Overall, the movie stresses the more painful and awkward moments; moments that might be classified as "heartwarming" are rare. This results in a very cynical tone and I suspect that was not the desired effect.

Full of nuanced performances (Streep in particular) and wonderfully enveloping music.

Viewed entirely on the exceptional virtues of its CGI animation (flashbacks occur via traditional, hand-drawn animation) and its occasionally raunchy humor, Un Gallo con Mucho Huevos is a small gem of a film. But its trivialization of cockfighting will surely be a rightful stumbling block for many potential audience members.

Fascinating, partly because of its originality.

Prelude to a Kiss holds its own as a comedy, especially considering the lightweight competition this summer. It's just too bad it never really rises to its promise as a romance.

Director of photography Robert Murphy deserves a Spirit Award of his own for his breathtaking and evocative lensing of ever-cinematic Berlin and Montenegro, and Stephen Coates’ melancholic score is equally suited to the story at hand.

It's not nearly as mediocre a two hours as the trailers would have you think.

Suffers from Frey’s diluted multitasking. The director, writer, and star are not equally talented.

Unfortunately offers up the same old recipe, with a soupçon of variation to make those jump-scares not feel like day-old bread.

This big-screen version of Wilde's stylish match of deceit and honor, loyalty and betrayal, is more parry than thrust.

Dark Shadows seems more like a mash-up of leftover ideas from "Beetlejuice," "Edward Scissorhands," "Sleepy Hollow," and "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" – but they're ideas without the souls of characters.

It's all pretty involving and sweetly ingratiating in a Charlotte's Web-by kind of way.

The film’s gear change between mournfulness and madness is stuck in idle.

Unfortunately, almost none of that astonishing true story makes it into The Aeronauts, a mangled retelling that cuts out Coxwell and replaces him with Amelia Wren (Jones), a gestalt character based on several women aerial explorers of the time.

What I learned from Monrovia, Indiana is that I – personally – am bored by mattress shopping, City Council arguments over fire hydrants, and high school band concerts I am not obligated by shared DNA to attend.

Up-and-comer LaBeouf (Holes) is a young actor to watch, but he's had better opportunities than this teen thriller to show what he's capable of.

It’s just too much drama for one modest film to service adequately. In an effort to cram it all in, scenes abruptly jump from one to the next with nary a smooth transition in sight, relationships evolve far too quickly, and certain subplots drop out of the mix only to resurface, jarringly, much later.

There's something about that extra layer of distancing that a book can offer and the screen can't, which in this case might account for why film viewers feel vaguely discomforted by an icky fifth-wheel sensation.

As a heartwarming tribute to the courage of firefighters, Ladder 49 delivers.

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

The transitions from performance to song and to reality are strained and awkward.

While this is hardly "Breaker Morant," it's nowhere near as mawkish or cloying as it could have been.

A terrific cast, intelligent direction, state-of-the-art special effects, a strong story, and skilled narrative construction all end up being much ado about not very much.

Graceland is terrific entertainment, but I can’t decide if it’s a cautionary tale, an exercise in moral relativism, or an exploitation film. There’s the final conundrum.

Infused with enough infectious charm to make us forget how dopey the plot is and become swept up in its breezy countenance.

The best ingredient is the way Ray relates to his son. Those moments – sometimes quiet, but often volatile – lift the film up from being a turgid episode of "Fargo" or "Justified."

This is meat-and-potatoes (and bullets) action filmmaking, although, really, that title's got to go.

Hot Rod is a stupid movie about stupid people doing stupid things.