It's only near the end, when Romanek sets out to release the tremendous tension he's built up, that One Hour Photo loses its bearings.

Don't forget the waves. They're the stars of this show, and Blue Crush smartly never lets you forget it.

It is entertaining enough to send intelligent viewers (but only the intelligent ones) in search of the book.

The film has a rather charming way of convincing you that there are times to shrug off the caviar and champagne and go for a fulfilling bowl of spaghetti.

A strange art-house film, a must-see for punks and nightclubbers, a puzzle for the merely curious.

XXX may be a celebration of jock culture stupidity, but it's also guaranteed not to produce any ZZZ's.

There's also something to be said for a movie that's content with telling a simple yarn, and telling it well.

Secret of this 'Ballot' lies in its humor, charm and universality.

Never crosses over into meanness, and even the most satirical character has a moment of empathy.

What's lacking is the simplicity that made the original.

It's the summer's most avant-garde experiment, and those who hate it (and there will be plenty) will complain the movie doesn't have a point. Then again, neither did Seinfeld, and look how that turned out.

If "The Sixth Sense" was Shyamalan's take on ghost stories and "Unbreakable" his ode to comic books, then Signs is the evil cousin to Steven Spielberg's "Close Encounters of the Third Kind."

For a movie that's all about camouflage, this sketch comedy epilogue turns out to be its most creative disguise: a thin coating of humor slapped on an otherwise ponderous film.

Occasionally feels a bit suffocating, like being trapped at a party by a drunkard who won't shut up until he tells you his entire life story.

A slightly dull film by photographer Sam Jones.

Harmless, mildly enjoyable.

If the other theme-park movies are as appealing, go ahead, bring 'em on.

The uneven Goldmember seems to take a big step toward the extremely juvenile, with more scatological and fewer sex jokes

May disappoint those who expect a more traditional Chinese setting. But, despite its modern look, this is far from being a Western film.

Neither man nor mouse nor any other critter has a prayer of holding his/her/its own once the real star of the sequel shows up: Snowbell, the worrywart feline voiced by Nathan Lane.

Despite its exciting moments, the film is too long.

Tadpole was shot on digital video, and the images often look smeary and blurry, to the point of distraction. Then again, in a better movie, you might not have noticed.

Limps along, spinning not a silken web but an extremely derivative, tattered one not likely to snare anybody's interest.

It's a lot more entertaining than box office success "Scooby-Doo" and more honest, too. When Irwin plays out a scene with a reptilian, you can be sure the croc is not computer-generated.

Medem may have disrobed most of the cast, leaving their bodies exposed, but the plot remains as guarded as a virgin with a chastity belt. That's why Sex and Lucía is so alluring.

Stops dead the second the monsters fall out of view. It doesn't help that the movie's post-apocalyptic future is of the unimaginative backlot variety, or that the movie takes itself so seriously.

Overflowing with melancholy and tragedy, Road to Perdition is one of the most somber gangster pictures ever made.

Watching a film about an opera can never be as moving as watching the real thing in a great opera house. Musical purists may object to certain details, and film buffs may find the concept unappealing. Yet, for this film and opera lover, Jacquot's Tosca is a treat.