A film that dares to be smart, reasonably complicated and scary while swashing its buckles.

Logan's so carried away by computerized magic that he forgets to make sense.

The film takes place half in English, half in French. The chilly, responsibility-laden world of British society contrasts with the sunny, relaxed quality of life in fare-thee-well France. If these seem like cliches, Ozon and Bernheim exploit them so adroitly that they never become stale.

When Elle Woods watches "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" for inspiration in the middle of Legally Blonde 2, you have to admire the nerve of the people who made this comedy: "Smith" is to LB2 what jumbo jets are to ultralight gliders. But nerve is all they've got.

Though this film doesn't have the novelty value of the first or the complex plotting of the second, it boasts the most spectacular single sequence.

I think Garland and Boyle just want to make our flesh creep by showing someone else's flesh decaying. If that's their aim, they achieved it.

The shreds have vanished in Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, which runs at that speed during its stunts but is utterly out of gas in every other way.

Wilson brings low-wattage amiability to his part, as always. Hudson's mismatched with him but tries to set him afire.

The Hulk has a split personality: Two-thirds come from director Ang Lee, one-third from '60s comic book creator Stan Lee.

It's an uncoordinated, flailing hodgepodge of music videos, chases, crashes and moronic plot twists.

Souza and Shelton throw in all kinds of ridiculous devices they learned in second-year screenwriting class.

sSo pleasingly forgettable that I spent most of the movie mentally casting American actors for the inevitable remake.

Without a plausible script, crisp dialogue or rounded characters, the majority of the picture will sag gracelessly.

You can say nothing of Castle-Hughes except that she's already a movie star: The camera loves her and we do, too.

After concocting one tense crime at the beginning, the writers can't do any better than to imitate it later.

Pixar's employees, masters of computer-generated animation, capture the look of the ocean like no artists before.

Brooks has long since mastered his whiny/neurotic persona, and Douglas does a passable version of giddy craziness. The young folks get lost in the shuffle, which leaves Suchet to steal the show with his fey, moist-eyed delivery. In this case, that's petty larceny.

Any story from the "Patch Adams" team of director Tom Shadyac and writer Steve Oedekerk is bound to end up floating in a soup of moral homilies, and "Bruce" does.

Movies can certainly be worse than bad sitcoms, and this is one of them.

One dazzling (if overlong) bridge: technologically advanced, brilliantly designed, spectacularly executed, solid as steel in its unspectacular elements. But unlike its 1999 predecessor, this is a movie that nobody but avid video gamers and motorcyclists needs to see more than once.

Predictable but agreeable time-waster.

His (LaBute) observation of human nature is keener than before, his dialogue more attuned to ambiguities.

The plot's as thin as a debutante's cigarette case.

Unobtrusively satisfying.

Bardem delivers the kind of performance the director might have given himself: subdued, thoughtful, wry, sometimes a bit too detached.

A follow-up with as much artistic integrity, complexity, humor and well-designed action as the original.

The terrific Spellbound really isn't about the ability to tear words apart letter by letter. It's about nerve-wracking competitiveness.

The outcome is alternately unsatisfying, meaningless, contradictory and laughable.