Scenes of the director as a school-age boy in a Varda film are haunting, but end up simply sparking a desire to see Varda's work.

Though the cast is energetic and the intrigues diverting, you'll have to distance yourself from reality to enjoy so much outlandish scheming.

Cruise's tightly controlled performance holds our attention all the way through to the tense finale. Still, McQuarrie's script never gets at the heart of a character who's already inspired such a passionate fan base.

Super starts off feeling like a cult comedy you might catch during a midnight film festival. But since Gunn never nails his tone, the concept makes more sense than the execution.

A surprisingly genial and affecting comedy about the trials and tribulations of teenage rebellion during the Reagan '80s.

It's a slow time at the cineplex, and the sinister scares served up by Brad Anderson are just spooky enough to freak out undemanding horror fans.

The changes are meant to make it easier for audiences to accept Vincent's loyalty to Angelo and Joey, but they blunt the genetic mystery that made McAlary's story so compelling in the first place.

At its best moments, the film offers a tender portrait of the park's youngest regulars, charmingly earnest performers from a nearby music school. But then, inevitably, their stories fade into a backdrop, as his camera turns to catch yet more women sunning in the square.

True Story is a prisoner of its own dull storytelling.

I Give It a Year has all the outrageous, embarrassment-based moments you’d expect from one of the creators of “Borat.” Indeed this film has one of the best charades gags ever. But there’s plenty of sweetness and charm, too. You root for both bride and groom, and cheer when they finally say, “I don’t.”

As a low-cost baby-sitter, this high-energy sequel definitely does the trick.

Despite the incongruous romance and abrupt action beats, Crowe gives a likable, sympathetic performance. But it all starts to dry up before our eyes. Emotions feel false or melodramatic, flashbacks are drawn out and coincidences and connections are forced.

Quale has brought this anemic franchise back to life, with an unexpected infusion of humor and energy.

On the bright side, Ivan Reitman's disappointing new comedy isn't just cheap and formulaic, but so forgettable few people will even remember she (Portman) was in it.

Americans, for better or worse, have already seen plenty of budget-busting action flicks with half-baked political pretensions.

Woven amid the glib one-liners and contrived scenarios is an unexpected, and undeniably touching, sense of heart.

The big twist to Closed Circuit is stated in the film’s TV ads, so even the element of surprise is lost. There may have been the making of a juicy, episodes-long BBC series here, but as it is, there’s barely any juice at all.

Scott, Winstead and Howard are charming, while Poehler, O’Hara and Jenkins have a grand time bickering. Since Zicherman doesn’t ask much of us in the first place, they make it easy enough to commit.

"This is a woman's trip," it is announced in Tyler Perry's For Colored Girls, and how you respond to those words will likely determine how you respond to the film itself.

Director Nimrod Antal’s grungy gang-of-thieves pic is tough and, for this genre, surprisingly ethical.

Sadly, Hit & Run, for as much sporadic fun and genuine heart it has, runs out of gas. But it's not for lack of trying, and that counts for something.

Director Ryan Murphy achieved a major casting coup in landing Julia Roberts to play Gilbert - or Liz, as she's called here. As it turns out, though, a lesser star may have been a better choice.

Gugino is having a ball, but every scene feels like an oh-so-arch one-act.

As a story, Burton's Planet of the Apes is more of a comic-book creation than either of his "Batman" movies.

Violent, cool and street-smart, Shaft supplies everything you want in a summer movie.

Juices up the visuals with fancy camerawork and split screens, but it can't distract enough from the vulgarity of the material.

With a few exceptions, the Indian characters are two-dimensional buffoons whose traditions are presented as silly quirks meant for cheap laughs.

For all its spiritual angst, Constantine is about as silly as fantasies get.

The boat rides and picnics we're privy to are an enjoyable way to get to a bittersweet conclusion. Yet it's hard not to feel like we've taken this trip before.

Even the food - usually the centerpiece of a restaurant movie - is oddly uninspired. Despite Zeta-Jones' best efforts, barely a moment here feels organic, or fresh.

The movie tends to wander between story lines and characters without any real sense of purpose.

If you find a movie with a more annoying central performance than the one given by Brenda Blethyn in Cherie Nowlan's Introducing the Dwights, keep it to yourself.

If "Up" is the animated equivalent of an ice cream sundae, Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs is the Popsicle: Neither as rich nor as memorable, but more than welcome on a long, hot summer day.

It's a romantic comedy, though neither funny nor romantic. It's a ghost story, though not scary. It's a satire about publishing, but without teeth.

