Dumont's fans might find this latest exercise enjoyable, but his style of filmmaking is an acquired taste. I doubt those without that taste are going to acquire it here.

McDonald's film never really finds its footing -- and The Eagle never takes flight.

It's not really a Disney film. Rather, this is a product of Starz Animation. It's a key distinction, because -- well, because Starz Animation is no Disney, and it's certainly no Pixar. It proves that here.

Many scenes, like Another Year itself, don't actually go anywhere.

It is raw, it is searing, it is honest.

Once the real story hits its stride, it's easy to get lost in Sanctum.

It is beautiful, and it is difficult to watch. It is heartwarming, and it is heart-wrenching. It is absorbing, and it's unsettling.

Like the original, it is a moody, atmospheric film, one boasting significantly more depth than your typical blow-'em-up.

Part "The Great Escape" and part "Lawrence of Arabia, " Weir's epic The Way Back is ambitious in scope, grand in vision and rich with examples of the resilience of the human spirit.

The only waste would be if people didn't go see it.

An uneven story that tries too hard to be meaningful and not hard enough to be funny.

Feels like a movie that belongs in June or July, with all the other comic book fare. But I'll gladly take it now, no matter what the calendar says.

Boasting a rock-solid academic architecture, Bhutto is a film bursting at the seams with gravitas.

To be clear: Despite the holiday flavor, and despite the pint-sized hero, this is no kids' movie. There is swearing. There is blood. There is an army of 180 very nude Santas coursing through the snow. That's not the kind of thing Frank Capra ever could have dreamed of -- and that change of pace is exactly what makes Rare Exports a rare, if unexpected, holiday treat.

The really annoying thing about Jack Black's Gulliver's Travels is not so much that it's a bad movie -- it is bad, but only run-of-the-mill bad, not epic-misfire bad -- but that the movie sullies a piece of literature that has endured for nearly 300 years for the sake of a cheap kiddie flick that'll be forgotten in a month.

One of the chief reasons that director Tom Hooper's richly produced film works so well is because it operates on so many different levels. The King's Speech is all about layers, and Hooper keeps it humming on several at once.

This is even worse than a repetitive rehash. These "Fockers" are just lazy, limp -- and lame.

This is a dirty, stinky Western -- the kind where authenticity is the guiding artistic hand and where a layer of filth and grime have seemingly settled over everything but the popcorn in your lap.

It's the same fine line that so often separates artfulness and "trying too hard" -- a line that Lebanon tramples all over.

Almost feels as if it is two different films. One is the opening 20 minutes or so, in which most of the screwball comedy takes place. The other comes when Yimou gets on with the real story. That's where the payoff comes in.

Clearly, Brevig's past as a visual effects maestro had him focusing more on the look of Yogi Bear than on crafting anything resembling a clever narrative.

How do you know when a romantic comedy just isn't working? Key indicators are that your audience doesn't get goose bumps in the inevitable third-act reunion. They don't get misty-eyed. In short, they don't really care.

A punch-drunk tale whose fitful ramble from Jerry Springer-style family seaminess to "Rocky"-like triumph is elevated enormously by knockout performances.

Arriving with a savage grace, director Darren Aronofsky's nightmare-come-to-life Black Swan cements his reputation not only as one of the more daring filmmakers of his generation, but also as an actor's director of the first order.

It's hard to resist the pairing of such talented actors as Robert Downey Jr. and Zack Galifianakis - and they prove why here. They are funny guys, both of whom make the most of the material.

Without the fantastic performances from Gandolfini, Stewart and Leo, it wouldn't hold together nearly as well as it does.

A documentary that is equal parts sweet science, brutal art and masterful filmmaking.

The whole thing is kind of comforting in a damn-the-torpedoes, laugh-at-what-scares-you-most kind of way.