Suggestion: When making a film called Run Fat Boy Run, how about hiring a fat boy?

A supernatural take on "Death Wish" meets "Faust," Heartless is an uneasy mixture of B-movie shocks, social commentary and sentimentality that shows a potent imagination at work.

Should entertain less jaded youngsters.

It’s got something for everybody — toplessness, threesomes, dildos, ball gags, S&M and, of course, art-world satire.

Before the slightly surreal (self-consciously so) climax, there are some fine set pieces, including a disastrous dinner party that amply showcases Rivette's wonderfully light directorial touch.

Despite its treacly sentimentality, predictability and gutless evasiveness about the power of the church in 1950s Ireland, Evelyn manages to be an enjoyable piece of family entertainment.

an overstuffed, overlong epic with a tongue-in-cheek approach.

All-too-familiar and schmaltzy territory for both coming-of-age films and movies with elderly actors.

Newcomer Akihiko Shiota shows talent as a director, but he allows Sasayaki to go on too long.

This engaging, funny documentary catches up with Beltracchi as he and his wife are serving time in an “open” prison in Europe.

There's a geyser of ambition in the visually stunning The Fountain, but the story of a thousand-year quest for the Fountain of Youth eventually trickles out.

May have a storyline as generic as its title, but in the explosive Pacino and the smoldering Farrell (who nearly stole "Minority Report" from Tom Cruise), it has a pair of stars who are not as easily dismissed.

Far from a touchdown, but you gotta give points to any movie where a character describes its climactic game as a "muddy snoozefest."

For a kiddie adventure, the movie, based on the Jeanne DuPrau book, has a pleasingly moody, eerie quality.

You could do worse for a date movie than Gurinder Chadha's campy, exuberant cross-cultural take on Austen's much-filmed 1812 novel.

Winocour skillfully films Augustine being exhibited for other doctors in several disturbingly erotic scenes, but elsewhere Soko’s stolid, one-note demeanor takes a toll. The script, which gives Augustine no background and mostly shows her either being “treated” or having an episode, doesn’t help.

A crowd-pleasing comedy that isn't going to win any awards for originality.

A good-looking, if imperfectly plotted, coming-of-age feature -- that doesn't quite manage to sidestep the clichéd sport-as-metaphor-for-life trap.

By far the film's most interesting subject is the king's eldest daughter, 18-year-old Princess Sikhanyiso, who likes to be known as Pashu. She's a self-styled rapper who goes to a Catholic college in California and acts like the spoiled rich kid that she is.

So eager to please, it practically licks you in the face.

A lovely, intelligent film from Spain about recognizable human beings with real-life problems.

Energetic, often very funny comedy filled with sharp, vivid performances by a terrific ensemble cast.

Falters when it gets involved with supernatural gobbledygook.

A film that parents can confidently and with pleasure take their little ones to see - but which is not quite a good movie.

The film's earthy frankness is refreshing.

Wilde's masterpiece, The Importance of Being Earnest, may be the best play of the 19th century. It's so good that its relentless, polished wit can withstand not only inept school productions, but even Oliver Parker's movie adaptation.

"Love, Actually" meets "Trainspotting" in Intermission, an edgy Irish romantic comedy that deftly juggles a dozen interconnected story lines.

The season's first genuine guilty pleasure.

Not as elaborate or entertaining as Anderson's last feature, "Transsiberian," but it's got enough shocks for an entirely respectable addition to the post-apocalyptic genre.

As Coach Haskins would say, it wins because it sticks to the fundamentals.

The dialogue isn't ridiculous, and sometimes it's witty: A cynical cop (Donnie Wahlberg) doesn't buy Jamie's theory that the doll had something to do with the murder: "The mystery toy department is down the hall. This is the homicide department."

Shailene Woodley, already a subtle and rangy actress, easily carries the film as Hazel.

Undercut by funereal pacing and an ending that seems more than a little contrived.

Smooth as fresh asphalt, the film makes us pine for a pothole or two.

On the one hand, Black Book has the artiness of subtitles, the dramatic weight of history, and the desperate heroics of Jews hiding from Nazis. On the other hand, it has Paul Verhoeven.

Any movie that finds a plausible reason to give Lindsay Lohan a nun's habit and a machine gun is worth your attention.

Lifelines is a tiny movie, made for $385,000, but it strikes enough strange chords to make it resonate.

There are no surprises, but for once there’s a set of artsy millennial characters who feel like real humans, and Berlin looks great.

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

Excellent performances redeem Jordan Melamed's gritty teenage version of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."

Natalie Portman is captivating as a damaged electro-pop star known as Celeste in Vox Lux, a flawed, flashy drama from actor/director Brady Corbet (“The Childhood of a Leader”).

Good grindhouse fun until a last act that's like a meeting of a psychoanalysts' convention.

A valuable reminder that for nearly three decades, basketball was dominated by Jewish players - and coaches who found the sport an ideal vehicle for assimilation in the United States.

