This is possibly the funniest lesbian romp since "Go Fish."

Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski's script may in spots be as much of a skim job as their one for "Ed Wood," but it's almost as sweet and as likable, and if the movie can't ever practice what it and its hillbilly hero preach--the only "beaver" shot in the movie involves a corpse--its heart is certainly in the right place.

This handsome period drama is the sort of quiet, homespun story that Duvall, who served as executive producer, has always loved.

The film is ferociously kinetic and full of visual surprises, though its gut-churning reputation doesn't seem fully deserved: if anything the gore is too picturesque and studied, an abstract decorator's mix of oozing, slimy color, like some exotic species of new-wave interior design.

This British drama is handsomely textured and beautifully acted, though the script often feels giddily out of touch with the essential creepiness of the scenario.

As in so many summer behemoths, the real stars are the projectiles--in this case, arrows with their own point-of-view shots, zipping through the air and finding their targets with pinpoint accuracy.

Adapted from a novel by Gabriel Loidolt, this is most interesting for its textured family history and pained religiosity.

There's no real resonance between the two halves of the film, yet Allen keeps things moving quickly enough that the film only reveals its basic shapelessness once it's over.

Cross the cold war nostalgia of "Good Bye, Lenin!" with the larcenous high jinks of "The Producers" and you've got the gist of this zany Russian screwball comedy.

Coogan's screen persona is vain, dim, angry, and deeply miserable, and his handful of scenes here with a smilingly harsh Catherine Keener are little masterpieces of comic sadomasochism.

Director James Watkins (Eden Lake) treats the material with surprising reverence, generating good clean scares from atmosphere and character revelations rather than shock editing or gore.

It aims for a hushed, hypnotic, incantatory effect, and it does succeed in inducing some kind of trance.

Ridiculously ambitious, though often likable and touching in its sincerity.

If your taste runs in this direction, you're bound to be amused.

Disturbing true-crime documentary.

Fine character work by Juliet Stevenson, Archie Panjabi, and Bollywood regular Anupam Kher make this well worth seeing.

"A Film by David Schwimmer" is not the sort of credit that fills me with anticipation, but I must admit he's done a solid job with this queasy drama about the rape of a 12-year-old Wilmette girl.

An honorable, squeaky-clean children's drama, this is notable for its relatively penetrating morality and for Scott Wilson's fine performance as the meanest man in town.

Eventually develops into a pleasantly bombastic Bond-style adventure.

The movie, to its credit, recognizes that the quest for spirituality sometimes leads to another pew.

It's as entertaining and informative as anything Mann's ever done, and as good an example of grass humor as you're likely to find anywhere.

Walsh’s directness gives the film an understated quality that may seem anachronistic today but has real cinematic integrity.

Comes to the comforting conclusion that they're just as alienated, idealistic, and vulnerable as the baby boomers of the 1960s.

Writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick wring a surprising amount of juice from the familiar premise, and director Ruben Fleischer heaps on the gore without burying their character-based comedy and surprisingly heartfelt moments. This is worth seeing just for the title sequence.

Tarantino has already caught some flack for daring to use the Holocaust as material for another of his bloody live-action cartoons, but of course the generation that experienced it for real has mostly faded away. In that sense Inglourious Basterds is a social marker as startling as "Easy Rider" was in its day.

The fluidity with which the story frequently makes the transition between the different characters' perspectives is refreshing, even daring.

A frightening portrait of a man whose technological genius fails to compensate for his gaping emotional deficits.

An E.T. spin-off, but it's a very likable and imaginative one.