Challenges us to reconcile its snapshots of earnest entrepreneurs, colleagues, and fans with its long takes of her disillusionment.

Nicely acted and inflected, this is a very fresh piece of work.

What's most conspicuously missing is the kind of background information needed to assess many of Eichmann's statements.

The slick satire cleverly equates materialism, narcissism, misogyny, and classism with homicide, but you may laugh so loud at the protagonist that you won't be able to hear yourself laughing with him.

Shows her transition to sobriety as many ensemble stories do--mainly through the development of other characters, the quirkier the better.

This caper movie starts off as enjoyable guff before turning strictly formulaic and winding up as unenjoyable guff.

Far less insulting to Pakistanis or Mancunians than it is to its audience.

Stodgy storytelling and a hyperbolic score reduce their experiences to melodrama.

Pretty familiar stuff, but the performances--by Adrien Brody, Elise Neal, Simon Baker-Denny, and Lauryn Hill--are relatively fresh and sincere.

Poorly acted, over-the-top, and generally out-of-control bloodbath.

The ingenious if erratic slickness is disorienting and makes the movie more like drama than journalism.

The period ambience (call it funk) is irresistible, but the main points of interest here are sociological rather than musical.

A movie to savor.

Friedkin does a superb job of serving up the well-appointed script by James Webb and Stephen Gaghan.

There's little rapport between Duchovny and Driver after their initial meeting. More exciting and suspenseful is the relationship between Driver's confidant (Hunt) and her husband (James Belushi), who can't seem to get all their kids to go to sleep at the same time.

This gross-out action comedy gets good mileage from its high-energy music and World Championship Wrestling characters, and leads David Arquette and Scott Caan are expertly pathetic.

Easy to take but ultimately rather aimless.

An extravagant mess.

The labored storytelling in this movie about displaced ambition diminishes the impact of the powerful performances.

A pleasure.

Initially tolerable but increasingly stupid thriller.

Masterpiece.

The humor about male neurosis doesn't try to remind you of Woody Allen at every turn.

Neither the love nor the loss in this tear-jerking romance contains much drama.

Its virtues are still genuine and durable enough to resist the blandishments of hype.

Reputed to be sentimental crowd pleaser, for better and for worse.

It's scary and hilarious, with a magical, nonrealist tone, and it emphasizes physical comedy as much as disturbing, beautifully integrated metaphors.

It bored me clean out of my wits.