The kind of quiet, effective film that burrows under the viewer's skin and takes root before you've had a chance to realize that it's permeated your constitutional makeup.

It isn't about where you get, but how you get there -- and the getting there is a chewy delight.

Mann's film is beautiful to watch. Cinematogrpaher Emmanuel Lubezki employs a washed-out, harshly lit style that makes everything look vaguely menacing and hyper-real, which is complemented by Lisa Gerrard and Pieter Bourke's Africanized score.

It's a consistently entertaining story.

There's nothing terribly wrong with Kate & Leopold -- it's just an awfully conventional upmarket romantic comedy.

Meets the required minimum dosage of feature-film attributes, and then nods out when it comes to going any further.

So many things come together so beautifully in this movie based on the life of John Forbes Nash Jr. that you're likely to find yourself willing to benignly overlook its occasional biographical lapses and narrative sweetening.

Should be required viewing for prospective parents still sitting on the spermatazoan fence; after all, you're going to need a good sense of humor, aren't you?

This is high fantasy of the best kind.

Not a man, but the romanticizing of him. A lot of jive-shit.

Iris is difficult to watch, given that it requires you to witness the transformation of the title character from a literate, vibrant woman to the ghost of her former self.

While viewers who expect a conventional suspense film may be disappointed in Lantana overall, it does succeed on a smaller, more intimate scale.

A big generational saga that woos the audience with its humor, spirit, style, and ability. Genius here is an evolutionary thing.

The story is simple and true-to-life, and the technique is naturalistic, using nonprofessional actors, photography that emphasizes the characters' environment, and deliberate narrative pacing that mimics real-time events.

Aiming to break the land speed record for poop 'n' piss jokes.

It's a film that you can take home and chew over later, both abrasive in its loudness and reflective in its fleeting, feminine moments of silence. Well done.

After two hours of Vera's pretty but wet-blanket direction, it's too late to ignite any fireworks, even in the hands of such capable actors.

The temporal jumps between the present and varying points in the past deprive the film of a sense of completeness; the transitions from scene to scene are largely disorienting, leaving you struggling to find your bearings.

It's a kick, it's a gas, and it gives the Rat Pack itself a run for its money.

A concept executed with bravura style, intelligent curiosity, and playful wit.

There's not much spunk here.

You get the feeling the filmmakers didn't want to make anyone think too hard about what's going on here behind the scenes of the main storyline, and that's more than a little insulting.

Goofily funny, oddly tenderhearted mock-documentary.

Something haunting is going on here, but it's as difficult for the viewers as it is for the characters to sink their teeth into anything truly satisfying.

The actors, as a powerful and convincing ensemble, are equally understated and just as devastating.

Wispy, cosmopolitan slice-of-life.

Is nothing if not exquisitely detailed: It's like a blood orange that del Toro spends the film seductively unpeeling, revealing layer upon layer of meaning and pathos.

A dead-chamber misfire, a hollowpoint dud.