In an era where monster mythology has become raw material for all sorts of mediocrity, Priest is one of the best examples of a broad-scale vampire blockbuster.

Essentially a sexually charged two-hander with blunt allegorical implications, Kôji Wakamatsu's one-note follow-up to United Red Army is a disappointing affair, visually indifferent and thematically simplistic.

Burns captures the look and spirit of the times with perfect detail.

Akin to a stroll through a gallery, L'amour Fou is meditative and magically eye-opening.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt dominates this slight, worth-a-watch dramedy.

This is strictly talking heads fare, broken up with movie clips, stills and home movies; fortunately, Jack Cardiff's ephemera are better than yours.

The glossy Manhattan footage, as hermetic as Woody Allen's rendition of New York, is engagingly expensive-looking at least, but the cast is barely given anything to work with.

Viewers will find its emotional arc obvious and familiar, although the summoning of those emotions is where the movie derives its power.

It's a movie about a life, and life can be kinda funny and kinda poignant, even when it's full of ordinary things, like age, sickness and loss.

Smarter than expected, even if it's too ragged to truly resonate.

The film is terrific: smart, sexy and funny.

Stake Land is the movie "The Road" should have been.

Unfortunately, the committee-designed script never finds a consistent balance between building characters, delivering action and pushing the story forward.

From its baldly overwritten dialogue to its claustrophobically stingy use of locations, Dragons is underdone in every way.

Hobo is trash cinema through and through and gives fans everything they want from a drive-in throwback. That's something that doesn't happen often.

Andrea Dunbar's portrait here is unforgiving; comparable to Joan Crawford in "Mommy Dearest" or Tobias Wolff's brass-knuckled dad in "This Boy's Life."

A breakthrough comedy, a four-square piece of populist fun that ranks as quite possibly the best mainstream American comedy in years-at least since "The 40-Year-Old Virgin."

Dylan Dog feels like its ideas were stolen from western entertainment-a mash-up of sexy vampires, burly werewolves, and comical-gross zombies-which Hollywood then stole back from the Europeans, forgetting that other movies have explored that evil terrain thoroughly, exhaustively and better.

Writer/director Chris Ordal's debut feature is not a documentary nor is it precisely a biopic. Instead the drama captures the artist at a pivotal moment in time.

Italian audiences are bound to like it and the broadness of plot and appeal suggests casual fans of foreign film should, too.

Panettiere's performance has the straightforwardness of a jumbo crayon.

A highly entertaining original movie that's funny, touching and real.

It's difficult to imagine a more fascinating case of sociopathic, obsessive-compulsive behavior, or a more disciplined, engrossing study of it. And yet a vital ingredient is missing.

Fans of the filmmaker should thrill at the prospect of a new project, but the film's lackadaisical pacing and preoccupation with pulling the rug out from under the audience.

The look is appealing, but the dark third act and heavy themes may alienate family audiences.

The resulting distillation is brisk, light and engaging with none of the cheap shots that usually accompany any discussion of ventriloquism. If anything, Goffman is too gentle, refusing to pursue his charges into their darker corners.

With his (Herzog) idiosyncratic blend of serendipity, bluntness and mischievous irony, he's able to get at deep questions like no other documentarian.

It's pithy and funny in that continuous smile kind of way that you don't notice until you're half way through it.