With a scattered, meandering script, a stable of throwaway characters and an almost laughably drawn-out ending, it's all amounts to standard movie-of-the-week fare dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes.

Katniss is gritty, she's flinty, she's intimidating -- and she doesn't have to compromise one iota of her femininity for it. And Ross' movie tells her story wonderfully.

Oddly, though, Everyday Sunshine ends up being a mostly optimistic tale. That's because, despite it all, Fishbone is still gigging.

Unlike most enforcers in the movies, Jacky isn't just a brainless slab of meat.

It is small, it is smart, it is quirky.

Without a doubt, stupid, but it's willfully stupid, built in the comic style of "The Hangover" and "Due Date." Better yet, it also is genuinely funny, which is the point.

Writer-director Markus Schleinzer's exceedingly dark drama -- guaranteed to make audiences squirm in their seats -- is emotionally unsettling.

While Pariah starts out as a film with moments of predictability, it evolves into a smart, compelling -- and optimistic -- portrait of heartbreak and hope.

There are plenty of entertaining moments to latch onto beneath the sci-fi tropes -- and maybe even a few that will inspire a new generation of storytellers.

While Pina will undoubtedly be well-received by modern-dance devotees, it does little to take advantage of the enormous opportunity to open the door for newcomers.

It's the little moments in Farhadi's film that are its most important, speaking every bit as loudly as its big, narrative-driving moments.

That's some admirably mature stuff for a kid's flick in this day of rampant pandering, but it also helps rob the film of a certain breathless, edge-of-your-seat appeal. In other words, there are lulls here.

This is not a feel-good movie. This is the frigid, hard-to-embrace cinematic opposite of a feel-good movie, in fact -- all wrapped in one long, dark metaphor for depression.

Along the way, a raft of experts are featured -- including Times-Picayune outdoor editor Bob Marshall -- speaking bluntly about the cozy relationship between politicians and the oil industry.

It's sadly and tenderly honest -- and so are Hansard and Irglova, as they generously and matter-of-factly open up to the camera.

That's not to say it's a bad film, necessarily. It's just not as good as it could have -- and should have -- been.

A gritty spy thriller directed by relative newcomer Daniel Espinosa, and a film that -- despite the occasional misstep -- ends up being a taut, suspense-filled ride.

It's easy to be interested in the characters' lives -- as tragic as they are -- but it's not nearly as easy to become emotionally invested in them.

What Kwapis does do, however, is nicely handle the film's whale of an emotional payoff.

I guess I can't call the movie sexist as it was largely produced, directed and written by women. So I'll settle for calling it dull, corny and amateurish instead.

A Dangerous Method still feels as if it's based on a rather pedestrian narrative --and so, in the final analysis, Cronenberg's film bores.

As ridiculous as it is, Man on a Ledge isn't a movie that requires suspension of disbelief. It requires the absolute absence of it.

There isn't a whole lot of nuance in writer-director Rachid Bouchareb's unapologetically political movie. As such, it doesn't take much brainpower for a viewer to stay a step or two ahead of his plot the entire way.

All along, though, I was struck by an even stronger feeling, that I was sitting in on somebody else's therapy session. That's not a comfortable feeling -- and that makes Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close considerably less rewarding than it should be.

If nothing else, this is a cinematic high-wire act.

Among them, Polanski's four-person cast boasts four Oscars and eight more nominations, so these are big-league actors who are capable of carrying a film such as this through its occasional miscalculations.

What we're left with is a movie that is about as nourishing as the Junior Mints and nachos available at the theater snack bar. But, then, many a Friday night dinner has been made of far less.

All of the pieces fall into place by the third act -- or most of them, anyway. But Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is such a cold, unemotional film that getting there is a chore, muting the payoff.

What most saw as entirely charming behavior others saw as a nuisance. After all, a playful whale has a way of unwittingly damaging rudders and outriggers and outboard motors and such. Worse, wildlife officials saw Luna's behavior as potentially dangerous, for the people he encountered -- and for the whale himself.

With Knuckle, Palmer offers a thorough -- and extraordinarily compelling -- portrait of the Travellers.

An entirely fitting Christmas Day release -- filled as it is with magic and talk of miracles -- and easily one of the best films of 2011.

Being a fan of the character is not a prerequisite for enjoying the film.

If there's a complaint, it's that it flirts with rambling once the main case is solved -- nearly 20 minutes before the movie ends. But Fincher uses that remaining time to expand on Lisbeth's character, which is hard to hold against him.

