The movie is full of holes - it lacks the precision and verve of a Francis Veber farce like "The Dinner Game" - but the two actors brew up a sane kind of comedy from their fractious rapport.

Kasi Lemmons' movie is called Talk to Me, but what it really does is sing to you, in the argot and cadences of soul, jazz, rock and rhythm and blues.

The whole film is about innocence and experience, and if it isn't a Blakean song, it is a sturdy and vibrant piece of prose.

Blethyn's performance belongs in another movie, not this bipolar comedy-drama.

The scenes between Dengler and Duane, between a force of nature and a force of reason, are the real heart of the film.

The whole thing is too giddy to be taken seriously and too much of a confection to leave much of a lasting impression. But for 140 minutes, at least, it should give non-fanboys at least an idea of what all the fuss is about.

Nothing in this film -- even Robin Williams, alas -- is funny.

Infuriating and funny, the film forges a disturbing diagram from the avarice and chaos of a slapdash, heartless system.

Ratatouille is a sublime dish of a movie, and the company's piece de resistance.

It's like a Harlequin romance trying to pass itself off as something deeper and more profound.

The film's action doesn't disappoint; if anything, it ups the adrenaline ante considerably.

A colossal dud.

A Mighty Heart has the surface tension of a first-rate docudrama but neither the passion nor the vision to encompass its powerhouse subject.

The movie needs more incident and complication; it's modest to a fault.

Few films even try to render the full range of emotions and sensations in female sexuality as the aptly titled Lady Chatterley, directed and co-written by a Frenchwoman, Pascale Ferran.

You Kill Me kills you softly with its smiles.

What keeps the Fantastic Four franchise alive is the Human Torch's emotional fire and the Silver Surfer's melancholy ice.

Bright semi-adult entertainment.

The pleasures of Ocean's Thirteen are so slight as to be eminently forgettable. Most of the "twists" in the plot are of the ho-hum variety; it's not that one sees them coming, but that they don't amount to much when they show up.

Best of all is Jeff Bridges as the voice of Geek, a laid-back philosopher-penguin who becomes Cody's low-key guru, mentoring him in the ways of the wave.

Cotillard brings honesty to histrionics. She makes Piaf - "the little sparrow" - soar.

Gracie is painfully earnest, which might be OK were it not also painfully trite, painfully cliched and painfully formulaic.

The story line meanders and too many scenes drone on; Knocked Up is in serious need of a good editor. But the laughs are plentiful, and it's the rare movie these days where one doesn't feel guilty about finding the whole thing funny.

Costner succumbs to terminal self-seriousness when he makes a movie of his own either as the director or, in this case, a producer.

The enthralling documentary Crazy Love is about how a high-flying lawyer's obsession with a young beauty blinded her, metaphorically and literally.

A movie made at wits' end. There are four or five authentic laughs in the whole 170-minute extravaganza.

Journey is weary, yet imaginative.

So far in this year's cartoon feature sweepstakes, Shrek the Third rules.