This quiet, contemplative gem of a film paints a painfully accurate portrait of familial love, loss, and healing-by-degrees among the migrant communities bordering San Antonio.

It's not a great action dust-up by any means.

I Served the King of England, like its hero, is surrounded by and infused with the potential for meaning but feels like a lark: a bit of nothing whistling past the graveyard of 20th century European history without a thing to do but indulge itself.

College, a film so persistently loud and annoying that it single-handedly makes the case for drugging yourself with a roofie.

There's no nice way to say this, so I'll just say it: Writer/directors Friedberg and Seltzer are a scourge.

Lovely to look at, Year of the Fish is an animated feature that pops off the screen like a goldfish leaping free of its bowl.

If you're looking for a few hours of mindless, uncomplicated, air-conditioned escapism to get you through a hot late-summer's evening, I'd recommend you look some place other than Traitor.

Anderson has neutered the original film's outrageously transgressive macadam mayhem and completely stripped the story of its pointedly political social satire, making this Death Race one of the most boring drags of all time.

This empty-headed comedy about a Playmate who finds herself a house mother to a group of misfit sorority sisters is little more than a recycled version of "Legally Blonde" with bunny ears.

Cube is excellent as the doughy, rumpled ex-somebody who finds new life in helping to save somebody else's.

Arquette wander in and out of frame, but like everyone else in this film, they're eclipsed by Coogan's gloriously unhinged performance, which has the lunatic, semi-meta tone of a parody within a parody.

The Roberts are unforgettable figures, and their insiders' perspective and ultimate survival and rebirth provide an exhilarating example of how wondrous things can emerge from the flood.

Wilson is buoyed by a sporadically witty script, and while there are no surprises whatsoever in the story, his goofy, puppylike charm renders what could have been a disaster merely an unfortunate event.

Story is entirely insignificant in The Clone Wars.

Something is terribly amiss when the American actors sound like English is their second language.

Adding to weirdness is a tacked-on, live-action appearance from the real Aldrin, who reassures kids and terrified X-Files fans that there weren't, in fact, any houseflies on board Apollo 11.

An effective sound design enhances several of the film's sudden frights, and Sutherland, who appears in almost every scene, is a predictably solid presence.

All that's missing from the director's new vision of the world is the pipe organ and the choir of angels.

A Girl Cut in Two is Hitchcock sans the whodunit, essentially a long preamble of seduction and spiritual ruin, capped by a crime everyone saw coming (and an eye-dazzling coda that twists the title from metaphor to … something else).

Instead of entering the jungle to find the heart of darkness, Stiller (the director, co-star, and co-writer of Tropic Thunder) goes in to take aim at the Achilles heel of Hollywood: its utter pomposity and self-importance.

Smart and self-deprecating story about love and mortality: It’s merely a winter's tale told with a summer's palette.

The story is a shambles, incoherent throughout, veined with tirelessly wearying flashbacks, hallucinations, and just plain old lousy storytelling.

A film that is at once elegant and sublimely silly.

Stuff the cork back in: This wine movie was sold before its time.

If you had any notions of getting through The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 without having your emotions pushed, prodded, pounded, and kneaded like so much pizza dough, you can forget about them right now.

When embraced on its own terms, the film will provide an ironic bridge for those who want to share a greater closeness with Smith.

Frozen River skates matter-of-factly on thin ice.

May not be grade-A prime, but it ain't chopped liver either.