In reality, in this age of cookie-cutter entertainment, the movie's success probably is because of Cody's unconventional script. This isn't a silly, disposable, rom-com -- and thank goodness for that.

Ritchie is simply trying to buy a good movie here -- and forgetting that a little brainpower is also required to complete the job.

There's plenty of melodrama, plenty of whispered intensity, plenty of dramatic pauses in his story. There also are a few bizarro -- and, in some cases, unnecessary -- detours. But when it's all said and done, there's no real call for any emotional investment on the part of his audience.

His a wonderful, touching story, one that made me want to scoop up every kid I know who has a scrap of creative talent, and have them watch the film. Because Elmo's story is sweet -- but Clash's is nothing short of inspiring.

Built as it is around horrifying moments of intimate violence, the stark British drama Tyrannosaur can be a hard movie to watch. At the same time, though, it's hard to stop watching once it gets going.

This is a world where training wheels are called "stabilizers" and where children leave something called "mince pies" for Santa. (Um. Ew?) As a result, the occasional line will fly over your little ones' heads. But you can also expect for them to be charmed by it all.

This kind of cinematic delight is a rarity, a warm and masterfully crafted reminder of why we love to go to the movies in the first place.

At times humorous, at times poignant, but always absorbing.

Sprinkled throughout, there is also a handful of wonderfully amusing song-and-dance numbers, written by Bret McKenzie.

Bill Condon returns fans' love and gives them exactly what they have shown they want. That is: uneven storytelling, maudlin dialog and decidedly one-note performances, even from the big names in the cast.

Normally a reliable screenwriter, Sayles probably gives his audience too much credit with regard to its knowledge of what is one of the lesser-known chapters in America's military history. As a result, even with its modern parallels, Amigo makes for dense, slow-going viewing.

The quietly moving drama Martha Marcy May Marlene must be thought of as an "arrival" film. That is, for all that it has going for it (and, it must be said, against it), if it is remembered for anything it will be for introducing a 22-year-old newcomer named Elizabeth Olsen.

But Jack and Jill? Oh, Al.

So while J. Edgar ends up feeling like a mostly complete portrait of the man, and as fascinating a story as it is, it still falls just short of being something entirely memorable.

All in all, Nichols ends up with a richly drawn, and at times disturbing, portrait of one man's descent into madness.

It keeps things light and entertaining. And for $8 admission, that's never a bad investment.

Intermittently interesting, but well-intentioned, it almost makes up for "The Tourist."

Anonymous starts admirably quickly, but Emmerich repeatedly forgets to look over his shoulder to see if his audience is keeping track of which stringy-haired Calvin Klein model is which.

Ends up being a reasonably gripping story of political intrigue, international corruption and one woman's determined fight for justice.

It also is a film that does the impossible: It lubes its audiences' mental gears and sets them to spinning without insulting anyone and without issuing threats of eternal damnation. Subtlety, thy name is Vera. Can I get an "amen"?

Yes, it is derivative, but in a year in which films from the 1980s are getting needless remakes seemingly every other week, this one stands out as a rare one that works. That's a good "Thing."

Plotwise, though, Brewer's Footloose is anything but loose. In fact, it's rigidly loyal to the original, to the point of slavishness.

As clearly calculated and self-consciously cutesy as it is, it's also tender and meaningful stuff -- and far more watchable than other recent attempts to capture the existential angst of adolescence. ("The Art of Getting By.")

When making a film for 10-year-old boys, it doesn't have to be good, necessarily -- just good enough. And that's exactly what Real Steel is: good enough.

Both taut and satisfyingly relevant, it presents a portrait of a compromised elections system -- one that should give the left wing, the right wing and the fringe-dwelling nutjobs something they can all agree on. Namely: We're in deep doo-doo.

It's fun, and it's funny, and -- the best part -- it comes carrying a "yeehaw"-inducing sense of a treasure found.

Along the way, Shut Up, Little Man boasts nice technical elements. And it is, admittedly, amusing to a degree. Peter and Raymond certainly know how to turn a phrase. But things begin to wear thin about halfway through.

It's not a perfect film, mind you. It's too long by a quarter, and actor-turned-director Charles Martin Smith ("The Untouchables") lets any sense of real structure slip away in the film's crowded third act.

Pitt and Hill are fantastic individually, and hilarious when together -- and on a surprisingly engaging script by Aaron Sorkin ("Social Network") and Steve Zaillian ("Schindler's List").

Extraordinarily engaging but surprisingly sobering.

