Despite being full of Oscar-winning talent, this is still just a better-dressed, drawn-out episode of "Touched by an Angel."

A jauntily entertaining ride.

80 minutes of comic mistiming and missed opportunities.

A genre-busting film that deserves to be seen.

This is such seductive entertainment that you might as well stop grousing and give in.

An earnest but fatally amateurish and stereotypical melodrama about fraternity hazing.

At best a vaguely Semitic episode of "The Wonder Years."

The only thing about this movie that will haunt you is its boggling ineptitude.

Easily the best directorial debut of the year, and possibly the most mature and haunting film to ever come out of Scotland, Lynne Ramsay's Ratcatcher is a throat-catching masterpiece of lyricism, observation, and stone-cold realism.

Too much of a study in formalism to register deeply on an emotional level.

It's a polished, beautifully made movie with a rotten heart.

McKenna's script is a frayed string and a contextual nightmare, peppered with puzzling references to the first film in a lame attempt at homage.

A sentimental slice of 1950s Italian-American life that doesn't soft-pedal its characters' simmering prejudices within their insulated community, or pander to their dreams of getting out.

The one movie so far this year that every filmgoer should see, if only to get a big dose of what we've been missing from Hollywood.

Emblematic of the man's (Oshima) career: ironic, ambiguous, sublime.

None of the movie's abundant humor is better than faintly amusing.

If Lee's intention was to cement our loathing of blackface comedy, he's succeeded all too well.

It's funny. Really funny.

Never the heart-wrenching emotional experience it seems intended to be.

"Footloose" meets "The Full Monty" in Bootmen, a cliché-ridden tap dance drama.

A modest project with an agreeably modest point of view, but it cries out for a sharp, believable naturalism Kusama simply doesn't supply.

Pushes the standard tropes of gay romance movies a few more steps toward full-blown cliché-dom.

At their trenchant, tuneful best, the Barenaked Ladies take flip comic spins on serious subjects (alcoholism, heartbreak). But offstage, they have nothing of substance to reveal.

Ultimately nothing more than a live-action cartoon. A high-minded, inspiring cartoon, but a cartoon nonetheless.

Beautiful it ain't, but it is kind of cute.

It's got enough hilarious moments that, all in all, the film's bite is as toothsome as its bark.

The narrative disjointedness is not at all relieved by confusing editing, an uncertain tone, and a dragging pace that makes the film a progressively dreary experience.

Fans starving for some song and dance celluloid may be satiated, but this movie version really shows the material's age.

As for genuine willies, well, chances are you've had more disturbing encounters with, say, a belligerent Shih Tzu.

Predictable, tame dreariness.

Has an unforgettable artery of hot-blooded talent coursing straight through it.

Easily the year's most trying, tormented, and thrilling movie ordeal.

Has only its actors to keep it afloat.

For many, the enticement of seeing two old pros smartly step through their pressurized pas de deux might be reason enough to buy a ticket.

The entire ensemble is first-rate.

An adroitly made, perfectly acted little nightmare.

Most tenderly, the film deciphers the true meaning of its corporate-speak title in Franck and his father's impassioned struggle to ensure each other's welfare.

Covers some bases, but it feels like the Cliffs Notes version of a grander epic.

A fitting tribute to these displaced children because it so simply and elegantly personalizes their place in the most horrific chapter of 20th-century history.

Somehow manages to stay afloat on a sea of pretension, thanks largely to some splashy visuals.

Even Foxx's lively comedy is lost in the noise.

An ambitious film, nearly an exploitative one, but its lingering effects are positive.

An intermittently irresistible entertainment.

Crowe's script is a thing of wonder, and he again proves himself to be an outstanding director of actors.

An empty, affected exercise, executed with just enough style to make you wish McQuarrie had a motive beyond his own career.

A film that's bound to be loathed for its irrationalities and narrative drunkenness, just as it will be beloved for its original risks and manic visual energy.

An intensely involving, Ibsen-esque human drama populated by complex, sympathetic heroes.

On the whole, this documentary is best-suited to hardcore fans.

Badly photographed, clumsily edited, and lacking any discernable cinematic style.

The satisfaction of watching it essentially boils down to seeing whether or not Reeves can pull it off.

A vanity vehicle for the dubious acting talents of Pras.

Whipped is cinematic suicide, if not for actor, then certainly for audience.

Director Roger Michell ("Persuasion," "Notting Hill") has made his finest film to date.

It's a satisfying swan song.

Thinking (logically or otherwise) about this movie is a waste of your brain cells.

Arresting, visually accomplished documentary.

Two hours' worth of painful stupidity, overt racism, and mind-battering noise and movement.

Reed's manic direction rarely lets up between show-stopping cheer numbers.

Feels repetitive and impacted.

Strives for folksy charm but ends up just lying there like a plate of kippers.

For audiences new to this type of moon-mad magical realism and unembarrassed romanticism, Orfeu can spellbind.

Love & Sex is nothing but pain and suffering.

Fuhgeddaboutit.

Gets to the funny bone, but it could've cut deeper.

Never better than middling, despite its best intentions.

Repetitive, aimless, and as frustrating as you'd imagine any two-hour music video to be.

Brand-new and uproariously unimproved.

Dreadful demonic disaster.

Appears to have been written and directed by a grade-school dropout snorting airplane glue.

An agreeably and unapologetically lightweight late-summer blockbuster.

It's amiable enough, but the only real opportunity here is to see Walken step out of the shadows.

Ultimately too slight and opaque to inspire much ardor.

Has its funky charms.

To say that it's dull barely scratches the surface.

One of the year's best imports and one of the very few queer movies that transcends its sexual orientation.

A charming movie.

After an uproarious first half, Saving Grace arrives at its conclusion somewhat hastily and conveniently.

Better, as they say, than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick -- but only just.

Struggles like a fat kid on the gym rope to conjure up even a single decent laugh.

He's (Eastwood) made a mature film that bests nearly all of the summer's highly touted blockbusters for pure escapism.

Plays out like a raunchy episode of "Felicity."

Filthy fun, if not much more.

Mad About Mambo's steps may be as familiar as the hokeypokey, but there's just enough gusto in the execution to make it a guilty pleasure.

Too often, the movie is more forced and frantic than actually funny.

(Paradis) delivers what might be the most affecting film performance ever given by a supermodel.

It's another subtle, fantastic performance from McKee ("Notting Hill," "Croupier").

The best film we'll see this year.

Disheveled tripe pieced together with the good intentions.

Along the way, we end up losing patience with our couple-to-be because they seem too smart to endure the indignities ceaselessly heaped on them.

All in all, she comes off as quite a complex creature.

Has storytelling rambles and lapses that no amount of electrifying jump-cuts and original image-making can compensate for.

Startlingly shallow even for a summer movie.

At once arch, derivative, and, in the end, bizarrely lyrical.

Kids deserve better than this. They deserve more respect than P2K is willing to give for the price of a Saturday matinee.

As a portrait of a man barely qualifying for a cinematic portrait, Benjamin Smoke is a trifle, but when Sillen and Cohen turn their cameras on the weedy, workaday, hellhole America that Benjamin calls home, the movie comes alive.

This is sub-par Aaron Spelling sludge all the way.

Beautifully performed and filmed, but tiresomely schematic episodes like this one cause us to experience major sensory deprivation.

An orgy of bad decisions and cheap ideas.