This may be a remake of a Swedish film from 2002 (itself based on a novel), but unspooling in the cineplex it feels more akin to one of emo godhead Conor Oberst's more emotionally mopey musical diversions.

Kennedy’s humor comes from the broad, brainless, lowest-common-denominator school (in other words, he was born to play a grown man with the intelligence of an boy).

This pseudo-Phildickian actioner is chum for the bigger fish to come this summer; for Moore, it's a slummer.

Time and again, Devor sabotages his own attempt to bring "zoos," literally and figuratively, into the light.

The most originally funny movie to hit U.S. screens in a while.

Wilson and Beckinsale, as the couple on the rocks, do their damnedest to go along for the creepfest, but nothing in Vacancy manages to come anywhere close to the quiet and steadily mounting dread of the real thing, much less the purview of Norman Bates or his beloved mother.

In the dark of the theatre Fracture keeps it together – mainly through the sheer will of Hopkins and Gosling.

Despite a title that makes this movie sound as though it might be the latest madcap offering from Pedro Almodóvar, In the Land of Women is a much more conventional affair – a tame yet appealing melodrama about finding one's self that is alternately formulaic and unique.

Shot with the creative energy of a mediocre sitcom, the scenes play out predictable plot devices with minimal creativity and even less risk.

Count it as one of the great Hollywood mysteries – right up there with the death of Natalie Wood and the career of Vin Diesel – that we've had to wait this long for a movie starring a talking milkshake, a floating box of french fries, and a ball of ground beef.

Mainly it's messy, and I don't just mean the gouged-out eyeball in a puddle.

The fishy smell that permeates Perfect Stranger comes from all of the red herrings flopping around this absurdly plotted Hollywood thriller.

The movie feels mechanical all the way through, leaving Sadek's debut an inauspicious and ill-lubed affair.

On the plus side, Costanzo is an appealing and likable young actor who carries the film easily; he gives the impression that he is thinking deeply and mildly amused.

Dern is hilarious as the obsessive sister-in-law, Sarsgaard plays oddball dog-man to perfection, Pais is perfectly awkward as Peggy's nervous boss, Reilly rocks the subtle humor of Peggy's hunting-obsessed neighbor, and Shannon gives a breakout performance.

The cast, particularly Liotta, walk around with befuddled expressions on their faces, perhaps wondering what on earth they’re doing in this movie and how they can find a new agent ASAP.

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.

Grindhouse raises the bar for a certain kind of movie lollapalooza (and also for the kind of filmmaker who is also a showman, along the lines of a William Castle or Cecil B. De Mille). It's this injection of playfulness and fun and attention to the entire movie-going gestalt that will probably become Grindhouse's lasting contribution to movie history rather than any on-the-screen content of the movie itself.

The Hoax isn't Gere’s best movie (that honor will always and forever belong to "Days of Heaven"), but it might feature his best performance.

Full of sharp comedy, the writing and directing is skillful and reminiscent of Kasdan's first two feature-directing efforts, "The Zero Effect" and "Orange County."

You have to hand it to Texas writer/director Stephens: He wrings out a barely watchable hundred minutes here using only washed-up actors and a washed-up genre.

Pardon the pun, but audiences will reap little from this satanic backwoods juju thriller.

Nothing is very funny in this movie, and everything is predictable.

Perhaps the lesson to be learned is that just because we CAN use computer technology to give dogs goofy faces, that doesn’t mean we SHOULD.

The action set-pieces, double crosses, and narrow escapes are handsomely mounted and suspenseful as a Saturday matinee.

Blades of Glory, although mildly amusing, has the dank odor of having gone to the well once too often: Ooh, let's dress up Ferrell like an elf – or an anchorman or a NASCAR driver – and see what happens.

The Lookout marks Frank's directorial debut after years of working as a screenwriter on movies like "Get Shorty" and "Out of Sight," and though his new movie may lack the sexual tension and bubbly wit that elevated those films to rarefied heights, there's a newfound, and not unwelcome, sobriety to his writing.

Though the characters are unique and occasionally fun, they're paper-thin.