A prime reason to see this, if you don't mind some really screechy acting by some of the supporting players and insipid metaphors for love and commitment, is its parade of fine flesh, both male and female.

High spirits and colorful hissy fits go a long way toward masking the inexperience of this cast of mostly nonprofessionals. It's a charmer.

Despite a somewhat unpolished look and a few slips into cliche, the film makes up in sincerity what it lacks in sophistication.

Save your breath, and your money.

Perhaps less-sophisticated preteens won't notice the amateurish acting, clunky direction and heavy-handed tenor of the lessons.

Kathryn Hahn gives an outstanding performance in what is ultimately a not-very-amazing movie.

An excellent Keener commits reliably to the role and does give us moments worth savoring. But the underwritten script and misguided direction leave her stranded.

He definitely needs more experience, but writer/director Jake Goldberger displays an appealingly skewed sense of humor in his noir debut.

The heart of the film is the touching relationship between two lonely souls. The lovely, feisty chemistry between Rowlands and Jackson will keep even the most cynical viewers on their toes.

It is not a great ad-vain-cha, and it's a lousy movie. But it underscores Irwin's kitschy popularity as a sideshow entertainer on the Animal Planet channel, where he cheerfully wrestles or rescues all manner of Aussie wildlife while telling the camera what great danger he is in.

Smart, spiky comedy upends every traditional notion of love, sex and family.

Stooping to low-rent laffs By ELIZABETH WEITZMAN SPECIAL TO THE NEWS Ben Stiller, Drew Barrymore & Eileen Essel (on floor) DUPLEX. With Ben Stiller, Drew Barrymore. Directed by Danny DeVito. Running time: 88 mins. Rated PG-13: Slapstick violence, gross-out humor. There are people who can look at a creaky, crumbling house and home right in on the solid framework and fabulous fireplace. In "Duplex," Ben Stiller is the fireplace. As for the structure, well, this rather rickety comedy boasts a solid base, though sadly, too much of it has been plastered over with moldy jokes and leaky plot devices.

Good acting and dull dialogue.

Never gives us what it promised: a glorious, totally new sense of horror.

Going in Style has gone a little soft. The geezers-go-gangsta story is back, but in a remake that lacks the edge that made the 1979 original memorable. It’s cuddly when it should be cranky, nice when it needs to be a little nasty.

It is a purely mechanical movie that is no more dazzling to the eye than a nighttime landing at Kennedy airport.

A movie that's so anachronistically mushy and awkward, it earns extra credit simply for being so innocent.

Knightley and Canet make a far more compelling pair. As they wander through the city after hours, doing nothing more than talking, they generate the kind of romantic heat that's all too rare onscreen.

This all feels like an homage to Gilliam’s “Brazil,” though Zero Theorem also has shadows of “12 Monkeys” and other films in the onetime Monty Python animator’s cinematic carnival.

While the actors are appealing, their weirdly co-dependent characters aren't. And they don't learn enough to balance out the bland, intermittently irritating nature of their adventures.

This stoners-meet-government-assassins mashup is as meandering and paranoid as a guy toking up in front of City Hall. Sometimes that’s amusing, but most of the time it’s tiring.

Too long by about 20 minutes, and takes itself too seriously near the end. But if you're looking for a movie for a boys' night out, it's a winner.

Jennifer Aniston and Steve Zahn? Who thought that would be a good match? So it's to everyone's ­credit that by the time the ­movie is over, you'll wonder why they were never paired together before.

Everything is perfectly entertaining. Too perfectly.

It's a formula, all right, but a strong cast goes a long way toward carrying it off. We get one, for the most part, in Alfredo De Villa's cheerfully familiar dramedy.

This is not a film for the impatient. But director Aparna Sen finds the poetry in romantic restraint, which is a mighty rare resource these days.

Ultimately, Murder by Numbers has been reduced to a tease, giving us a hint -- mostly through the fine performances of Gosling, who creates a charismatic sociopath, and Pitt, who's character seems genuinely troubled -- of the kind of relevant social drama it might have been.

A sumptuous feast for the eyes and an occasionally exhilarating stimulant to the heart. But beware my hearty: It will tie your rum-soaked brain in knots.

Though he plays two other roles, Perry only really cuts loose when he dons Madea's housecoat, turning her into a devilishly funny voice of reason. Likewise, the movie tenses up when she's offscreen, becoming the sort of moralistic soap opera we've seen from Perry before.

