There is more anxiety than loving humor in the proceedings, and a noticeable lack of charm.

Captures David Bowie's meticulous identity quest with all the frenetic energy (read: slop) of a wildlife documentary on drugs.

The film was shot with six cameras simultaneously and the images are projected on six split screens, à la Mike Figgis' "Time Code." While the subject's appeal is limited and the film's 106-minute running time excessive, viewers who do respond to the pic will find it raw, real and cathartic.

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.

Delivers a quick buzz, lots of stuff to look at, and a totally nonnutritious joy that can only be attained with the aid of artificial flavorings and Yellow #5. In a nutshell, it's the perfect summer movie.

I liked when they had the paint fights and the pillow fights.

A piquant entertainment and zeitgeist reflector designed to embolden little thrashettes.

Filmed by director Lorene Machado on direct video, it's a visually primitive affair. But you're not likely to care, given the chance to witness Cho's often incisive, but never hectoring, take on life as she's lived and observed it.

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

Toback has taken a distinctly '60s-ish personal experience and done his best to transplant it into the current, vastly different, cultural milieu. Harvard Man is a semi-throwback, a reminiscence without nostalgia or sentimentality.

Brilliant new documentary.

Just barely diverting, even at under 80 minutes -- a TV episode inflated past its natural length.

A torturous, mawkish, ill-conceived remake.

Director Mick Jackson (L.A. Story) delivers playful and charming teens-turned-30 moxie.

For all its brilliantly brazen sequences and energetic supporting players (as the young lovers' mothers, Brenda Blethyn and Lisa Banes are terrific), Pumpkin's abrupt shifts of mood and needlessly complicated ending(s) render its latter third a bit of a chore.

This limp gender-bender-baller from a first-time director and rookie screenwriter steals wholesale from that 1982's "Tootsie," forgetting only to retain a single laugh.

Almost two and a half hours long, and mostly consists of calm conversations. But don't be deterred, or you'll miss out on a study of character, class and changing times that puts Robert Altman's stodgy "Gosford Park" to shame.

Star Jeremy Renner seems shorter than Dahmer, but is otherwise a look-alike and gives a convincingly intense and weird performance. Bruce Davison (as Papa Dahmer) and the rest of the cast also do nice work.

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.

Very charming and funny movie.

It just doesn¹t get very good until halfway through, in large part because the usually excellent Walston is miscast.

Either a put-on or a straight shooter; that you can't tell the difference underscores its small but ultimately overwhelming flaws.

The over-the-top sincerity that is so rewarding in "Face/Off" (1998), Woo's best American film, feels too clichéd in this more conventional context.

Give Care and McFarlane points for trying to do something innovative with the same old thing. But realize that, as spruced up as the facade may be, this movie is indeed still the same old thing.

In tampering with history, these storytellers present to us a rare and wonderful case of enlightenment beyond the accepted truth.

Not only an exceptional thriller, but a transcendent summer movie: It assumes, for two hours, you've brain and heart enough to stick with a film that doesn't condescend, doesn't beat you up and doesn't dumb you to death.

While you think you're watching just another in a series of British gangster films, you may suddenly realize that you're watching what is, thus far, the year's best horror movie.

Warner Bros. is presumably aiming this movie not at children but at full-grown dopers with bad munchies glued to the Cartoon Network. Dude, pass the Scooby snacks.