gives a smart and sensitive performance without relying on any of the normal mannerisms that often afflict child actors.

If you're willing to accept Killer Elite as a shoot-'em-up action movie with good actors taking the spots of the usual lunk heads (but spouting the usual nonsense), you'll be pleased with the film.

It's definitely not taking advantage of a talented supporting cast, as Greg Kinnear, Kelsey Grammer, Seth Meyers and Christina Hendricks are among those wasted.

Think of Drive as the cinematic equivalent of riding in a car that projects a fashionably stylish image. Sure, the gas mileage may be terrible and the engine unreliable, but it's such a smooth, good-looking ride that you'll put up with the annoyances.

All are good, Damon in particular, but there are so many of them we don't see anyone for very long at one stretch. And all are given at least some bad material to work with before the movie is over. For the most part, they make the best of it.

It's a surprisingly moving film. While the fight scenes are unquestionably thrilling, the movie's best bits are not about winning and losing but about pain and, ultimately, forgiveness.

Cavaye is relentless in his quest to entertain, to thrill.

Told in such predictable and bland fashion it dulls the effect. And this in a movie with Robert Duvall, Lucas Black and Melissa Leo.

It's always entertaining, and it boasts a terrific performance from Sara Forestier.

This is real edge-of-your-seat stuff, in a throwback way - no booming special effects, just old-school timing and execution.

You come away from watching the film with a moral bellyache.

Perseverance is the theme of Life, Above All, a drama that is deeply affecting, if also overwhelmingly bleak.

Bursts at the seams with wild creativity.

Kapadia does an outstanding job of getting at what Senna meant to Brazilians and to his sport. The man himself was a tougher nut to crack, but maybe that's best. A little mystery suits a good story, and Senna is definitely that.

Wants to scare you, but it can't quite seal the deal.

The rest of the cast is fine, actually, but Rudd spares nothing in making Ned a lovable loser, with the emphasis on "loser."

As cinema, Crime After Crime is nothing special. It would be perfect for a PBS "Frontline" entry. But it reminds us, once again, that little can be quite so riveting as a well-told story from a compelling talking head.

Some people will find Miranda July's film a poetic triumph, a meditation on responsibility and disappointment. Others will find it hopelessly pretentious, one of those movies only pointy-headed critics can abide. I found the film to be more of the former than the latter. Except when the cat talks.

A fantastically entertaining movie.

The idea of dropping in on characters at different points in their lives can work - see "Same Time, Next Year" for how it should be done. Here, it simply puts a distance between the audience and two characters that aren't that interesting to start with.

It's a somewhat goofy movie that also manages some real scares. Best of all, it makes excellent use of an element of vampire stories effective since Count Dracula confronted Van Helsing in Bram Stoker's novel: I know that you know, and I also know there is nothing you can do about it.

There's just not a lot to like here, with the exception of what may be one of the all-time best bad movie lines, one Conan utters to Tamara as a kind of personal credo: "I live. I love. I slay. I am content."

For much of the movie Morris simply lets the loquacious McKinney talk, and she never, ever stops. And she never disappoints.

There are scenes here and there that are worthy, but many that aren't. Lipsky tries to use dialogue to cover up weaknesses in other areas - such as why these people behave the way they do. Some of the movie is inviting, some of it off-putting.

By the time the film reaches its implausible climax, it is far too late to rescue the story from the limbo that lies between ugly history and slick entertainment.

Director Ruben Fleischer, who directed Eisenberg in the worlds-better "Zombieland," never finds that kind of successful groove here, instead bouncing from one set piece to another, with vastly inconsistent results.

It's entertaining at face value, but they never let it be just that.

The acting is uniformly excellent, and the cause - dragging the beginnings of civil rights into Jackson, Miss., at great risk - couldn't be nobler. What the film lacks is a strong point of view.

One of the things that pushes Jig beyond what it might have been otherwise is that not everything works out as you might have liked.

Thanks to a particularly even-handed job by director Michael Rapaport, the story emerges as compelling, even for non-fans in the audience.

Shot in verite style with handheld cameras and rule-breaking quick cuts, Cahill's film moves slowly between moments of heartache and quiet beauty.

Terri is almost an anti-teen-coming-of-age teen-coming-of-age movie. And it's terrific.

Once you see that ape, named Caesar, riding a galloping horse in triumph, it's awfully hard not to get sucked in. It's not dumb fun, exactly. It's smart dumb fun.

It's hard not to be disappointed with The Change-Up, which in the end follows the basic conventions of the switched-identity genre, if more profanely, changing up not much at all.

He's always on - this is a documentary, after all, so even when O'Brien is offstage, he's still performing in some capacity, cracking wise at the camera, of whose presence he is acutely aware.

Shown in flashbacks, the story of 10-year-old Sarah Starzynski is powerful, thanks in large part to the luminous screen presence of young Mélusine Mayance.

Stone is becoming a dependable go-to choice for comedies, brimming with charisma.

Exactly what it sounds like: a cowboy movie and an alien movie thrown together, a genre mash-up that's more fun than good, but pretty good nonetheless.

Wayne Wang directed "The Joy Luck Club," a fine, sentimental look at Chinese women. Now he presents another look at Chinese sisterhood in Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, and it feels like a shallow imitation: Imagine getting Kate Hudson when you expect Goldie Hawn.

