The soul of Gladiator is made sluggish by a maddening lack of suspense.

It doesn't have enough power in the first place to make a strong claim on our attentions.

Braugher does much to hold this show together, because without him, the reality gets muddled. He's a terrific balancing agent for both Caviezel and Quaid; kudos to casting.

Sits before us like an exquisite platter of wax fruit, colorful, flavorless, and, if you eat it, very likely to come back up.

We become so absorbed in the ramifications of the techniques involved that a more challenging plot might have resulted in sensory overload.

A top-notch cast compensates for dubious credibility.

Takes roughly a third of its length to really get going, but, once it does, it's a devilishly clever, engaging piece of work that milks every cent of value from its tiny budget.

Impeccably acted by a fine ensemble cast, it's a sheer pleasure to behold.

Not bad at all.

[Coppola] understands the crisp, oblique horror and wistfulness of Eugenides' narrative, plunking down five enchanting princesses into an environment that is anything but magical.

A film built upon transitions so weak and obvious it's astonishing the entire thing doesn't collapse on itself.

Banal sit-comedy masquerading as religious deepthink dolled up as boy-meets-goy love story.

An ethereal, creepy, almost breathtaking meditation on the life of a mind snapped in two.

As ridiculous as it all is...it's somehow eminently watchable.

Slips by quickly enough, but it never engages our interest more than passingly.

There is some meandering, episodic raggedness to the plotting, but Khan-Din's dialogue has a fine, naturalistic flow, and the young, debuting director O'Donnell, who's neither English nor Pakistani but Irish, skillfully keeps the material from showing too clearly its theatrical origins.

The film looks great, but Wargnier is so heavy-handed in his portrayal of postwar Russia that it casts suspicions on the film's reliability as history.

Be forewarned: The rural Irish accents may be incomprehensible to viewers who aren't accustomed to them.

A big gob of fun.

A vivid double portrait of the artistic sensibility in its many weathers -- expressed by two fine actors clearly engaged in a labor of love.

Trite and silly, but, blast it, the movie has a good heart.

Ambitious in scope and humble in execution.

Immediately disarming for its candor, verve, and sheer nerve.

Predictable and conventional and unadventurous. It can't really be defended, except that it's comfortably enjoyable.

Obnoxiously dull.

Full of conspiracies, all The Skulls lacks is a brain.

The film is so much like the book, it might as well come with a bookmark to hold your place when you step outside to use the restroom.

It would be heartening if the adolescent girls of America turned their backs on this pandering piece of kitsch, but that would be hoping too much.