Fans of the Polish brothers and fans of inspirational movies may all depart the theatre scratching their heads: The Astronaut Farmer is not exactly the movie any of these viewers expected to see. This is almost always a good thing – even if the movie is a deserved head-scratcher.

The filmmakers assume familiarity with the show's documentary premise and in-jokes (e.g., deputy Garant giving all his commands in French), which will make the movie even less accessible to novices.

It's no "Dellamorte Dellamore," but neither is it "Uwe Boll," a smallish favor we should all be thankful for.

Unfortunately for Barbara and for us, what makes William Wilberforce a great man is also what makes him a bore.

For the most part, it's all fairly predictable material, although McAvoy and his costars invest the movie with dynamic performances that manage to keep the story's characters just this side of stereotype and mediocrity.

The hippies, the ravers, the bumbling bobbies and nonplussed locals, the mud, the rush of being in the crush, up against the barricades, torn between the need for a restroom and the need for more room, to dance, to sing, to carry on like a stark loony regardless of your faraway day job – all of this is captured by Temple's unblinking, seemingly everywhere-at-once eye.

These days it's going to take a pretty exceptional political thriller to top our political reality for sheer suspense and treachery, and though director Ray (Shattered Glass) provides a few choice moments of psychological tension, nothing in his film can hope to outpace the anxiety caused by the appearance of former Attorney General John Ashcroft in its opening scene.

When the special effects aren’t getting in the way, the kids’ imaginary scenes have a hazy, shimmering quality, as if the potential of a long afternoon with no homework could be measured in waves.

Has all the sugar-injected horsepower of a 6-year-old on a Big Wheel.

With her lithe frame and insouciantly boyish mop of blond hair, De France is a particularly French sort of film heroine.

The war might be over, but fear and hope remain locked in a rapturous stranglehold amidst the rubble.

Unflinchingly addressing issues of class and race, Perry juggles multiple plot lines and the result emerges as (dare I say?) a surprising mix of Frank Capra and Douglas Sirk.

The result is either a brilliant bit of idol worship satire or a sign of the apocalypse. Despite the sad fact that audiences will surely settle for this watered down, kind of funny attempt at the genre, I couldn't help but enjoy the ride a little.

Bamako, with Sissako's poetic blend of the humdrum and the theoretical, is altogether fascinating. Dramatic features born and bred on the African continent are rare commodities on these shores, and the opportunities they offer can stretch far beyond film appreciation and into the realm of world understanding.

Who would have thought mass murder and cannibalism could be so dull?

The fun in Norbit is watching Murphy at work – the guy has a knack for bringing the physicality of his comic characters to life.

Whether their goal is to nourish the faithful or lure the heathens is not always clear. The only thing that's clear is that The Last Sin Eater serves neither of these higher purposes.

With a lazy, cliché, rabid plot and paper-thin character development, Because I Said So might as well have been directed by a trained chimpanzee.

This spook story is a surprisingly mediocre Hollywood debut for Hong Kong's Pang brothers.

In the end, it's all la dolce vita no matter how you look at it.

Irony and unwavering idealism are bound up in this lengthy but instantly engaging and informative documentary.

Not as yummy as it sounds, true, but nowhere near as godawful as "Van Helsing," a small mercy but very much appreciated.

Now it's just another romantic comedy, neither terribly bad nor truly great, buoyed along on currents of hope and post-traumatic good cheer.

I've rarely seen a movie as hostile as this one, both to its audience and to its protagonists, and I don't think I realized before just how mean-spirited comedy can get (and I was raised on the Three Stooges).

Half the time the movie wants to be balls-out weird, and it is. But the other half – the half with the good guys – is plodding procedural fare.

With Seraphim Falls, Brosnan shows himself, finally, to be an actor of real skill – rather than just a pretty face, a great head of hair, and a buttery British accent – capable not only of playing a real human being but one with a tortured soul and a dodgy past as well.

The first film was near-mythic in its tone and treatment of its characters, while this remake barely serves as a primer in how not to generate suspense.

Other than the unsatisfactory ending, however, there's much that is commendable in the The Italian, not the least of which are its social criticisms of the buying and selling of children through the adoption businesses currently thriving in Russia and neighboring eastern European countries. In some respects, unfortunately, not much has changed since the world was introduced to little Oliver Twist nearly two centuries ago.