Surprisingly charming romantic comedy.

Cho is raw, uncensored, and side-splittingly hilarious.

It's an exhilarating display of filmic artistry.

Director Charles Crichton's hilarious romp.

It is one of the most beautifully staged American movies in a very long time.

Unapologetically sentimental, this movie is certain to melt all but the hardest of hearts.

It might be the scariest movie ever made.

Blessedly free of candy-box prettiness, cloying gentility, and anything else that might dishonor its deeply felt, sensitively observed memoir.

This isn't a crowd-pleaser in terms of subject matter -- you've got a convict and a nun, with no love scenes -- but Robbins keeps it interesting.

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.

Maddin's movie is, frame for frame, the densest and most spectacular (albeit cardboard-cheap) film playing anywhere.

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.

It's a pleasure to watch these unhurried, character-driven vignettes when such great actors are anchoring them.

A funny, frenetic, and often quite touching microcosm of the Big Apple life itself, essayed by a pitch-perfect cast and boasting authentic urban flavors.

One of the year's best films, and certainly its most challenging so far: At more than three hours, watching it is less like consuming entertainment and more like living.

Proudly wears its heart on its sleeve, but it never becomes so swoony that you'll reach for your hanky.

Even if it sometimes skips, it's consistently wittier and more idiosyncratic that most studio movies.

Though frequently brutal and off-putting, Beautiful People is a must-see.

It's a satisfying swan song.

Confident, mature, deeply conceived, and convincingly inhabited, it's a surprisingly humane film -- despite the close-range shotgun spray.

High drama this ain't. And yet, anyone looking for a hearty banquet of gymnastic, kung-fu tomfoolery won't walk away hungry.

One of Australian director Peter Weir's most sensitive films.

Faithless, filmed mostly during Sweden's endless winter, will chill you to the bone.

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.

Praise will get under your skin.

The wrap-up's pretty charming, as are the performances, but the film's too heavy for its soufflé-ready ingredients.

How well you respond to this handsomely mounted, cold-blooded tragedy will depend on your feelings toward Gillian Anderson's highly theatrical lead performance.

Wacky, vividly conceived but mundanely executed cartoon fantasy.