A stroll with these characters is a refreshing break from from the usual film exercises.

Coprophiliacs looking for a movie that really rings their chimes will be positively tintinnabulating from this arthouse horror number.

Just as marriage does not banish aloneness, proximity to the characters onscreen doesn't unlock any special connection to them.

Part unfunny sitcom, part post-"Gigli" career resurrection strategy, and all bad.

It's not rocket science making nonstop action feel semi-fresh, and The Losers’ script by Peter Berg and James Vanderbilt manages to render each individual, um, a loser in the broadest and most memorable strokes. It's not a masterpiece, either, but it'll do until Hannibal, Murdock, and the rest the A-gamers start blowing things up come June.

The piece is a tribute to the 1992 film "Troll 2" and its many fans, who have dubbed it the "best worst movie" ever made.

Mines the traditional Western genre and infuses it with fresh, frequently hilarious life.

The camera may dive deep, but the content skims mere surface.

Slight but agreeable picture.

Vaughn did a cracking good caper film with a pre-007 Daniel Craig called "Layer Cake" six years ago, but Kick-Ass has little of that film's heady panache and instead batters you about the face and neck with wildly over-the-top fountains of gore, bone-cracking slow-motion, and, yes, Cage, who dials his acting down a few notches from the kicky Herzogian mindf---ery of "Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans."

Borte may have lost his way on this film, but there is one thing he has done for America: He has demonstrated the correct way of spelling the plural of the surname Jones. Grammarians, if few others, will be satisfied.

When you get to the end of The City of Your Final Destination, you may discover that there is no there there.

It’s endlessly arguable and open for debate. At the very least, we can all agree that Banksy has found a new wall on which to plaster his art – that of the silver screen.

Campanella’s script (which is adapted from a novel by Eduardo Sacheri) bogs down, however, when the focus of the story is on Benjamín, who is dogged by his memories and his inability to make a play for Irene.

Never breaks out of its dullsville rut.

A solid, intermittently excellent, and extremely exsanguinatory take on what Stephen King famously referred to as the "Spam in a cabin" genre.

This romance isn't a sunshine-dappled meadow, it's a thicket of thorny rosebushes atop a rocky precipice. Both actors are alarmingly natural in their roles and Ade's direction is a model of subtly shifting tones and tempers.

Benjamin Bratt ably depicts both sides of this character and creates a memorable portrait in the process.

I’ve seen sick kids exploited for all sorts of reasons – usually as easy ploys to manipulate emotions but sometimes to sell things or encourage philanthropic outpourings – but Letters to God takes the cake (make that the holy wafer).

It's a finely calibrated, spiraling lesson in what NOT to do when engaging in adultery, blackmail, arson, and general antisocial behaviors, and in its best moments it recalls the everyday darkness of James M. Cain: average people doing awful things in an amoral and uncaring universe.

The images are vivid, their meanings much less so.

Could have used a touch of Madea’s down-home, self-reliant wisdom to spice up the marital doldrums of these four buppie couples.

There are a number of cheeky winks from the filmmakers specifically aimed at Harryhausen fans; in the end, though, Leterrier's Clash of the Titans is nearly as messy an assemblage of mythic odds and ends as the original.

The title, The Last Song, may be wishful thinking for some, but the best they can probably hope for is the close of the era of Hannah Montana movies.

Consider this yet another nail in the Eighties coffin.

While Chloe may seem reminiscent of Egoyan’s outlandish thriller "Where the Truth Lies," it also calls to mind another would-be thriller about marital infidelity that starred Neeson and was utterly ludicrous: "The Other Man."

The swarming dragon attacks may truly frighten the littlest viewers, but the depiction of the pleasures of flight and the conquering of one’s fears should make How to Train Your Dragon a perennial delight.

Where has all the fun science-fiction filmmaking gone?