A Little Help is worth watching, mostly for Fischer.

Patricia Clarkson is kind of funny as Jamie's mom, an unreformed hippie. And Timberlake and Kunis get in a few good laughs before it's over. But with such a well-worn story, you can't shake the idea you've seen this kind of thing before.

None of the characters, save Ada, is interesting enough to sustain the creaky joints of the convention of the story mechanism.

At times hilarious but ultimately heartbreaking, Project Nim is a great chronicle of the 1970s and all the nutty ideas that implies; academia in particular comes in for a hard reckoning.

Sweet, gentle and defiantly retro (the 2-D hand-drawn animation is superb), the movie is irresistibly charming.

With shifting loyalties, unlikely heroes, truths revealed and a little help from friends, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 winds the series up in a most-satisfying fashion.

For most of the film, Weitz, riding a fantastic performance by Demián Bichir as the landscaper in question, succeeds in showing the day-to-day struggles that exist beneath the political rhetoric and upper-case headlines.

Let's not pretend otherwise: The comedy here is profane, juvenile, silly. Fine by me, because some of it also is hilarious.

It's stupid, then it veers toward the absurd, but with James at its center it remains sort of sweet throughout. You can't hate James or the movie; both are just sort of dopey but well-meaning.

The film is interesting and at times enlightening, but it's all over the map.

Queen to Play falls somewhat into the "Pygmalion" template, but watching Bonnaire's Helene find herself makes it worthy in its own right.

If there is a saving grace to Monte Carlo, it's that the frothy film strikes a nice balance between the ridiculous and the, well, slightly less ridiculous.

The movie falls flat, playing like the best-cast bland romantic comedy you've ever seen.

This "Transformers" is better than the second film (though that's not saying much), with some enjoyable bits here and there.

As much as his admirers praise him, they also say they don't know much about him or his private life. Press opens a small window into that world.

If there is a common thread, it's that for all these people life is not a passive activity. They live their lives, largely in the ways they've wanted to, and don't just wait around to see what's next.

A beautifully made, glorious mess.

A delightful film - gentle, playful, creative and ultimately happy - though it's a tricky journey.

Probably it's a combination of those and other elements that leads to Diaz's bad teacher not being as bad as she might have been and Bad Teacher not as good as it could have been.

What Cars 2 lacks is that moment the best Pixar films have, when parents and children alike stand slack-jawed with awe at something wonderful happening on-screen - when the films move beyond mere entertainment and become something more, something better.

Thanks to Highmore's performance, George is worth sticking around for - and thanks almost exclusively to Highmore and Roberts, so is The Art of Getting By.

What Sheen and Bello provide, however, is searing acting. Their performances - genuine, awkward, difficult - are not always easy to watch but never are less than tremendous.

There's nothing bad about Skateland, in fact, particularly for those old enough to remember the clothes, the feathered hair and the soundtrack. There's just nothing new, or anything that hasn't been done before, and better.

Director Mark Waters manages to wring some charm out of the film, and out of Carrey.

Beautiful, baffling, poetic, pretentious, it's one big ball of moviedom. Malick tackles the whole shooting match, pondering (and showing) the creation of the universe, life itself, death and the afterlife, and everything in between.

There are moments when this funny, self-consciously quirky film feels a bit like a Welsh "Napoleon Dynamite."

The story is a grab bag of only-in-the-movies kid problems and ridiculous adult behavior.

It is just a tremendous amount of fun.

An unapologetic love letter to the popular board game. It's also almost - but not quite - something more.

It's also a head-scratcher: How did a movie this stubbornly old-fashioned ever get made by such a trendy French director as Francois Ozon.

A tremendously entertaining take on film noir, with all the usual elements of the genre in play - crime, death, possibly murder and doomed romance.

X-Men: First Class isn't anywhere close to being a genre classic like "Spider-Man 2" or "The Dark Knight," but it is good enough to rejuvenate a franchise stuck on idle.

Greenwood is fantastic; his Meek occasionally lets down his facade of omniscience - but only occasionally. And Williams gives Emily not dignity exactly, but a calm, steely insistence on survival.

A delicious trifle for anyone who has ever dreamt of bantering about the cinema with Luis Buñuel or lounging at the piano to hear Cole Porter sing "Let's Do It."

This isn't even really a sequel to the hilarious 2009 comedy smash set in Las Vegas. It's virtually the same movie, just transferred to another continent and with the raunch wildly amped up.

A precisely calibrated crowd-pleasing machine, balancing action, comedy and just the bare minimum of pathos.

Yun's performance is genuinely beautiful, a haunting expression of life, of its disappointments and its possibilities, rendered in a way that befits the title.

Gibson's performance, at times subtle, at times showy and never less than remarkable, is what makes The Beaver worth seeing.

Depp's performance is still one of the few bright spots in the movie. Richards is back, too, in an all-too-brief appearance as Sparrow's father.

Depending on your own relationship with food, the pro-vegetarian documentary Forks Over Knives may be an inspiring call to action, a tedious bit of propaganda or a 90-minute guilt trip.

Everything Must Go leaves the resolution open, not telegraphing Nick's future. It is as unsettled as life, and the film is all the better for it.