Topsy-Turvy is flawless, borne along by a savagely witty screenplay that Leigh directs like the gears of a clock.

Despite good performances and moments of spectacle, it seems to go on longer than the Cultural Revolution.

A riveting, unsentimental tragedy of unrequited love.

A bright, lively picture.

This saga of one robot's determined quest to become human is so coldly calculated it could give you frostbite.

Strains our patience with overacting and photography so sumptuous you can't help but ponder why so much bloodshed and mayhem is being so expertly prettified.

An exhilarating and at times operatic film.

Hallström, a past master at cockeyed coming-of-age chronicles ("My Life as a Dog," "What's Eating Gilbert Grape"), has a near-genius for unpatronizing tolerance, and for seeing beauty in the world and nature and seasons without turning them into postcards.

Though modest in scale, this romantic gem constitutes yet another superb leap in the evolution of Figgis' career.

A brooding, stunningly realistic portrait of familial self-destruction that raises far more questions than it can possibly answer.

Even if the great debate that pits artistic integrity against corporate compromise doesn't thrill you, see Cradle Will Rock anyway. It's marvelous, provocative entertainment; art for art's sake.

A treacly, ham-fisted, German-American co-production about family ties that should only have been released in the circle of Hell reserved for movie critics.

This jailhouse jam is quite a haul.

To paraphrase the movie's too-knowing tag line: It's not very funny. But when the lights go out -- it's still not very funny.

Elevates the horror genre with a refreshing intelligence and humor -- too bad it's not half as good at generating scares.

Rereading Greene's book, one is struck anew by the absolute perfection of the film's casting.

Agnes Browne hums along as a series of pleasant vignettes, only frantically shifting to a single narrative track in its third act for the sake of an unbelievably upbeat ending.

Worth navigating for its refusal to play to the crowd. There's certainly nothing safe or sweet about Weaver's performance.

It's not a movie you could call dispassionate, however aimless and unfocused. It's a Molotov cocktail tossed in several directions at once.

A vapor trail of a comedy, comfortable as an old chair (and deliciously photographed in shades of melon and banana by Chinese vet Zhao Fei), but ultimately quaint and unchallenging.

Though similar thematically to "Anywhere But Here," Tumbleweeds is a breath of fresh air that busts the cliches of dysfunctional mother-daughter sagas.

Though Lee's movie is dripping with action and beautiful details, it's aimless and, eventually, tedious.

Such a witless, bombastic, by-the-numbers hunk of millennial hooey it made me nostalgic for Commando. This one throws in every hoary hellfire cliché.

A technologically marvelous animated movie that's just as funny and inventive as the first, but also more emotionally engaging than most live-action films. This is clearly a sequel in name only.

Perhaps most depressingly, in pulling out all the stops for an ugly, violent climax, he (Schumacher) cheapens this vividly drawn slice of life, turning it into a tiresomely flawed, garden-variety vigilante thriller.

If you're desperate for a James Bond fix, skip the movie and blow your 007 bucks on a copy of the soundtrack.

Burton's films are endearing and impassioned despite the fact that they generally fail to tell a whole story, create a single rounded character, or inspire even mild laughs or chills.

The most heartfelt tribute to women -- specifically, actresses -- he's (Almodovar) ever made.