The central narrative is ultimately too one-dimensional to sustain interest.

If you want an introduction to the director's work, you're better off with "La Belle Noiseuse" (1991) and his masterpiece, "Celine and Julie Go Boating" (1974).

The minimalist style keeps the suspense warm. The movie is unusual among teen horror flicks in that it largely avoids the usual cheap thrills and bursts of scare music. Instead, it carefully repeats isolated images and sound bites until they take on a shivery power.

If it's violence ye seek, and violently confused storytelling, look ye no further.

Japan’s loony suicide culture seems like an adequately scary backdrop for a horror movie, but the routine horror flick The Forest mostly settles for cheap thrills.

A family-friendly, Hallmark Channel-ready musical dramatic fable whose plot more closely resembles Spike Lee’s “Red Hook Summer.’’

A visual treat diminished by lifeless dialogue and self-conscious acting.

Although deft editing provides neat segues, "Safety" suffers from a case of too many dramas, too little time. Characters are given no chance to develop and, too often, their behavior turns on a dime, hurtling off into a parallel universe of extreme acts.

Frey's harrowing depiction of this milieu transcends the indifferent acting and contrived plot.

A sort of grown-up version of “Moonrise Kingdom,” France’s Love at First Fight has some youthful free-range charm but not nearly as much as its predecessor.

Without a humanizing element like Blunt’s character, this whole grim affair is just a race to the bottom in which everyone loses.

You've seen him be funny on TV for nothing, but you'll have to shell out $10.75 to see Ray Romano unwrap a Subway sandwich.

First-time feature director Clare Niederpruem gives it her very earnest all, but falls short both on continuity issues (a smoldering curling iron, for example, is dropped to the floor and immediately forgotten) and on making her gradually aging cast match up.

Ultimately, this throwback, made-for-TV-style film takes the easy way out in a cheesy climax, but its resolute quaintness may appeal to the kind of viewers who regard electricity as disturbingly newfangled.

Despite being named “Gator Bodine,” Franco seems like something Statham would scrape off his boots. Put it this way: Franco needs a baseball bat to be intimidating; Statham just needs to be Statham.

Atmospheric and moves briskly, but it's basically TV writ large.

The Inheritance has a promising start but soon becomes preachy and melodramatic.

You know a low-budget indie has problems when it's less emotionally honest than a studio-backed project like "(500) Days."

Blair has a colorless, weirdly teenage delivery that doesn’t convey Hesse’s vivid, brilliant personality. It is odd to watch a documentary where the subject becomes more interesting when she is discussed by other people.

I don't think we're expected to take After.Life any more seriously than Ricci's last extended (near) nude role in the immortal "Black Snake Moan." That one was more fun.

A sweet comedy with a bright cast and few surprises, the film did well in China, where it was aimed at teenagers. Since Hilary Duff isn't in the cast, its success probably won't cross over to America.

“Risky Business” it’s not, and Delevingne is no Rebecca De Mornay.

The film at least achieves the level of mediocrity thanks to the professionalism of two slightly younger participants — Kline and Mary Steenburgen, who also have Oscars on their mantels but go well beyond phoning it in here.

The movie falls into the same uneasy category as "Eight Legged Freaks": too tongue-in-cheek to be thrilling, not funny enough to be a comedy.

Represents a kind of progress. Where once only a few ultra-talented, lucky black filmmakers got to make big studio movies, now we have standard-issue Hollywood schlock that happens to be made by, about and for African-Americans.

Overall, the insubstantial Lucky Stiff feels like community theater with an extravagant budget.

A fussy piece of schmaltz that makes you long for "Stand By Me," a vastly superior coming-of-age tale from King's pen.

It's a one-joke movie, if "Jewish mothers are annoying" is a joke. But just as a film about boredom should not actually be boring, no movie should credibly simulate the experience of being stuck in a car with Barbra Streisand for eight days.

Director Suri Krishnamma capably depicts the darkness in Jim’s head with his shadowy surroundings, misanthropic inner monologue and increasingly frequent hallucinations, and Griffith’s vulnerable performance is a standout. But the film’s final third seems needlessly graphic.

There are a few decent jolts in Disturbia, but overall this ultra-predictable thriller doesn't live up to the hype.

