One of the things that makes Traffic so very good is the wry humor that's laced throughout the film. It's a funny movie.

In the end, Malena is an unlikable and foul farce, unworthy of Tornatore's previously gentle touch.

This overdone project dissipates its energy in strange ways (sudden shifts to black-and-white, as though hailing the spirit of Oliver Stone and that other Costner JFK movie), and makes you wish its makers had shown the same restraint the government did during the crisis.

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.

Vatel is really about production design, so if you're not absolutely passionate about 18th century table-settings, wigs and bodices, you might as well just stay at home and watch the Food Channel.

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

With Before Night Falls, Schnabel has moved to an entirely new plane of cinematic achievement.

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.

Hanks gives possibly the most compelling performance of his career.

The risk pays off for Clooney and the Coens, as O Brother, Where Art Thou? is a nicely off-kilter exploration of American gumption.

One way or the other, there really is something to be said for a movie which seems to revel in its own inherent comic-book silliness.

What were they thinking?

It all coalesces in a TV-level pleasantness, which isn't quite enough to fill a big screen.

Writer/director David Mamet, who's built a career in both theater and film by being a hyper-manly sort of writer, has crafted a film that is laugh out loud funny and dinner-conversation smart.

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.

Blanchett projects a wounded dignity that anchors her character even when the film slips into silly hokum; she's never less than fantastic, and as such manages to keep the film on course.

This is not a great comedy, but it has some honest laughs, a few touching moments.

Irrespective of whether Pollock, as a movie, is any good -- and it is very, very good -- it's clear that Ed Harris was born to play the lead role.

Just another lame slacker comedy.

The design of the film is wonderful, the animation everything one comes to expect from a Disney picture, and the jokes fly by so fast.

Abittersweet fable about the raw joys of human revival.

A fascinating study. What might surprise audiences, though, is how droll the picture is, how much of the violence is just slapstick, and how much deadpan humor is running throughout the film.

Vertical Limit has its share of intrigue, but there ain't no mountain high enough to make O'Donnell look deep.

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.

Flat and thoroughly predictable piece of filmmaking.

Horribly slapdash affair.

This is a waking dream of truly operatic dimensions.

The latest installment in the "Boys Life" series has just as many hits as misses -- more misses, actually -- but the high points easily stand alongside past triumphs.