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What we have here is an historical document of inestimable value, describing in no uncertain terms the terrible and beautiful times before AIDS.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