Out of the Furnace is much longer on style and belligerence than actual substance.

Glosses over the depression and alcoholism that have bedeviled Walker as well as any relationships he might have had. But that doesn't make the film any less interesting.

Often so silly, it's surreal.

The main reason for Winter's Bone to exist is that it delivers a little voyeuristic thrill -- a bit of poverty porno -- for the critics who awarded it their highest honors at this year's Sundance Film Festival.

The main problem is the criminal subplot, full of Aussie villains snarling “mate” at one another and landing bloodless punches on Dean. 33 Postcards is what happens when someone grafts a prison angle onto “Pollyanna” — the tough guys just get in the way.

Treats us to some feverish decapitating, juicy stabbing and non-anesthetized fingertip removal.

It's a typical Solondz sad-sack tale, but this film seems to be disgusted by its own characters, which isn't true of the director's best work ("Happiness," "Welcome to the Dollhouse"). We don't need to like Abe, but it's unsettling to feel the director might actively dislike him.

Seriously lost in the woods. This aimless epic about a pair of charlatan brothers sinks under the weight of a problematic script, questionable star casting, hamfisted editing -- and penny-pinching by Gilliam’s latest patrons, the Brothers Weinstein.

What begins as a clever action-comedy a la “Pineapple Express” or Eisenberg’s earlier “Zombieland” devolves into a standard shoot-’em-up, with gore splashed around to distract us from the dearth of wit.

A glacially paced, emotionally frosty epic (with a top-drawer cast).

Becomes almost laughably melodramatic and wields just about every rock-movie cliché in the book.

The Secret Life of Bees showcases Fanning, who is growing into an impressive teenage actress - even if a scene where she licks honey off an older boy's finger is, well, creeptastic.

Agreeable this film certainly is, but the shagginess never seems to take shape.

The tone teeters between delicate and affected, and there’s only so much flitting around and soulful stares a movie can sustain before an audience starts wanting something more earthbound.

Infuriating grab-bag of a movie.

It's a clever concept that should play well on TV and the Internet. But as a big-screen movie, Life in a Day -- which lists brothers Tony and Ridley Scott as producers -- elicits a shrug and a question: Who cares?

Only really little tykes will find the surplus of pratfalls and poo and fart jokes a hoot.

It tries to be an update of "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" crossed with "Pygmalion," but while it has some funny and even original moments, it's too predictable to be "all that."

It isn't the laugh riot of the year.

Slight and unremarkable.

“Pieces” becomes just like every other addiction film, relying on colorful addict characters and torture-porn scenes to arrive at a hopeful end.

A glossy, empty and ultimately unsatisfying — if undeniably entertaining — movie.

Despite the generally talented cast of Anesthesia, its linked-lives format, which we’ve seen so many times before, is frustrating: Too much adds up to not quite enough.

The film is loving but shallow.

Essentially a feature-length commercial for both the growing sport of competitive cheerleading and ESPN2 .

The documentary Tabloid shows that an oddball lead character and a smirky style do not necessarily add up to a complete movie.

The once-funny Robin Williams is still stuck in his excruciating touchy-feely mode.

Disappointingly skin-deep and almost shockingly wholesome, Mary Harron's The Notorious Bettie Page lives up to neither its title nor its advertising slogan, "the pin-up sensation that shocked the nation."

I’d rather put Baby Shark on repeat all day than spend another 90 minutes with this adult horse.

At nearly two hours, Big Man Japan is clever (in a sick sort of way) but overlong. It needs judicious editing -- more mockumentary, fewer superhero antics.

McKellen, Csokas, Bonneville and particularly Richardson are so good and convincing in their characterizations that you can almost overlook the increasingly unbelievable twists that Asylum takes. Almost.

In Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials, selfish oldsters scheme to rob young people of their vital essence, sacrificing them in the process. It’s basically “Social Security: The Movie.”

Starts as a serious examination of the two women's lives, but it descends into a mushy melodrama complete with schmaltzy music and dewy cinematography.

The promising satire then shifts to a typical thriller with bloody shoot-outs, druggings, tazings and a car dramatically plummeting off a cliff. That business wears thin fast. I Care a Lot is almost two separate films, and I much prefer the first one.

