It's the best role in years for Leoni, but You Kill Me really belongs to Kingsley, whose character's deadpan reactions to his new environment are priceless. He really kills.

I might forgive the slow start if it weren't for the slow middle and slow end.

Squanders its big ideas in record time.

As familiar as the costumes and decoration are, the conflicts are unsettlingly vivid and strange.

A stunning drama from that remote former Soviet republic.

At age 76, Chabrol seems to be just going through the motions, but anyone who has helmed 70 films ("Les Bonnes Femmes" and "La Ceremonie," for example) is entitled to an off day. Look for him to dazzle us next time out.

Cam (based on the director’s real-life father) is so charming and gifted in various ways that it’s easy to enjoy this fanciful look at a bohemian mixed-race family.

Combines unpleasantness and stupidity to a degree that would be difficult to match unless you were stuck in bed with a case of the shingles while being forced to watch “The Ghost Whisperer."

Don Cheadle gives one of the best performances of his career as jazz legend Miles Davis in Miles Ahead, even if his debut as a director ends up being an unfocused disappointment.

But for all its 21st-century special effects, the characters, dialogue and values of Fury are straight out of the ’50s. The 1650s, maybe.

A real old-fashioned crowd-pleaser.

Clever, racially and sexually provocative variation on "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"

Arlyck spends more time following himself and his own lefty family than checking up on Sean.

The Young Victoria achieves a fine balance. I guess that's what you get when a film is produced by both Martin Scorsese and Sarah Ferguson.

Doesn't offer plot or an inquiry into the evil in men's hearts. It simply wallows in the filth and inhumanity that surround a father and his pre-adolescent son as they march across the shattered remains of this country.

Doesn't do enough with a righteous premise.

Heavy-handed message movies don’t come more harrumphing than “Miss Sloane,” a clunky dramatization of the gun-control argument liberals still don’t understand is being conducted solely among themselves.

One of our best actors, Turturro surpasses his past fine work as Alexander Luzhin.

It's mostly a political thriller, contingent on a love story. It's kind of noirish, subtly humorous and intermittently confusing.

Vastly more explicit (be warned) and intelligent (than "Angel Eyes"). It also leads to much darker - and more interesting - places.

Watching three frames at once is disconcerting at first, but eventually the experience gives the film a high-tech boost.

Much time is spent on inter-museum wrangling, and the personalities aren’t vivid enough (as they were in “The New Rijksmuseum”) to build tension. The interest lies in the close look at the strange vision of this great artist.

The dimly lit, exquisitely composed cinematography, by Guillermo Nieto, adds to the draw of this highly recommended movie.

A thorough but highly entertaining documentary details the making of the notorious 1972 film, the series of legal battles that helped make it immensely popular and the flick's considerable cultural legacy.

The plot of the indie feature Room is, shall we say, sketchy. But that's a minor annoyance thanks to a gutsy performance by Cyndi Williams and vibrating cinematography by P.J. Raval.

Wood, like fellow mega-franchise star Daniel Radcliffe, has found a comfy home in indie films. And he has the perfect presence for this one, in particular.

The Road to Guantanamo is a missed opportunity. This is a subject that deserves a more thoughtful documentary or docudrama, not a hastily thrown together amalgam of the two.

Lenny this is not. Still, it's nice to know that the son of a lawyer and a microbiologist can get into Harvard and make something of himself.

Veteran character actor Dennis Farina gives one of the best performances of the year in a rare lead part as an aging, down-on-his luck small-time hood in The Last Rites of Joe May.

It has a dogged all-night charm and a sense of who its audience is.

The film never flags. To find a smarter bug-man saga, you’d have to go back to “The Metamorphosis.” I was far from sold on insect superheroes, but now I say: Bring on Cockroach Chick.

Hopefully Jennifer Lawrence will actually be given something worthwhile to do next time around. That would actually be worth paying to see.

It’s substantial food for thought, but too scattered for a two-hour running time.

Davidson expertly plays the role like he’s playing . . . well, Pete Davidson, which is how I imagine his career will go.

The tragic victims in "City of God" are played by actors while those in La Sierra are flesh-and-blood real.

