With Muppets Most Wanted, the vaudevillian pandaemonium is alive and well.

It is one of the better dumbass sci-fi action movies to come down the pike in quite some time.

Held together by strong writing, insightful direction, and a stunning turn by newcomer Rodriguez, who is not only a gorgeous young woman but a fiercely charismatic screen presence.

Strangely enough, this movie provides a lot of the James Bond veneer that has been missing from recent James Bond movies.

The insider's view of celebrity in The Insider grabs the spotlight from the real story of Wigand's courage.

Stays with you, though, not because of its political content, but because of the unexpected emotional punch that's thrown near the end.

This is independent acting (and movie-making) at its best -- true, tight, anything but trite.

It's got both the sweeping spectacle and the keen, tactile sense of human intimacy.

This is a story told in shards; Wong is so obsessed with visual details – faces refracted as if in a broken mirror, or fragile arcs of blood being traced out on the pavement by the feet of two feuding kung fu masters – that the story he’s trying to tell is partly obscured by them.

An exceptionally intense movie whose sheer filmmaking power ultimately transcends all its (many) limitations.

Highly enjoyable.

A smart, engaging movie.

As a writer, LaBute is capable of creating long dialogue scenes that never seem stagey or artificial. As a director, he has the confidence to stay with those words.

Wan has marshaled his crack sense of supernatural menace into making his most satisfying scare story yet.

A very moving and surprisingly funny experience.

I was so taken by the film's sublime visual poetry, its telling silences, its finely orchestrated editing rhythms.

Grass is often closer to the sobering tone of the PBS show than it is to the silly "Weed," with its stoned, barely literate potheads discussing the quality of their dope.

The kind of college movie people will be quoting for years.

Most important, the film is suffused with a light touch and a kind of begrudged humor that feels perfectly natural and unforced and that keeps you involved in the characters' plight.

Stick with the film, accept the rules of the time and the meditative rhythm of the language that Davies has woven into his story, and you won't be disappointed. Then read the novel. It's even better.

Has the edge of black comedy that defines Maclean's sensibility, but it also has a mature new sweetness. And it's certainly one of the best films about the life of an addict since "Drugstore Cowboy."

Its series of quiet but moving realizations of the utter ubiquity of the Nazi horror in every single aspect of life, even something as hidden as a sexual sub-culture, is powerful indeed.

The picture has an appropriately grungy sense of place.

It's a testimony to Tammy Faye's own integrity and enormous charisma that the film holds our attention as tightly as it does, and doesn't become an insufferable exercise in weak filmmaking.

Lots of laughs, lots of fisticuffs, lots of cool toys, lots of stuff getting blown up: Who could ask for anything more from a summer movie?

Darabont follows King's book fairly closely, allowing the audience to steep itself in the setting and characters slowly, like reading a good novel.

This is a film like no other this year, and on that grounds alone you should see it.

A fitting tribute to an era, a writer, and an unapologetic eccentric.