Hal Hartley's innovative comedy-drama is more ambitious than successful, but it deserves credit for trying something genuinely unusual.

Suffers from a lack of chemistry.

Shots of blood and naked bodies clash bizarrely with Coppola's more quaint and engaging notions; the result may be intended as a dialectical encounter, but seems more like a head-on collision.

Great premise, but the ensuing trials and tribulations - not to mention hapless attempts at comedy - are as off-key as a karaoke scene in which Hudson sounds worse than any audition Simon Cowell has ever had to sit through.

The blend of live action and animation is competently done, but the subtly mean-spirited screenplay has more sour meows than hearty laughs.

The film has enough wild driving to satisfy any "French Connection" fan or "Bullitt" buff, but there's precious little for anyone else to enjoy. 2 foolish + 2 flashy = 4 get it!

Almost entirely devoted to combat violence and sentimental interludes.

In short, this movie is exactly the kind of starry-eyed escapist fantasy that Dr. Powell suspects Prot of having. It's harmless enough, since we can be cured just by leaving the theater.

I doubt if the results would have satisfied Kahlo, whose originality in matters of life, art, and ideas was vastly more far-reaching.

Rarely has a film poured so much energy into generating fiery emotions, yet remained so icy cold in its effect...Revolution has been dazzlingly shot by cinematographer Bernard Lutic in a process called System 35, but so much visual grandeur seems more embarrassing than engaging when the dramatic element is such a mess.

Nicolas Cage, Ving Rhames, and Steve Buscemi are among the few performers who emerge with a shred of dignity at the end.

Whatever novelty this series ever possessed has gone down the proverbial tube. The actors are on autopilot, and Adam Herz's screenplay panders to its immature target audience so cravenly and relentlessly that it verges on incompetence.

This low-budget drama tries very hard to convey messages of tolerance and compassion, but it's too weakly acted and directed to have much impact.

The problem with Possession isn't that it's filmed in a lackluster way, but that it shouldn't have been filmed at all. Byatt's novel is an adventure in language, telling its story through a kaleidoscopic array of Victorian-style poetry and prose, alongside gripping accounts of the characters' activities and escapades.

Serial killing and other insanity in the French countryside, with ineptly dubbed English dialogue.

The kind of comedy that aims at "edginess" and "sassiness" without managing to be edgy or sassy for a second.

Some scenes paint a convincing portrait of Stern as a witty opponent of stuffiness, prudery, and hypocrisy. Others mix gross-out humor with nasty doses of racism, sexism, and homophobia that reveal a dark side to Stern's professional personality.

A few mildly amusing gags don't outweigh the trite situations and mean-spirited attitude of this comedy.

This belated "reimagining" is as beguiling as a dried-out palm tree.

It has a degree of sociological interest, but it would be more effective if the material were shaped into a more coherent form.

A director of Frankenheimer's stature deserves less sensationalistic material, and so does his audience.

Even MacLachlan's surprisingly witty performance can't compensate for the trite screenplay and Mistry's lack of charisma.

A romantic comedy-drama has to make sense, though, and Love Actually doesn't, actually.

Repetitious teen-targeted fluff.

Action freaks may enjoy the chasing and chomping, but there's no hint of human interest or moviemaking imagination.

Poor writing and directing are the culprits - and whatever possessed the gifted Moore to make her role a nonstop Diane Keaton imitation? There oughta be a law!

Goldmember comes after years of escalating vulgarity have thrown the need for caution -- and cleverness -- out of fashion.

There's nothing special about this movie -- it's just business as usual for today's debased action-movie genre.