Seems to exist solely to prove there is something beneath the bottom of the barrel.

A grand, old-fashioned epic, this project is every bit as important as "Gladiator" or a new "Star Wars" episode.

The budget is low and the acting grade C at best, but director Lorena David stages one or two genuinely impressive stunts, and the script, by newbies Scott Duncan and Ned Kerwin, manages to skillfully maintain the plot's central mystery all the way to the end.

Stephen Earnhart's documentary lovingly covers the process -- veering between pathos, inspiration and mockery

If you can roll with these moments, the rest of the film pays off, but even with a relatively happy ending (one that, given the characters in question, may not last), it's a heck of a downer for date night.

Like so many other allegedly scary movies, it gets so tangled up in The Twist that it chokes the energy right out of the very audience it seeks to frighten.

It's vastly enjoyable in a low-down, scandal-mongering way.

The dumbest thing this side of a lobotomy.

This is mostly well-constructed fluff, which is all it seems intended to be.

While nostalgically recalling the past, this is a clear-eyed look at Jewish history that should prove compelling even to those who've never heard of the Yiddish theater.

Les Destinées has a leisurely, contemplative pace without ever growing boring. Still, at the end, we are left somehow empty. For all the time we spend with these people, we never really get inside of them.

Film falls into the same trap as the book: a moderately interesting setup ultimately undone by an ending that makes the audience feel like fools for investing any sympathy with the characters.

Feels like an in-joke, a party where everyone on the screen's having a better time than anyone in the theater, and they all couldn't care less. And that's just no fun at all.

Full of fresh and unexpected observations about the cross-culturally complex lives of second-generation Indians living in the U.S.

Merely labeling National Lampoon's Van Wilder "sophomoric" or "vulgar" doesn't do justice to the perpetrators' dedication.

Beautifully shot and finely acted movie.

Loquacious and dreary piece of business.

It's a paint-by-numbers job of the worst sort, stuffed with more tired old baseball baloney than Harry Caray and about as dramatic as shagging flies in St. Pete.

The underlying theme constantly changes shape, not in a way that seems rich in ambiguity, but in a way that seems poorly worked out.

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.

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

Resnick has crafted an ambitious, if extremely uneven, character study.

Its most redeeming quality is that it's so inoffensive parents can feel OK about taking kids.

The cumulative effect is less thrilling than it is merely amusing.

It's utterly frustrating: What could and should have been biting and droll is instead a tepid waste of time and talent.

Just be advised guys, Blade II is as estrogen-free as movies get, so you might want to leave your date behind for this one, or she's gonna make you feel like you owe her big-time.

Not only unfunny, but downright repellent.

As a whole it's vibrant, witty and richly detailed.