Egoyan and Hoskins fans will definitely want to see this film. Others will feel their fingernails grow as they watch it.

Tender souls who don't like a lot of noise and violence should probably stay away from this very in-your-face film.

The warm humanizing element in all the cool stuff is Crowe.

It's a great ride, gorgeous, silly and deeply intellectual by turns, but, for all its inventive fireworks, sad to say, it finally doesn't quite work.

The gravity-defying harness maneuvers popularized in the U.S. with "The Matrix" -- ... look really cool, but seem out of place in a realistic gang-style action movie.

Has a warm and intimate feel that helps push it a little deeper than its cable movie-of-the-week blueprint.

Questions loom heavily over this entertaining but not-too-deep film, making it more a commercial than real exploration.

One of those hybrid projects: a major studio film, big star, homely storyline, but tempered by an indie director working in his own idiosyncratic style.

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

Its own, tough-minded antidote to the grab-the-brass-ring whimsy of its premise.

Love it or hate it -- and I suspect, frankly, most people are going to hate it -- this is like no other film you've ever seen.

A fascinating portrayal.

The darkly comic tone is often just right, and the casting occasionally pays off.

While The Messenger feeds our appetite for visual panache, it starves the soul.

Funny, immediately and consistently engaging, and -- well done on almost every level.

Someone should confiscate Mann's synthesizer. Just when a scene starts rolling along, this synth beat fades in and destroys the mood.

More whimsical than gloomy, for all the horrors it alludes to or depicts.

There's something thin about the picture-both in its ideas and its visual texture.

An absurdist Eastern European version of "The Godfather," starring the Marx Brothers (and sisters and nephews and...).

Much more mythic and risk-taking than the usual Hollywood product.

Cronenberg’s map doesn’t lead to a satisfying destination in a typical story sense, but it is a remarkable quest. For a movie that has so many problems, it is one of the more watchable ones.

All these years later, the film is far more infuriating than it is exciting.

Quills -- like the Marquis himself--is a posey, pungent, ultra-theatrical yet weirdly seductive mess which wants to have its cake, eat it too and discuss the whole concept and context of its meal (constantly, contradictorily) while it does so.

For the most part, a delight.

Barrymore's sunny energy pushes the movie along, but halfway through you realize there just isn't that much to push.

Best of all is a Halloween party where the Falls are complimented on their "costume," then outed.

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 filmmaker has given us two films for the price of one. Unfortunately, the second film, a gripping thriller which occupies the last 45 minutes of Space Cowboys, is much better and more involving than the first film.