As it turns out, though, the most troubling part of the film for me wasn't the rape scene, or the siege scene or the Southern stereotypes. Rather, it was the audience's reaction to Marsden's chilling spasms of bloody violence as he defends his home. Rather than breaking out in hives, many in the audience broke out in laughter.

With its emphasis on relationships and character, Drive can best be described as a thinking man's action film -- or at least, it could if it didn't ultimately feel so oddly slight. As it is, for all of its positives, it functions mostly as a guilty pleasure rather than as a movie that resonates the way, say, "Blue Valentine" does.

An Ireland-set charmer oozing with a satisfying intelligence and driven by the considerable charisma of Brendan Gleeson ("Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows").

There are some nice surprises in store, as well, but the longer Madden's story goes on, the more manufactured things tend to feel.

Leisurely paced and plot-challenged, it's too unique and kindhearted to be outright disliked, but it's not the kind of film you can get too close to, either.

A message movie that struggles mightily to make an impact but never comes close to capturing the gritty realism on which any blues singer builds his career.

One major reason it succeeds is because of 11-year-old actress Bailee Madison, who brings a wonderful believability to her role as the girl at the center of the film.

A movie with undeniable melancholy underpinnings, but Bertuccelli wisely avoids overdoing the drama to nurse cheap tears from her audience.

Beautifully shot, but terribly dull.

Rather than a moving story of sisterly love, we get little more than a grandly appointed disappointment.

A movie that wants to be a crowd-pleasing romantic comedy at times and a weighty drama at others. It ends up being an imperfect blend of both.

While this nouveau Fright Night does a reasonable job of maintaining the fun spirit of the original film, between the blood splatters and vamp stakings, it never builds on what the original had to offer -- and thus never quite makes a convincing case for its own existence.

It continuously feels less like straight-up reportage and more like a fan film, one built on equal parts idol worship and wishful thinking.

It's easy to forget that you're watching a sci-fi film at all. That's because it's just a shade or two from not even being a sci-fi film.

The actors never stray too far from their comfort zones, resulting in a sporadically funny but mostly bland crime comedy that only occasionally feels fresher or more memorable than that cold pizza you scarfed for breakfast Monday morning.

The Help isn't intended to be so much a movie about the ugliness of the era than an optimistic tale of what can spring from that kind of ugliness, about the ability of people to love one another even when they're surrounded by hatred. And on that level, The Help succeeds wonderfully, a warm and sweet song of hope.

It's his film's metamorphosis into something else -- something every bit as dark, and every bit as intriguing -- that will keep viewers planted in their seats, and, at times, perched on the edges of them.

You want a change-up? Here's a change-up: How about if Hollywood stops spoon-feeding us this uninspired pablum and comes up with a fresh idea or two?

Clever story? Pass. Originality? Nah. A smidgen of real humor to keep parents entertained along with the kiddies? Smurf you.

The engine that really makes Crazy Stupid Love go is the same one that has made Ficarra and Requa's films to this point so appealing: While they thrust their characters into outrageous situations, they always keep things grounded in real, relatable emotion.

A film that is neither great nor horrible. Favreau does enough things right in Cowboys & Aliens to churn out a mostly enjoyable bit of mindless summertime action, just not enough to come close to rivaling his 2008 crowd-pleaser "Iron Man."

The result isn't just the best new romantic comedy released so far this year, but one of the best comedies, period.

There's meaning, great meaning, in Susser's wonderfully oddball little film.

A story of hope amid the ruins -- one that everybody can appreciate, no matter their politics.

Best of all, Disney seems to understand the limits of a preschooler's attention span.

A dazzling, stirring capper to a once-in-a-generation movie franchise.

In the end, Carpenter offers a reasonably nice payoff to this whole misfire.

Seeing Brannaman work in the warm, sun-dappled documentary Buck makes it clear why he was such a perfect fit for Redford's film: Few people can handle horses the way Brannaman does.

Gets considerable gas from the fact that Bateman, Sudeikis and Day so convincingly play three idiotic pals. The real fun, though, is in the fantastic supporting cast.

Breezy but forgettable.

The Beaver also has a tendency to slip around as it finds its footing. But then the powerful third act comes and Foster, with Gibson's help, hits it home.

For the first time in its 25-year existence, Pixar has created an utterly ordinary film.

The fact that there are so many good comic bits here allowed Kasdan to assemble a great comic cast.

These women deserve to have their voices heard, and this film finally lets them have their say.

Right off the bat, things start falling apart for Wiesen's film. While Highmore is more than capable of playing smart and tender, he has yet to figure out how to believably portray so much as a shred of the danger or rebelliousness required for this role.