Documents the Nixon administration's failed, almost comically inept attempt to deport the most political of The Beatles and his wife, Yoko Ono. Given the latter's cooperation with the filmmakers, it comes as no surprise the Lennons come off as saints.

Nothing But the Truth is like listening to the fourth-best debater in middle school present a term paper called "Politics, Power and the Media."

The utopia-via-laboratory aspects of “Vol. 3” resemble “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan” — only it’s the Wrath of Gunn. This chilling paperweight clocks in at 2 hours and 30 minutes, making it the fourth longest Marvel film so far. And it’s wildly self-indulgent.

Mock didn't find room for any of the many critics who accuse Kushner of being an anti-Zionist - and the film unfortunately ends in 2004, just before its subject began working on his controversial script for Steven Spielberg's "Munich."

Like mother, like daughter best sums up Or (My Treasure), a raw drama.

Lee hasn't given an interview in 45 years, and even her 99-year-old sister (still practicing as a lawyer) only hazards a guess in Mary Murphy's old-school documentary: Her younger sister had nothing to prove, and nowhere to go but down after her astonishing debut novel.

Whistle is the feature debut of director-writer Florin Serban, who studied at Columbia University and lists among his influences Robert Bresson, Pedro Almodovar, Bruno Dumont and Ken Loach.

Camandule gives a strong performance as the lovesick guard, but Svarcas gets little chance to show her skills. There's minimal dialogue and camera movement -- but lots of charm.

A bittersweet confection that few holiday filmgoers will be able to resist, thanks to melt-in-your-mouth performances by Juliette Binoche, Alfred Molina and Judi Dench.

Strident, unrepentantly one-sided but often entertaining.

You know those one-joke "Saturday Night Live" sketches that start to age after six minutes? Blades of Glory is one joke that lasts 93 minutes, costs $11 and could involve sitting next to a guy who retells the movie into his cellphone.

Gentle, tender and very French, The Hedgehog is cinematic poetry -- too bad about that prosaic plotting.

It's basically a Middle Eastern version of "The Princess Bride" with an assisted-suicide subplot.

State of Play is bordered by the states of absurdity and cliché.

Overall We Have a Pope should prove a crowd-pleaser. Sacred music by the great Estonian composer is a plus.

Frequently hilarious, occasionally sweet and often graphically violent, Pineapple Express may not be the greatest stoner movie ever made, but it will do perfectly well until we get another hit of Harold and Kumar.

The crowd-pleasing St. Vincent provides Murray with his first comic vehicle in years. It’s a tour de force and a cause for major celebration.

Has relevance in the world as we now know it.

There is hardly a moment during this overlong, stunningly smug exercise in moral self-satisfaction when you actually care about a character, real or invented.

Beautifully photographed by Dean Semler, Appaloosa is the best Western since "Open Range" and shows there's still life in this most unfashionable of genres.

The script, narrated by Queen Latifah, is so embarrassingly dorky (it was co-written by Kristin Gore) that it's like Fred Rogers gone hip-hop.

Julian Fellowes would have been far better off writing another relaxed Christmas special to satisfy fans.

Fascinatingly, many of the interviewees disagree vehemently about Holmes' personality: some of his co-stars and colleagues found him repellently abusive and selfish.

Spectacular special effects and sets.

Most troubling is just how easy it is to sell nuclear secrets with the help of large corporations and the acquiescence of governments.

Ultimately, though, the lively whirl of debauched, drug-fueled parties and toffee-nosed exchanges between heiresses and aristocrats fails to mask the essential hollowness of the narrative.

Sometimes teeters on the verge of going completely over the top, but it's mostly saved by its own self-awareness.

The flick brings two hours of great big sloppy buck-wild laughs by morphing into a cross between "Meet the Parents" and "Some Like It Hot."

Boasts dynamic performances by the two leads, as well as tight directing (a lot happens in just 82 minutes) and eye-pleasing cinematography (by Alain Marcoen, who also lenses for Belgium's acclaimed Dardenne brothers).

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

DiCaprio and Connelly give off the sexual tension of pickled herring.

