Funny even when it relies heavily on age-old, old-age gags.

Feels like a cobbled collection of ideas and conceits rather than a stand-alone story.

Hugh Grant and Sarah Jessica Parker are supposed to pass for a married couple, but they have all the chemistry of two actors who just met and shook hands moments before the cameras rolled. They don't even seem to like each other much.

Whatever faults Avatar may have -- and there are many -- the movie succeeds in immersing you in a photorealistic, painstakingly detailed world more fully than any science fiction movie before.

Nine isn't so much a movie as it is a collection of standalone musical numbers, strung together by the thinnest of plots.

A nice set of drapes and a striking ballgown or two are not enough to provide this interesting love story any serious heft or insight.

Bridges brings his 50 years of acting experience to this one captivating, surprisingly moving performance.

The result is almost suffocating: a movie that has been tinkered and fussed with until there is no spontaneity left -- no warmth or life or messiness.

The result is earnest, admirable and more than a little dull -- a pedestrian movie about a remarkable subject.

Despite its downbeat theme, A Single Man is ultimately optimistic about the human capability to gradually make peace with seemingly insurmountable pain and tragedy.

Brothers is a collection of strong moments that don't add up to anything. The movie is all build-up.

Up in the Air is also optimistic about the perpetual themes that preoccupy so many movies that endure the test of time: Life is better with company. And everybody needs a co-pilot.

Literature lasts, but sometimes, The Last Station suggests, the ties that bind last, too.

The filmmakers capture enough of the book's essence -- and the power of its knockout, transcendent ending -- to more than justify the movie's existence.

This is minor Disney at best, forgettable at worst.

You don't go into a movie called Ninja Assassin expecting a hell of a lot, but this shockingly disjointed and relentlessly dull picture can't even deliver the martial-arts kick its title so plainly promises.

Nostalgia is part of the modest charm of this disposable but inoffensive picture. Old Dogs makes old dogs out of all of us.

What's missing is originality and story and inventiveness.

In the sequel, Weitz lays on a pop song and slow-motion during a critical scene involving the sudden reappearance of a fearsome villain, giving everything an MTV-slick, teen-friendly gloss and reminding you this is just a movie -- a somewhat silly and hollow one.

With this gorgeously melodramatic ode to cinema, the filmmaker comes dangerously close to losing himself inside his celluloid dreams -- and leaving the audience behind.

The last 40 minutes test your patience -- and intelligence -- in a way the rest of this big, dumb, crazy movie never does:

Mr. Fox's old-fashioned, hand-crafted animation is one of its main attractions. Another is Anderson's whimsical, dry humor, a natural for this tale of a crafty, dapper fox.

With the insight and sensitivity of an insider, The Messenger illuminates the sometimes invisible victims of war -- the survivors -- and a pain that is tolerated but never quite healed.

Pirate Radio does what it sets out to do. It rocks.

The Box is a mess, but it's a curiously haunting, intriguing, brain-tickling mess, and it delivers that "Donnie Darko" feeling in truckloads. Or should that be rocketloads?

This bruising, harrowing movie would be impossible to sit through without at least a hint of light at the end of its astonishingly dark tunnel.

While there are some genuinely creepy moments, it never truly ends up as more than an average "X-Files" episode.

Could there possibly be anything left to gain from yet another adaptation of Charles Dickens' tale about crabby old Ebenezer Scrooge and his life-changing encounter with three ghosts on Christmas Eve? In the case of Disney's A Christmas Carol, the answer is a surprising, resounding yes -- at least so far as the IMAX 3D version goes.

Much of The Men Who Stare at Goats is indeed amusing, although mostly in a mild, setting-the-stage kind of way, and your smiles eventually turn to yawns.

Reveals little about the personal aspects of the deeply troubled man behind the sunglasses -- it naturally deals with none of the darker aspects of Jackson's life -- but it deftly underlines his commitment to showmanship.

In an ironic twist, Mira Nair's big-hearted yet by-the-numbers biopic of Amelia Earhart never -- unlike the famous aviatrix -- takes chances.

