The interviews throughout are the best part of the movie - the least heavy-handed, yet most effective, element. There is a message here of the necessity for tolerance, but 8: The Mormon Proposition would have been better had its makers presented it in a more consistent, artful fashion.

Although Jonah Hill has been sweetly, profanely funny in such films as "Superbad" and "Get Him to the Greek," in Cyrus he's a revelation.

You can read Emma's affair and its eventual effect on Edoardo as an inverted oedipal thing, or perhaps as a metaphor for decadence, the embodiment of a family that subconsciously realizes it's in decline and must fight to warm its blood.

Does the movie have anything new to say, anything different from John G. Avildsen's 1984 original, with Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita? Not particularly.

If you are a stickler for movies that follow the laws of, say, physics, nature and common sense, The A-Team might not be for you. If, on the other hand, you get a kick out of exchanges like this - "Are they trying to shoot down that other drone?" "No. They're trying to fly that tank" - then you're in for a treat.

A compulsively watchable look at Rivers.

Two narcissists do not a couple make, and without any actual relationship, there really isn't a movie.

A genuine triumph, a great movie with astounding performances so natural, so genuine, that you forget it's a movie.

An unruly mix of science, morality, family dysfunction, horror and finger-down-the-throat gross-out ridiculousness.

As an encore for Brand's Aldous, it's a welcome return. And for Hill, it's a chance to really shine.

For the most part the jokes here are tired. William H. Macy is a welcome presence in the small role of Phil's offbeat-but- intense boss.

A documentary that delves into what happens when the ghost stories you told as kids, the stuff of urban legends, seem to come true.

The audience should be given game controllers upon entering the theater. It wouldn't mean the film would make any more sense, but at least you'd feel like you had some say in the matter.

Jeunet's new film, Micmacs, mixes the dark, claustrophobic world of "Delicatessen" and "City of Lost Children," with the happy-ending optimism of "Amélie" and "A Very Long Engagement." It isn't a convincing graft of moods.

Sex and the City 2 isn't a feature film as much as it is consumer porn. The audience is not asked to relate to the characters, or at least what we remember of them, as much as to their shoes, their bags, their apartments, their couture, their stuff.

If you found "Shrek the Third," the third film in the "Shrek" franchise, tired, it will probably come as no surprise that Shrek Forever After is downright exhausted.

It's Douglas' movie - and you've got a fine movie.

Scott's epic - and it's hard to think of anything this big, this elaborate and, no doubt, this expensive as anything but - is very much an origination story, a prequel, if you will.

Put this title on your Netflix queue in the first place. Just give your own Mr. Right a break and don't waste your date-night dollars on the big screen.

Nothing seems real here, with everything too broadly drawn.

Bigger, louder and dumber than its predecessor, Iron Man 2 is still a lot of fun.

An enjoyable movie, in many ways a beautiful movie to look at. One only wishes he'd been a little more ambitious.

What's breathtaking here is the scope of greed, corruption, arrogance and above all cynicism on display, not just regarding the system of government but the people it ostensibly serves.

Eventually, all of the stories will come together in a somewhat contrived way. The film's parts are greater than the whole. But the parts are worth the effort.

Timothy Hutton is a good actor. So whom to blame for Multiple Sarcasms?

This is a challenging, brilliantly constructed film that, despite its patience and quiet tone, is engrossing from its first moments, especially an opening scene that encapsulates Jandal's poignant contradictions.

The humor here is on the dry side of zany, and it won't tickle every funny bone, any more than Mike Myers does, or - perhaps a more apt comparison - Terry Gilliam's tart filmic fantasies. But no matter what, you have to admit this mix of lowbrow humor and French erudition has a style of its own.

Call it what you want, but the best word to describe it is: unnecessary.