Swank's character, Erin Gruwell, is a real educator who, in the years following the Rodney King riots, coaxed her students into writing about their bullet-riddled lives.

Starts out as a hilarious take on cop-movie cliches, then turns into Will Ferrell's own "Capitalism: A Love Story."

As much fun as it is, this all-star tribute is awfully one-note, never questioning Gordon’s seemingly casual habit of befriending only the ultra-famous.

Kelly & Cal is at its best when focused on Lewis and Weston.

Is it an essential continuation of the story of Russell Crowe’s fallen fighter Maximus? Eh, not really. A likable diversion, the film is not as epic or weighty as its acclaimed predecessor.

Irresistibly warm and surprisingly realistic.

Though the filmmaking is not terribly exciting, Fela’s life and music are.

The story is nothing if not uplifting, but it unfolds in a conventional, uninspired documentary style better suited to the small screen, where it soon will reside. Wait.

Butler’s pretty bad — not horrible — but the movie itself is quite watchable, if a lot bleaker than your average disaster flick.

This is the kind of movie that gives art-house movies a bad name. Seeing as it’s about lobotomies in the 1950s, it is also ripe for “ice-pick- through-the-eye” jokes about the pain of watching it. But I would never stoop so low.

The failed attempt at cleverness in Lanthimos’ movie is that nobody is actually kind here; they are inordinately cruel. There’s nothing wrong with that — so is Richard III — but these exploits are not particularly entertaining or profound, only random and repetitive.

My main beef is with Spielberg’s choice to leave out his own work, both as producer and director: “I didn’t corner the ’80s market,” he told Entertainment Weekly. But yeah, he kind of did.

Proof will put a lot of viewers right back where they left off in 12th-grade calculus: asleep.

The ruefully funny Jack Goes Boating, which, refreshingly, takes a generous view of its flawed characters, is a must for us many Hoffman fans.

Keough is riveting as the vulnerable Grace.

A scrapbook of bits from better Allen films that builds up to a hearty shrug.

Overall, though, this new Peter Pan does really soar.

As in genuine porn, most of the acting (except for Skarsgard, who deliberately tries to be funny and sometimes succeeds) is as flat and uninteresting as the script — even when the older Joe narrates a montage of flaccid penises.

24-karat stuff, even if it has a soul of tin. With the voices of Ewan McGregor, Robin Williams and Mel Brooks, Robots is a giddy erector-set update of "Toy Story" with a splash of "The Wizard of Oz."

The most engaging is straight-shooting Erin Brockovich (whom you'll remember from that Julia Roberts pic), still helping average Joes fight uphill battles against corporate toxin-dumping.

It's only because the performances are so vividly entertaining -- Mandvi and Puri are particularly good -- and the painstakingly reconstructed locations so lovely that the saggier sequences are tolerable.

Neither convincing nor remotely dramatic.

The meta jokes come thick and fast - some clunk, but there's no time to mourn - and the references are far from limited to the Warner Bros. world (at one point, Bugs exclaims, "Whaddya know - I found Nemo!").

Sentimental and predictable? Sure, but The Butterfly is so well-meaning and the wide-eyed Bouanich is so sweet and lovable only a Scrooge would dare complain.

It's an intriguing setup, filled with colorful characters, lots of humor and well-developed scenes.

Takes a bit of "Swingers" and a bit of "Manhattan" to create a slacktacular vision of uncertain youth in today's L.A.

Lymelife, set amid marital decay and teen frustration, isn't quite the "American Beauty" of the 516 area code, but it'll do.

Mitchell's adventurous, big- hearted, pansexual mosaic of New Yorkers looking for love and orgasms (not necessarily in that order), is a rare example of a nonporn film that doesn't exploit graphic sex as a gimmick.

Forsaken in a cruel wilderness, a man looks to God and pleads for help. Receiving no answer, he says, "F- -k, I'll do it myself."

If I wanted to spend $10.75 making myself sick, I'd buy a bottle of cheap tequila.

The best Parisian action movie of the week is District 13: Ultimatum, a serviceable thriller with a lefty message.

You would be hard-pressed to use the word "accessible" to describe Film Socialisme, and that's exactly the way the master wants it.