Reminded me most of Jean Genet's "Un chant d'amour," with bondage and latex replacing incarceration and cigarettes. This is not to say that it's equally good or poetic, but the eroticizing of a whole universe is no less apparent.

Director Zak Tucker is a bit too fond of jump cuts as signifiers of edginess. Still, when the material doesn't get in the way he's pretty good at getting across the emotional content.

The video is heavy on actors and other showbiz types, and the self-centered Gurwitch doesn't distinguish between a factory worker laid off after decades on the job and an actor getting rejected during tryouts.

Once the gore and suspense take over, this becomes mechanical and unpleasant.

Absolutely nothing funny happens during their drive to Georgetown for an interview, even with Donny Osmond along for the ride.

Sitting through this barrage of all-purpose insults aimed at obvious targets was an unenlightening chore.

Another virtual-reality SF movie -- and you're not likely to care.

This high-decibel shocker is an insult to intelligence and faith alike.

Producers Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg deploy an arsenal of noisy special effects to demonstrate the invaders' high-tech superiority, which makes Olyphant's inability to breach an Internet firewall look pretty silly.

Amiable screwball comedy.

Costars John Cleese, Jean Reno, Alfred Molina, Andy Garcia, and Jeremy Irons look either bored or desperate, gasping for laughs in an airless screenplay.

A genial cast and moderately funny script prevail over the sort of sappy music cues and white-bread settings that have become the grating norm in Hollywood rom-coms.

Originality and even a certain amount of obscurity are more appealing than formula. This doesn't work, but I was never bored.

Seems more theatrical than cinematic, needing the kind of direct address that only a stage can provide.

Most of the action in this 2001 indie drama takes place on computer screens, with grainy faces framed by sharp little boxes; the 21st-century conceit is topical enough but the characters and their problems couldn't be more stale.

There are many plot complications, most designed to get us to applaud our tolerance of religious differences.

A ragbag of shopworn ideas nicked from Philip K. Dick, this sci-fi thriller never stops finding new ways to make no sense.

Misguided version of one of the Bard's best comedies.

Pegg has some good obnoxious moments, but he's only a few movies away from becoming Dudley Moore.

Hits the ground running and never looks back. But after an hour of propulsive pacing the shock value wears off, and all that's left is pop-up carnage.

The story is painfully slow.

Script and direction are both fairly slapdash, but the actors and the overall sweetness keep this chugging along on some level .

While it's loaded with visceral thrills, it never rises above the level of an extended video game or an advertisement for the military.

It's a victory of tone over storytelling, though perhaps a Pyrrhic one.

Without the grandiose narrative structure of the six live-action releases, this feels even more pointless, a mechanical attempt to milk the kids for every last dime.

The story unfolds briskly in the polished mode of a classic horror movie, then tanks after a plot twist at the midpoint alters the mood and slows the pace. Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father) directed an ill-conceived screenplay that could have worked only as camp.

Like so many other CGI behemoths, this dull action fantasy ultimately squashes rather than inspires one's sense of wonder.

Under the circumstances, MacLaine, Costner, and Ruffalo acquit themselves well.