At the very least, it's more honest and involved in its portraiture of American soldiers in Iraq than anything TV news of any political persuasion has given us.

Fox keeps the suspense story at a low boil throughout, allowing the politics to emerge as the characters deepen.

The witty title aside, this is a miserably dull exercise in stingy-Jew humor and post-Jarmusch nonreaction.

The story unfolds at such length and over so many years that politics tend to fade into the wallpaper, leaving an exceptionally rich family story.

The stylistic discontinuities and pile-driver excesses can be off-putting for an outsider like me, but for fans this may well be part of the appeal.

Kiarostami tries to explain himself and reveals contradictions and a penchant for hyperbole--along with surprising insights.

Writer-director Marcos Bernstein is more interested in how a melodramatic imagination can distort reality, a concept he explores with charm and tact.

Provocative and entertaining.

Few movies on the subject of peer pressure offer so wide a cultural critique, even pointing a finger at underwear billboards, and Bellott's roving eye makes him a filmmaker to watch.

Limiting the potential overripeness of the material with tact and sincerity, he (Wang) generally makes the most of his resourceful cast; only the dog overacts.

Philippe Rousselot's elegant cinematography lends some gravitas to music-video veteran Francis Lawrence's directorial debut.

Too low-key and amiable to match the lubriciousness Jim Carrey brought to the original.

The audience is subjected to a series of emotional contortions, encouraged to experience them voyeuristically, and then scolded for doing so. The bathetic music Kim favors is profoundly at odds with his chilly attitude toward the characters.

Under the harsh lights of the meticulously re-created, claustrophobic bunker, that scrutiny is relentless.

Scenes in which Ford meets with record-industry honchos and a manipulative producer suggest that the music business is almost as exploitative as the porn business.

Krause is completely believeable as the solid old man, and though the story moves slower than molasses, it leaves the same dark aftertaste.

There's no denying his (Ghobadi's) talent for suspense or his ability to get riveting performances from nonprofessionals.

Over too soon.

Overstays its welcome, but for mindless thrills you could do worse.

The characters quickly succumb to stereotype.

But with all due respect to Smith, the movie--a performance piece with an unbelievable bare-bones plot--belongs to Kevin James.

As the smirking title might suggest, the movie is least prepared to process the feminist backlash against porn movies that followed their early-70s crossover -- in a way the most interesting part of the story.

In his best film in years, Marco Bellocchio crafts a stringently moral tale that carries a hint of horror.

Writer-director Robert Shallcross believes in it so passionately that he came close to convincing me too.

The film is both wise and tender in its treatment of relationships -- between birds, between people, and between birds and people.

Director Frank Nissen strikes a nice balance between slapstick and sentiment, and I'll admit to getting a bit choked up at the appropriate moments.

The most telling moments in this 2003 video documentary aren't the statements of the neo-Nazis, a tiny minority who get way too much screen time, but the lies and bigotries of the ordinary citizens.

Nicely paced but so fluffy it threatens to waft away.