Strip away the alt-country soundtrack, though, and you've got a Bette Davis fallen-woman-redeemed picture from 1937.

It's a reasonably funny religious satire that takes potshots at easy targets but is quite watchable due to the participation of two Oscar winners and two Oscar nominees.

A predictable but pleasant kids movie that veers between old-fashioned girl-and-her-horse sentiment and "Ren & Stimpy"-style poo jokes.

Director and writer Riley Stearns’ mediocre comedy aims to be a roundhouse kick at traditional masculinity, but doesn’t manage to take it down in any deep or insightful way.

An action comedy for suburban women that's as toothless as a newborn, and nearly as stupid. It tries so hard to be cute that it practically drools on your shoulder.

Misleadingly billed as a Fallujah documentary, Occupation: Dreamland covers a six-week period when not much was happening there.

This pastiche of sitcomy episodes never gels into a plot.

Don't confuse the 18th-century Vene tian setting in Casanova with sophisti cation. The film's one-dimensional characters and lame one-liners make it a sitcom with petticoats.

District B13 looks great, but don't let those subtitles fool you. At heart, it's every bit as proudly dumb as its American counterparts.

Pleasant enough, with funny moments.

Unbroken, is a cinematic scrapbook, a collection of well-composed scenes practically cut and pasted from “Memphis Belle,” “Chariots of Fire,” “Life of Pi” and “The Bridge on the River Kwai.” Unlike those other films, though, Angelina Jolie’s second effort as a director is more a series of similar events than a story, and lacks an underlying message except that torture hurts.

Was Alma a masochist? Repressed? Neurotic? A pre-feminist? Don't look for insight here.

Brabbee, artistic director of the Nantucket Film Festival, is to be commended for her dedication to this project, but the film isn't hefty enough for a theatrical release. Public TV would be a better showcase.

Amusing without being particularly biting.

To put it as positively as possible, there's never a dull moment in this flick - and that's not something you can take for granted at this time of the year. At the same time, though, there's rarely a believable moment in the script.

Darkly funny (par for the course with Miike), visually stunning and full of references to other films.

Things move so swiftly and confusingly that there's little time to explore any of the people in depth. Less style and more substance is definitely called for.

Sometimes painfully sincere male weepie.

It's always enjoyable watching Depardieu and Deneuve, but they deserve better material than they've been given by Techine.

Too much of the film is given over to the soap opera of Elmer's life.

Wraps a sari around the kind of suffering-housewife picture that became a cliché 30 years ago.

The stalker-enabling menace of Facebook is largely abandoned by midpoint, and Brief Reunion won't even prompt most people to change their privacy settings.

Sporadically entertaining, occasionally quite funny.

Not entirely bereft of chuckles, though it misses one comic opportunity after another (the best jokes are in the trailer).

James Van Der Beek plays the same suspect over a 50-year period, sporting some of the worst old-age makeup in memory in the present-day sequences.

Writer-director Patrick Hasson whips up a surprising amount of fun.

You can't get much more perverse than asking Julia Roberts to wear fright wigs, do her own frumpy makeup and costumes -- and then shoot her scenes in eyeball-gougingly ugly digital video.

Robin Williams’ last live-action film, Boulevard, is a frustrating ending to a stellar career, a cramped and melancholy film about a cramped and melancholy man.

Hugh Jackman appears briefly as Sophia's Aussie boyfriend, and gets to perform a lively song-and-dance number. But for some strange reason, his name isn't in the credits.

Besson is unable to weave the comic scenes together with the serious gory ones, so both seem increasingly jarring and unbelievable.

Writer-director Todd Robinson is the victim of his own noble intentions, turning each and every moment into an ice bucket of sentiment.

Delivers an important message, and its underwater photography is breathtaking. But Stewart lessens the impact by focusing much too much on himself. Did he really have to go into detail about his own health problems? This should be a movie about sharks, not Stewart.

Since this low-grade comedy doesn't really even attempt to be funny, the purpose of the movie is to establish (or reinforce) a feeling of luxurious old-timey melancholy.

The film achieves a mild uptick in the final act, with a surprise change of heart and a race to save a little girl, but up till then it's thickly earnest -- a conquista-bore.