Anthony Byrne's lazy drama is insulting to just about everyone, including Maeve Binchy, who wrote the short story on which it was based. But nobody fares well, especially cast members Vanessa Redgrave, Brenda Fricker and Imelda Staunton.

As with so many message movies, this one trades ­nuance for naked outrage. The filmmakers'heartfelt intent is admirable, but right now they’re competing with a more compellingly told reality.

The movie's considerable problems are not the fault of its dedicated star, Nicole Kidman. She does her job beautifully - which, come to think of it, may be something of a problem after all.

Like the politicians it skewers, it knows the real winner is the stupidity, stupid.

Solondz's refusal to frame his dark, misanthropic impulses with an overriding point-of-view seems a cheap copout for a film whose title proposes that it's about the storytelling process.

Proyas creates an engaging, high-octane energy, boosted by an up-for-anything cast.

García Bernal's irrepressible charm provides a burst of welcome energy with each brief appearance.

It's got a hot premise, some cool sets, attractive stars and action that lets up only when it thinks you're about to surrender.

It's easy to see the potential in Lottery Ticket, which boasts an entertaining idea and a game cast. But you only win big if every number hits.

The Ten is so proud of its own wit and irreverence that when you fail to be equally impressed, you are likely to wonder if your own sense of humor is, in some way, deficient. Rest assured it is not.

The upside and downside of surveillance cameras are explored in ways both funny and sad in writer-director Adam Rifkin's imaginative, ultimately disturbing ode to high-tech voyeurism.

It’s McCarthy’s complex use of language, rather than the plot’s grueling imagery, that elevate the book. There’s simply not enough insight here to make the punishment worthwhile.

As cool a summer lark as you'll find.

Unabashedly earnest, completely predictable and packed with enough high-voltage dance scenes to make any audience applaud.

If Welcome to the Rileys were a thicker-skinned movie -- if it were the movie it thinks it is -- so much of the outcome wouldn't be telegraphed the minute you read the premise.

Alas, the split-screen compositions, slow-motion effects, pensive closeups and prosthetic teeth can’t distract from what’s missing: Faulkner’s pointed but deeply buried observations of the human condition.

A taut and thought-provoking thriller .

An intended throwback to the halcyon days of colorful studio cartoons, more in the Chuck Jones style than Disney, and the animation of its characters and Western motif is fine. But the writing of co-directors Will Finn and John Sanford and their characterizations are embarrassingly bad.

Day's primary mistake is an occasional attempt to get serious. With a deft comic touch and a topic that's still timely, he doesn't need to play it straight.

The new cast is no match for the star-clustered original, but Lucas, who looks much like a young Paul Newman (you may think you're watching "The Towering Inferno"), has a strong, matinee-idol presence, and Russell is a reliable old hand at this sort of thing.

For a while, Leterrier does manage to conjure up a little bit of magic between all these charming actors. And then, presto: Just like that, it’s gone.

Another nicely understated performance from Jesse Eisenberg anchors this shambling drama.

Chadwick builds a brisk pace and sweeping scope that initially grab our interest. But this Anne's sole motivations are sex and greed, and the wild rumors that were designed to destroy her are treated here as gospel.

An epic example of muddled storytelling, chintzy excitement and scatter-brained execution.

The pacing is so tedious and the action so unexciting that it's a real thrill when J.K. Simmons shows up as a wry alien expert — and a huge disappointment when he disappears a few minutes later.

While Messina and Ireland are fine company, writer-director Matt Ross' conceit tires you out.

The sole treasure of Cowboys & Aliens is that director Jon Favreau ("Iron Man") has fashioned an actual rawhide ride from a graphic novel (that took six writers to wrangle to the screen).

The film’s “What if?” scenario takes the germ of an interesting social-science idea and lets it rot in a nasty, ethically questionable cesspool of junk cinema.

A solidly crafted, entertaining melodrama.

There aren't many better examples of how commercial intuition sabotages story integrity in today's Hollywood.

More amiably mindless summer distraction than just about anything Hollywood has to offer this season.

Ultimately, The Four Feathers is strong where its predecessors were weak (in the authenticity of combat) and weak where they were strong (in the larger-than-life quality of the characters). It's not a good exchange.

It strains to hard for laughs, with stale jokes about unweildy corpses.

Charles Shyer's update is a pointlessly tame romp.

The film makers are so anxious to please their audience that they turn the last act into a preposterous cat-and-mouse game that nullifies the integrity of the story.