Discordance, meet The Iceman, a film so wrong-footed it should take Eugene Levy out for a coffee.

Ultimately seems at war with itself, torn between its duties as an entertaining, engaging movie and a somber, sincere memorial, and in splitting the difference, the film effectively assaults its audience almost as aggressively as its subjects.

Hateship, Loveship suffers due to its dedication to an oddly unsettling type of earnestness.

Expertly done, and a real joy to watch.

Once at sea, The Perfect Storm collapses in a heap of spectacle and a dubious piling-on of scary incidents.

Little of this is plausible, but it is beguiling.

The problem is that the motion picture around these individual stunts is patently a committee-made artifact.

Crudup tends to take average parts in standard genre films and turn them into something special.

Glover and Bassett ground the film, in the flashbacks and in the body of the film, and lessen the riskiness of maintaining the play's theatricality.

The Best Man Holiday goes whole hog on the holiday cheese, and there’s something admirable about an adult feature that doesn’t balk at real feelings, especially around the holidays (sex montages notwithstanding).

This relationship might be strong enough to carry an observational novel, but the movie feels like it's missing something.

The sequel quadruples the recipe, with gags on top of gags on top of gags in a way only animation could achieve. Like a foodie “Jurassic Park” conjured up by Tex Avery, “Cloudy 2″ is a sight to behold … as long as your brain hasn’t turned to mush by the halfway point.

Go For Sisters is something of a frustration. It’s the least interesting crime caper ever, and there are fascinating characters forced to go through the motions as if any of us could possibly care.

A modest picture with quiet ambitions that is likely to disappear into that lush tropical rainforest where so many films of this sort, some much worse and others much better, have all gone in time. Catch it while you can.

A sophomore writing-directing effort from former film critic Rod Lurie.

Suffers from a script that places dramatic emphasis in all the wrong places.

The kids’ performances are effective and strong, with little touches that bring them to life as recognizable types of smart young people.

Everyone will be indifferent, as indifferent and uncaring as the characters the film portrays.

I just really, really, really, don't like this movie, and I don't care who knows it.

Appalling because it never transcends its adolescent-boy glee at being allowed entry to the highly sexualized arena of prostitution.

The film is simplicity itself.

Has its own sense of logic and integrity that demand a kind of begrudged respect.

The F Word would be commendable on the strength of its unusual wit and warmth alone, but it becomes a far more satisfying (even somewhat illuminating) experience because it doesn’t shy away from the often ugly psychology engendered by cross-gendered friendships.

A deliciously romantic story, in all senses of the word.

Here is a pitch-black psycho-horror-comedy to restore one’s faith in the “What the eff did I just watch?” genre.

Murdoch’s film is fraught with ambition and aspiration, but a little thin on talent and technique.

To the Wonder is distinctly lacking in oomph and, without an emotional connection, without anything interesting happening on the screen, the beauty can only take you so far before the endeavor falls like a house of cards.

What’s truly unnerving about the whole thing is how good certain scenes are, and how great a few of the performances come off, especially Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep – they’re doing amazing work, only it’s the equivalent of building a lovely home on a foundation of quicksand.

A rich and challenging variation on the serial-killer genre.

The story moves beyond the limitations of its setting, transforming itself into an affecting parable about the lengths to which parents will go to protect their children from trauma, cruelty and knowledge of evil.

Park allows this macabre coming-of-age tale to be defined by mood and style above all else.

Particular credit must be given to Samuel L. Jackson’s voicing of Whiplash and Paul Giamatti’s work on the voice of Chet. The chemistry between the two is awesome, hilarious even.

There's nothing terribly wrong with the movie, but nothing terribly right about it either.

Boyd would be smart to add a little sound and fury next time around. War is hell, after all.

Regretfully, the beginning of this movie is as good as it ever gets.

Wrong is more absurd and more laugh-out-loud silly than “Rubber;” it’s also less focused and more pointless.

It’s just boring – and boring in a way that apparently has no endgame.

A magic-realistic fable whose lows soon prove as infuriating as its highs are intoxicating.

The fact that isolated bits are amusing shouldn't keep us from strongly noting that this movie really is pretty awful -- not at all worthy of guilty pleasure status.

Fading Gigolo wants to be some sort of sunny tapestry about New York’s social groups, but it’s impossible to see past its absurd premise.

The Walt Disney World-set Escape From Tomorrow is both a great gimmick-dependent story and a remarkable piece of filmmaking. It is a radical, transgressive departure that exploits new technology in heretofore unseen ways.

Don't be misled by claims that you've seen this one already. You haven't, and you should.

The film’s final shot ranks among its least graphic and yet most puzzling, a slap-in-the-face piece of punctuation that reminds the most accommodating viewers that, even on his good days, Mr. Zombie is really only making movies for an audience of one.

I'm not even sure the movie makes sense at times, yet Campion's offbeat rhythms and eye for startling images always made me happy to be looking at the screen.

Puts the Bond film series (this one makes number 19)-- back on track by stressing the fundamentals and applying a bit of authentic drama for a change.

An acerbically comic fable.

Despite the frivolous feel, it's clear the director intends for Bossa Nova to be a love letter to his two passions: Brazil and his leading lady (who's also his real-life wife). Neither lets him down.

For every poignant moment there’s a gaudy dream sequence, wretched internal monologue, ham-fisted zoom or an exchange of dialogue sorely lacking nuance.

While Bad Words is a little too dopey to take seriously, this is compensated for with a handful of truly amusing sequences.

