Not to be missed. And pay close attention to the finale. It's a genuine surprise.

Probably like nothing you've ever seen before. In a cool world, it would be guaranteed not only the Best Animated Feature Oscar, but Best Picture as well.

Maniacally funny. It remains neck and neck with "Young Frankenstein" as Brooks' best film.

Coppola and Murch have balanced their new edit with grace notes of sweetness, elegance and eroticism, and the payoff is grand, providing both a reprieve from the multiple blitzkriegs and a break in the monotony of the cruise up the Nung.

The plot may be nothing, but the film is something indeed.

The pacing is slow, but the film is entrancing and earns a permanent place in the viewer's mind.

De Sica's 1952 neorealist masterpiece; it's a stark snapshot in which all is revealed about the "daily life of mankind," as the director once offered by way of description.

We're told that this new version is tweaked and enhanced, with the E.T. puppet digitally smoothed out, and the guns in the meanies' hands removed (silly, but bravo). [2002 re-release]

The film succeeds as massive, astonishing entertainment; verily, enthralling us is its chief goal.

An authentic and thrilling glimpse into Inuit culture and tradition.

What we have here is an historical document of inestimable value, describing in no uncertain terms the terrible and beautiful times before AIDS.

For all its mystery and its stylistic finesse, there is something vaguely plodding about The Sweet Hereafter.

Despite the presence of several sublimely cracked actors and some of the most abrasive white-trash caricatures since "Raising Arizona," Birch totally owns this movie.

For most people, four hours pushes the outer comfort limits for theatrical viewing. My Voyage to Italy is well worth the time, but bringing along a thermos of espresso isn't a bad idea either.

Altman's technique also allows his huge cast to act up a storm, in the best sense. Gosford Park has roughly half the best actors in England in it.

This film made Dietrich a star, and it's easy to see why: Slightly more voluptuous than in her later films, Dietrich is the embodiment of the pleasures of the flesh.

In elevating bawdy teen farce to political metaphor without squeezing the fun out, Alfonso Cuarón has pulled off a nice little miracle.

Despite its two-and-a-half hour running time, the movie flies by, so absorbing are its story, songs and stars.

The confusing, demanding role finally brings the actor home, and us with him.

A subtle mood piece in which a man's collapse is examined so rigorously that one almost hopes for a murder to come along and break the tension.

One of the finest qualities of Amadeus is that it reminds us of those rare occasions when an Oscar sweep is actually merited.

While this road may contain too many potholes -- and plotholes -- to sustain an even ride, there are moments of greatness scattered throughout to remind us why Lynch is vital and why the French think he's so nifty.

A beautifully acted, carefully written meditation on one woman's grief, the enigma of imagination, the persistence of desire and -- let's face it -- the power of denial.

If Dubus' work always resembled some sort of literary therapy session, as has often been said, then Field's version requires grief counseling. It is, at times, that devastating.

Varda, still pixieish in her early 70s, is having fun here.

While much of the film is as scattershot as life itself, there are a few superb sequences involving lucid dreaming that really get down to business.

It's an amazing story, but, in addition to its intrinsic interest, the Shackleton expedition has another remarkable draw: Crewman Frank Hurley had brought along not only still cameras, but a movie camera as well, providing us with an extraordinary record of the ship's voyage.

Offers an enormous amount of pure silly fun for the entire non-nuclear family, no matter what gender they may be.

The film is a whirlwind blur, a kinetic thrill ride through the industrial backwater that was one of punk and post-punk's most fertile Promised Lands: Manchester.

An extraordinary film from a born filmmaker.

Sometimes the cinema is just heavenly, and this is one of those times.

The audience responds to Out of Sight the way Jack and Karen do to each other. Instantly we like the way it looks, moves, and sounds. Ultimately we like how it makes us feel.

Scorsese's rockudrama withstands big-screen scrutiny some 24 years after its initial release.

Lawrence constructs a vivid pastiche of human foibles, nicely flavored with a touch of suspense and some well-timed jolts of humor. In the end it's a terrifically entertaining film, if not quite so profound as the makers might wish.

Tanovic describes it as "a very serious film with a sense of humor." It is an apt description for a very remarkable film, one of the best of the year.

An inspiring effort, lavishly lensed and featuring a spicy (if occasionally synthy) score from A.R. Rahman. Best of all, it's also something of a musical, as the characters are not above breaking into song and dance to serve their emotions.

Shrek isn't clever or smart. It just wants you to think it is, through wink after wink after wink.

A spare film, with little dialogue but a lot to say.

On one level, Together is a countercultural soap opera, though played more as bittersweet comedy than as drama.

It's moving; but it's also endlessly engaging, uproariously funny at moments, informative, and eventually touching in ways one might not have expected.

A film of tremendous complexity and depth, a galvanic force that sends the mind reeling.

The film is a masterpiece of nuance and characterization, marred only by an inexplicable, utterly distracting blunder at the very end.

This is a dark, often funny walk through Ingmar Bergman turf.

Audiard keeps things shaky, grim, claustrophobic, doomed. His film has the feel of documentary, as he follows Clara through the daily grind that pulverizes her. We're in her head, literally.

A remarkable movie with an unsatisfying ending, which is just the point.

Money Can't Buy You Happiness. It hasn't been this vividly re-examined in decades, and we're the richer for it.

Weaving many interconnected plot lines and more than a dozen lives together, this gifted writer-director has fashioned a bleak, brilliant comedy about loneliness, lovelessness, and alienation--a film that constantly upends our assumptions about what is heartbreaking, what is hilarious, and what is both.

Pustules, puberty and pregnancy...seven stories tall! Mostly grand but occasionally grody

Infectious, intoxicating joy is the emotion conveyed in every frame of this ravishing, exuberant documentary.

