Monday asks, what happens when that thing you do with your life in lieu of a plan becomes the plan?

Low Down is a wonderful downer of a film that fits quite comfortably on the video-store shelf between "Barfly" and "Drugstore Cowboy." That said, depending on your proclivity for plunging into the cinematic depths of despair, your mileage may vary.

The characterizations are sincere, but overly familiar.

Surprisingly well-done nearly all the way around, this neither plays down to its target audience, nor fumbles the inherent childhood fantasy of the story.

Has a haunting afterglow, one that neither satisfies nor illuminates, but at least keeps the flame alive.

Mostly this is a tense, portentous, and provocative piece.

There's none of Spielberg's verbal wit or the astonishing shot composition that helped the rest of the films flourish so far above their gutsy, 1930s action serial roots. Dial of Destiny feels like a less skilled hand tracing over the work of his favorite artists: The lines may be their own, but you'll always see the superior work underneath, overshadowing it and making you wish you could see the original instead.

If anything, The Invention of Lying is too soft for the satirical promise of its premise.

Elemental is thoughtful, visually interesting, and emotionally compelling, even if it doesn’t all gel together all the time. When the clunky story falters, the vision and dedicated vocal performances of the cast carry it through, and give Elemental real heart.

Gray's direction is a languid thing, moving at roughly the speed of a maimed snail, and the cast never really gels.

Although the narrative hiccups in The Holy Land can be chalked up to the mistakes of a beginning filmmaker, they are not disruptive enough to diminish the film’s realistic impact.

Naïf meets waif in this touching yet unrealistic tale of love amongst society's write-offs. Between Masterson's schizophrenic Joon Pearl and Depp's oddball Sam, it's difficult to tell which one's the naïf and which is the waif.

I could go on and on about Zombie’s style-over-substance direction, but why bother? The Lords of Salem is so clearly a project that Zombie has had stewing in his blood-and-black-lace heart for, I assume, ever, that the fact that it’s not a masterpiece seems almost moot. It’s a head trip, to be sure, but it’s Zombie’s electric, haunted head, so my advice is just sit back and goggle.

It's a sympathomimetic monoamine that stimulates the central nervous system! Hooray epinephrine! And that's all I'm going to say about Crank.

There There skews its world ever so slightly, arriving at some nicely off-kilter insights amid its non sequiturs, but for all its neat tricks, function is definitely following form here.

There’s an earnestness amid the well-executed jump scares and gruesome pay-off, an honesty that can sometimes be in short supply in teen-centric horror.

It just devolves into the limp sort of schmaltzy conclusion you keep hoping it will avoid.

Berger’s low-key, likable ensemble film flares with brilliance in its framing concept.

It’s a little bit silly – as is Dafoe’s Kentucky-fried cowboy mechanic named Elvis – but silly is fun. In fact, one wishes it were sillier still.

At times it feels like it wants to be a comedy, à la History of the World, Part I, and at others it seems solidly part of serious dramas like Ben Hur. It’s a tricky tone to balance, and The Book of Clarence doesn’t always succeed, weakening an otherwise enjoyable and entertaining film.

The result, although more sexually provocative, is not nearly as gratifying as was his (Ziad Doueiri) breakthrough film.

It may owe much to viral shockers like "28 Days Later," but its political and personal insight elevates The Cured alongside the best of contemporary European realism.

Heady stuff, indeed, but perfect midnight-date movie fare if you’re, uh, in the mood.

It may seem damning with faint praise to call Pet Sematary just a pretty good horror film, but given how many years we’ve been devoid of quality Stephen King adaptations or wide-release genre films, fans should be pretty thrilled with what Kölsch and Wideyer have accomplished. There’s more than enough here to please horror enthusiasts and die-hard King fans alike.

The film is absolutely charming if a bit too predictable and glued more to sit-com narrative strategies and aesthetics than is healthy.

Paul is offensive solely for being so underachieving.

A playground for Malkovich – enjoyable enough but not terribly deep.

Davies and Affleck are affecting and engaging as the callow young men on the verge of independent adulthood. One wishes that we had seen more of their personal drama instead of Going All the Way's myopic male gauntlet of shrews and Jews.