Hopefully, the next time around, Chadha's imagination will be in the service of not just excellent casting and directing, but a script to match those other cinematic components.

The downright gnarliest mainstream horror release in recent memory, Evil Dead is certainly a considerable and occasionally commendable dose of the ol’ ultra-violence, but Fede Alvarez’ Raimi-sanctioned update of 1981’s cult favorite only really has that demented determination going for it.

Few movies this year have been quite so rewarding with their 11th hour epiphanies.

An often gorgeous, dizzying assault of ideas and visual flourishes...it's just not very good.

Unlike the original, Hannibal may make us hide our eyes, but it doesn't get inside our heads.

For a genre that so often sacrifices character development and smaller narrative developments, the majority of The Maze Runner feels quite refreshing and worth the navigation.

Derivative, cliché-ridden and old hat.

Two Buckleys for the price of one, but the real star here is Penn Badgley.

Frank’s film is much more of a noir outing than a straight action feature, and Neeson slips right into the tone and feel of the hard-boiled detective offering. Neeson may have been treated to a big career resurgence thanks to his knack for big action, but he’s great as Matt Scudder, and the darker charms of the film suit him wonderfully.

Somewhere around the beginning of Hour Two, the narrative loses momentum, and Pino Donaggio's molasses-thick score begins to drag everything down with it. The ending also lacks the surprise twist that seems to be promised .

Mama is one of those pictures that holds you aloft on its vaporous mood of dread – the occasional silliness of the plot mechanics don’t matter so much.

The Company You Keep at least manages to maintain an audience’s interest for a solid 80 percent of the film. The ending is a slight flop, which keeps the film from an overall recommendation, and in the stark light of day, it seems fairly evident not everything adds up.

I Origins is about on-par with “Another Earth,” but it’s still disappointing that a film so obsessed with the eye has such a fuzzy, blurred vision of what it wants to do.

Hamstrung by a script that is too often smug, obvious and self-important.

The accidental beating and killing of innocent people satirizes "Pulp Fiction," or is this Sabu's homage to Tarantino?

Simply can't sustain interest for much of its final hour.

This mild but amusing comedy wasn't written by Levinson, and the accents may be different, but the feel is similar.

A bold film anchored by Weigert's impressive lead performance.

What ensues is never exactly unpredictable, but always witty, fresh and fun.

This is a film about a journey, and while the destination – baseball’s major leagues – is continuously dangled in front of its protagonists, it’s getting there that counts. Oh, and also how fast you can throw a ball. That counts, too.

A mostly mundane single-father drama.

Breaks no new ground and is tedious in the extreme.

It's like one of the baker's cakes, handsomely rendered on the outside but lacking flavor.

Mr Kumble: Keep your hands off the classics! You don't deserve to read them, let alone paraphrase them.

A relatively high-flying adventure, injecting the always-entertaining airplane-set thriller with some fresh thrills and a cadre of characters worth getting invested in.

It is Foster who presents the biggest single problem, delivering a monochromatic performance that finds her character not much more than flinty and strained.

Afflicted is an exciting, adept and smartly skillful debut horror film.

Infuriating on almost every conceivable level.

Fancher seems uninterested in developing real suspense, or incapable of it, at least until the end, when there's plenty of it, but artificially imposed.

Feels more like a backyard relaxation than a movie.

A bad movie about a great man.

A cool movie and a must-see for anyone who wants to see the next stage in computer-generated animation. But it could have been so much more.

There are countless clever dialogue parries as well as some quite outstanding rants. It definitely takes the movie outside of the world of pure realism, but the theatricality is well worth it.

First and foremost I’m So Excited! is late night cabaret – funny, filthy and more than a little bit sloshed.

Smith puts the soul in the machine of Series 7, producing an emotional power too real for reality-TV to handle.

From the concept on down, Cronenberg’s film inevitably resembles the ‘80s body horror with which father David made his name, but Brandon brings his own antiseptic eye to this queasy noir mutation, like “D.O.A.” for a self-serving near-future.

If the word “epic” has lost its meaning in the throes of recent summers, Man of Steel forcefully redefines it.

A very competent film, but it barely pulls you in.

Leaves almost no impression at all.

In a season stuffed with empty eye candy, 2 Guns comes along as something of a welcome burrito — plenty satisfying and hardly nutritious.

Then Bill Nighy shows up and is awesome and punches you in the heart. It ultimately feels like a cheat, and while there won’t be a dry eye in the house, it won’t be earned.

An amiable cast and a satisfying enough story make The Hundred-Foot Journey stick to your ribs, even if it’s hard to swallow early on.

This Chris Sanders fellow knows how to craft a heart-warming animation, and if not for a few minor problems this would have had a legitimate shot at the best animated movie of 2013.

It is -- in mood, execution, and shameless sentimentality -- a Bette Midler movie with an Irish accent.

Tusk is revolting, but that’s entirely the point of Kevin Smith’s admirably imaginative and utterly disgusting latest feature, a twisted fairy tale that trades on gross-out gags and visual shockers instead of actual story.

All the Pretty Horses may end up being a good movie to watch on DVD, when all the footage is restored and we can see the subtle shadings Thornton jettisoned.

It's possible that Ritchie's most important asset is the comic constant within his characters' existential dilemmas. To a man (and, indeed, they're all men), Ritchie's anti-heroes are at odds, in either large or small ways, with their own natures.

A terrible, tired piece of filmmaking.

But as objectionable as its subject matter is, the most objectionable thing is that it's not funny.