The finished film has been tinkered with and tweaked so thoroughly that it borders on the incomprehensible.

Although (Untitled) makes a spirited effort to mine comedy from its outre characters and the orbits they inhabit, the picture feels thin and wan, like a joke you've heard 100 times too many.

The film lacks the menace and danger of Sendak's book, along with the beautiful simplicity and delicated, understated portrait of a lonely, misunderstood boy.

The payback in Law Abiding Citizen doesn't have a cathartic kick, because the revenge is so extreme it's horrifying.

The result, as is always the case with short story collections, is a mixed bag, although unlike "Paris Je T'Aime," the duds outnumber the winners this time.

It is absolutely, inexcusably terrible.

The film wouldn't work at all, though, if Sarsgaard didn't strike the perfect balance between snaky predator and love-struck fool.

"Our self-esteem is wrapped up in it,'' admits actress Tracie Thoms (who sticks with a natural curly look). "A woman's hair is her glory,'' Angelou says.

Written and directed by James Mottern with more attention to character than to plot, Trucker is a simple, unadorned study of a loner forced by circumstance to embrace the world again -- but only on her terms.

Scary? Yes, in spots. Gratuitously gory? You bet. But, first and foremost, Zombieland is a comedy.

Gervais' wickedly sly concept lingers quite awhile after the final chuckle. And that's the truth.

Whip It is completely predictable from the first frame. It also is ridiculously, utterly entertaining.

That song (Jefferson Airplane's Somebody to Love), which becomes a sort of mantra to the movie, is the key to understanding what the Coens are after: When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, you better find somebody to love.

Campos, a cinematic disciple of Stanley Kubrick and latter-period Gus Van Sant, opts to let the movie do the talking for him. The fact that this is a film of few words only adds to its hypnotic, relentless pull.

The new Fame is practically identical to Alan Parker's 1980 original -- I mean, it's the same damn movie -- except for all the parts with heart and humor and poignancy and soul and fun.

Through Tautou's performance, Coco Before Chanel reveals the formation of an artist.

It aims -- successfully -- to make you think and feel.

The movie's faults aside, this is the kind of show where half the fun is watching it in the company of a large group of people.

This lively, infuriating and occasionally moving film certainly leaves you thinking, and there isn't a dead spot in it. That's the mark of a real filmmaker, not just a muckraker.

A joyful romp, devoid of the tiresome pop-culture references.

A whimsical and light-hearted spin on a serious story of corporate whistleblowing.

An incredibly lazy movie -- but not an unbearable one, thanks to Aaron Eckhart's charm.

Not since Brian De Palma's "Carrie" has a horror movie so effectively exploited the genre as a metaphor for adolescent angst, female sexuality and the strange, sometimes corrosive bonds between girls who claim to be best friends.

A well-acted, well-crafted but excruciatingly tepid romantic film about a subject that will attract poetry lovers and yet test even their considerable patience.

The film isn't particularly original, but its dark mood, end-of-times landscape and unique characters will seem fresher to the young audience for which it's aiming than to jaded sci-fi veterans.

Although never boring and almost continually amusing, Extract doesn't work as a movie because you don't buy a minute of it, even as silly satire.

Insulting, witless comedy.

As for getting close to Wintour -- or even explaining the unfathomable mystery that can be haute couture -- the film comes up empty.

Awfully amiable and dull. Instead of honoring musical gods, the film seems to think Pat Boone was headlining.

Fast and funny, and grown-ups will not suffer sitting through it.

An annoying, tedious little film.

Basterds isn't so revolutionary or so finely crafted as "Pulp Fiction" was, but it crackles with the same energy and imagination and chutzpah.

This is a slight and unessential picture, but its quirky, compassionate tone seems destined to attract a cult following, and members of high-school drama clubs everywhere will be riveted.

My One and Only isn't exactly memorable, but this little, personable movie is a fine showcase for Zellweger's talents and a paean to the sort of mid-1950s America best remembered in Norman Rockwell paintings.