Powerful, sensuous and thematically hokey transsexual adventure.

Despite its lively tone and brisk editing, the project's sad epilogue -- shot two years later -- suggests that Abraham and Mohammed will be duking it out on the world's dime for some time to come.

But in a calculated move that pays off handsomely, the picture's remarkable power is reserved for the end, when the intertwining themes coalesce in an extraordinarily satisfying and stirring way.

Here it is -- another double cross for which you will, and should, hand over your few grubby bucks.

One of the few American independent films right now that actually deserves its high praise.

It's Mamet without the rich slanginess and heat of which he's capable at his best.

Can barely move during its final half hour, which is a shame, because until then it's a frenetic, engaging ride -- a huge grin, not unlike the one Tom Cruise now hides behind his grownup's braces.

A beautiful and timeless achievement, Conrad Rooks' 1972 adaptation of Herman Hesse's appropriation of East Indian mythology still entrances.

Shot in stylish black and white, with a memorably low-key performance from Duchesne, Bob le Flambeur is definitely worth checking out on the big screen in a fresh print.

Huppert has never looked more beautiful. Despite her severe expression and lack of makeup, her face communicates enormous character. She proves absolutely spellbinding.

As giddy and antic as any great Warner Bros. cartoon of the 1930s and '40s -- it bears seeing more than once, if only to allow for the sight gags that play second fiddle to the plot, a rarity in animation -- but also resonant and real. In other words, it's the perfect movie.

Some of the finest ensemble acting this year.

Eureka is, quite extraordinarily, never dull.

If the performances are the prime reason the film is as engaging as it is, it must also be said that Majidi's visual style seems far more sophisticated than in "Children of Heaven."

One of the compulsively watchable films this year, second only to "Memento." It's a must-see, except for those with a sensitivity to on-screen mayhem.

Those with an interest in new or singular sorts of film experiences will find What Time Is It There? well worth the time.

It's funny, heroic, exaggerated and, most of all, energetic; the film speeds along as though afraid to lose the audience's attention for even a moment.

As a document of rockin, youth rebellion, the film lodges perfectly between "American Graffiti" and "Trainspotting."

The film could be subtitled "Six Characters in Search of an Ending:" When they find that ending, it is gently, delightfully uplifting.

Wisely, Run Lola Run lasts something under 80 minutes; any longer, and it would have been as exhausting and boring as a half-hour Donna Summer track.

The sensitive art-house viewer should be warned: Though slow-moving at first, the film ends in explosions and violent death, with a level of sadism that will undoubtedly prove too intense for some viewers.

What Nolan does accomplish here that we haven't seen from him before is staging a few horrifyingly effective suspense set pieces -- one of which, in particular, is likely to stay with you for a long time.

An exciting, sharply realized melodramatic film noir, based on Elizabeth Sanxay Holding's novel "The Blank Wall."

Headey, Skarsgård and Rampling flesh these people out marvelously, bringing them fully to life. It's almost a pity: The more real they become, the less pleasant is the time we spend with them.

The pleasure is in watching veteran star Bouquet and the versatile Berling go at it -- they even seem to look alike.

From the start, a comprehensible, if necessarily simplified, sense of an extremely complicated moment in history.

Though not as visually impressive as comparable Terry Gilliam fare such as Jabberwocky, the verbal wit is fast and abundant (abetted with cameos by Billy Crystal, Peter Cook and Mel Smith), and you'd better believe the midnight movie crowd will remember almost all of it.

For better or worse, the filmmaker says nothing directly political about the cruel fate suffered by her people, but the dark poetry of her allusions is powerful.

The film's biggest strength is the same characteristic that may cause people to underrate it: that the group of friends we watch onscreen feel not like England's greatest actors showing off, but rather a group of friends who have indeed known each other for years through life's little triumphs and large tragedies.

The film proves unrelentingly grim -- and equally engrossing.

What's most impressive about this is that, if one didn't know better, the naturalism of the performances could be taken for that of a documentary.

Brilliant new documentary.

In the end, leaves you feeling both violated and startlingly informed, as if a mugger had whacked you in a dark alley.

Nunez's direction is as self-consciously homey as a floral welcome mat.

The miracle here is not so much that Pray captures the DJs in peak form, but that he comprehensively captures SO MANY of them.

Pulsates with music, dance, color and laughter, but also glows with quiet moments of drama.

A film worth your time, and if you know going into it that there's no closure, it'll give you all the more freedom to enjoy what IS there.

It's a killing comedy for people who have learned to stop worrying and love their iden-tity crisis.

We expect some depth and perspective from filmmakers, but even in talking about the movie Peralta sounds like an ex-high school quarterback who never got over the Big Game, or an old campus revolutionary who's never glimpsed the folly that went along with the fervor.

Demy's films are often described in terms of music; this one is more like a tango in which one person leads and refuses to forfeit the position.

Dramatically effective, thanks in large part to Montand's impassioned performance.

Dench is wholly extraordinary in a characterization that is frequently muted, literally and necessarily.

One expects more from writer-director Wes Anderson (and his co-scribbler, Owen Wilson) than such frivolous fun that bears no lingering effect.

A modest, uneventful film, buoyed by fine, albeit low-key, performances and the ring of truth.

Manages to be both astoundingly derivative and reasonably entertaining at the same time.

Although frustratingly confusing -- often the viewer can't be sure who is on which side or why -- the film brims with physical grandeur, exquisite costumes, and a captivating performance by Blanchett.

Very charming and funny movie.

With all its hip-hop and jive, Bulworth may seem new-style -- but actually it's proffering a populism that Frank Capra would have loved.

It's the most uplifting movie of a numbing year -- a feel-good film full of songs about feeling god-awful.