A shrill and gaudy comedy about the quest for celebrity.

Attention all geeks (and geeks at heart): Get ready for two hours of serious awesome.

Even by Miyazaki standards, Ponyo makes less narrative sense than it should, and the pat ending is a bit of a letdown.

The movie is slightly more sappy, and the characters are necessarily less fleshed out than they are in Audrey Niffenegger's dazzling novel, but neither shortcoming detracts from the film's appeal.

How can a movie as overstuffed with funny people as The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard be so listless and leaden?

The best parts of It Might Get Loud, though, occur when Guggenheim visits with the musicians one on one.

The performances in Bandslam are uniformly strong -- good enough to make you wish this bunch of charismatic, talented kids had been given better material.

More toy commercial than movie.

The movie could have used a few more scenes focusing on Child at work in the kitchen -- a few more scenes with Child doing anything, really.

For a low-brow, psycho-on-the-loose-in-paradise thriller, A Perfect Getaway is surprisingly entertaining.

The movie's power sneaks up on you, reminiscent of something screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond once famously described as "the Billy Wilder touch": A combination of the sweet and the sour, because even funny people, like you and I, aren't always being funny.

The most horrific -- and heartbreaking -- scene of any movie thus far this year comes at the climax of The Cove.

Lorna's Silence doesn't work, but it's a beautiful misfire.

The most daring thing about Adam, the story of a young man with Asperger's syndrome, is that there isn't a scene in which someone stops to explain exactly what Asperger's IS.

The Ugly Truth is insulting to women, men and even goldfish.

The movie is absolutely hilarious, a satire as brisk and fleet as a farce and as profane as a convention of Tony Montana impersonators.

The more Shrink tries to get you invested in the emotional turmoil of its characters, the more you want to reach into the screen and shake them and tell them to get over themselves.

This is a romantic comedy that makes the concept of romantic comedies appealing again -- that reminds you how resonant and transporting they can be when they're done right.

Half-Blood Prince is the franchise's “Empire Strikes Back” -- the episode in which the pace slows down a bit, the characters deepen and mature, the good guys take a big hit, and all hell is gearing up to break loose.

The problem with I Love You, Beth Cooper is that aside from Denis' speech at the start, everything else seems familiar.

The real genius, if that is what it is, behind Sacha Baron Cohen's crude, shocking and explosively funny Brüno is the fact that the filmmakers actually found enough gullible human targets.

Humpday sells its admittedly far-fetched premise by illustrating how men often can't help but behave like stubborn children in the company of their friends -- even when the stakes are raised to ridiculous levels.

There is no faulting the big set pieces, which are shot and edited skillfully. But without involving characters to go along with them, those sequences make for awfully empty movie calories.

Michael Mann's extraordinary Public Enemies is an unusual sort of gangster picture, a near-impressionistic recreation of the last year in the life of one of American history's most notorious bank robbers.

A treat to anyone who already cherishes Varda's films and a perfect primer for those who haven't yet discovered her work.

You might call My Sister's Keeper manipulative, and you would not be inaccurate.

Like every war before it, the U.S. invasion of Iraq has generated its share of movies. But The Hurt Locker is the first of them that can properly be called a masterpiece.

Focusing on the contestants who make the initial cut -- two men and two women -- the film can't resist wringing some American Idol-style suspense from speculation about who the eventual victor will be. But the movie also leaves no doubt as to who the real winners are.

Chéri never fulfills its emotional promise.

A slow, inexorable slog to the titular event -- a public execution so inconceivably violent and brutal the movie practically dares you not to look away.

At least the special effects in Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen are remarkable: You never tire of the endless variations of robots Bay and his computer-generated effects crew come up with.

Year One is not really THAT bad and not ENTIRELY without laughs.

What makes Whatever Works so enjoyable, aside from the unusually high number of effective one-liners the script contains (this is Allen's funniest movie since Mighty Aphrodite), are its supporting characters.