What Werewolves Within aims to be is a Knives Out of the horror genre, with a wacky ensemble having a blast while they play enormous characters and follow clues. They do, and their antics are enjoyable for the most part. However, unlike the Daniel Craig mystery film, Werewolves can sometimes be overly spastic and annoying.

Giamatti tries very hard to put over Cold Souls -- some of his reaction shots are priceless -- but it's going to leave some people, well, cold.

Now that this technically impressive - but seriously flawed and self-referential - remake is finally in theaters to swell the July 4 weekend box office, conversation will doubtless shift to the lamest ending yet to a Steven Spielberg movie.

The film looks back at “gay voice” throughout popular culture, starting with films of the 1930s and with TV icon Paul Lynde; it also plays a disheartening clip of a young Louis CK bellowing “f - - - - t!” in a routine.

While clearly on the side of the protesters, the filmmakers are still determined to explain every legal detail, and at times matters become bogged down in endless televised journalists and snappish legislators.

A game and often quite funny attempt with an expert cast.

A flawed drama offering a rare look at the Catholic Church's canonization process.

It takes a while to get used to the fractured narrative, but once done it is easy to put your mind on autopilot and go with the offbeat characters and events.

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

Although the payoff is creepy, it takes a little too long to arrive -- and when it does, it's about as worn-out as the movie's title.

It's ultimately a shallow effort.

They may not have made another "Back to the Future," but to their credit, the makers of Clockstoppers don't patronize or underestimate their pre-teen audience nearly as much as has become customary.

Just when things should be getting exciting and complex, they become repetitive and predictable. Subtext becomes hint becomes statement becomes declaration. For once, Pinter is a little too easy to understand.

China's public image suffers another blow with Up the Yangtze, a documentary by Chinese-Canadian Yung Chang.

It's a chaste "Austin Powers," a less ridiculous "Casino Royale," a more subtle "Spy Hard" — in other words, yet another James Bond parody.

Watching “The Iron Claw” can feel like getting slammed with a metal folding chair over and over again. So bludgeoning are the true and tragic circumstances that befell the famous Von Erich wresting family during the 1980s and ’90s, which director Sean Durkin’s film depicts.

Goes down smoothly.

Unfortunately, Albert is so good at being unobtrusive, he nearly disappears from his own story, making it hard for us to get invested in it.

Unlike American movies about challenging yourself, it's all played in a minor key.

Final Destination 5, which, despite its lowbrow story, turns out to be one of the fastest-moving films of the year, is a suspenseful and macabre exercise in dread for the absurdly cosseted.

Cinematographer Mohammad Davudi's nighttime shots of jammed Tehran highways help convey the society's dehumanization. Scenes of a vast forest outside the city, where Ali releases tension by hunting, are powerful in their own, sparse way.

Mostly, though, it all ends up feeling like a lost, minor episode of “The X-Files:” A little scary, a little silly and catnip for those who want to believe.

An entertaining but routine rock flick.

Still worth watching for Dong Jie's performance -- and for the way it documents a culture in the throes of rapid change.

This loopy absurdist comedy is the final work of Andrzej Zulawski, the famed Polish filmmaker who died in February.

A thoughtful, provocative film that understandably ruffled a few feathers in its native Italy -- the portrayal of the church is far less than beatific.

Has a few too many coincidences and tends to be sugary, but it has an important precautionary message in this age of terror.

Filming in gritty, black-and-white 16mm, Riker gets terrifically natural, often moving performances from his mostly non-professional cast.

First-time writer-director Andy Muschietti, an Argentine discovered by Guillermo del Toro, relies too much, especially in the early going, on horror clichés (sudden loud noises and jagged blasts of music), but he does make the tension hum.

Field, as usual, goes all-out; the film may be a comedy, but she attains a few moments of real heartbreak.

Rio 2 is not what I would call Amazon prime, but it’s got enough silly songs and daffy critters to keep the little ones happy.

The low-budget "Master" lacks the polish and romance that made "Crouching Tiger" so popular. But for old-fashioned raw energy, it's tough to beat.

A lot of preaching to the converted.

If nothing else, the mere sight of two popes drinking brews and watching a soccer game together is one of the more surreal things you’ll see at the movies this year.

But even if The Cat's Meow is unsubtle and overlong, in its jaundiced way it convincingly captures a fascinating period in Hollywood history.

A weird hybrid of cloning thriller and futuristic love story, with hints of "The Godfather" and "Ice Castles" - and it wears its disjointed nature like a badge of honor.

There’s such a genuine sweetness to Johnson you can’t help digging the shtick.

Graham is funny and adorable in this endearing little romantic comedy.

So lovingly and perceptively filmed that you can almost taste the desiccated air.

Less an updated version of the Dostoevsky novel than an unusually somber Hollywood teen love story.

It has a pleasing smallness -- it's cinematic chamber music -- that almost makes you overlook its inability to really explain its subject.

It actually works as a sometimes funny, occasionally scandalous, but mostly involving narrative.

Dolan embraces passion and melodrama to a refreshing degree, and Dorval and Clément are terrific. But Mommy can be exhausting; the structure and plot rhythms are all over everywhere. A montage to “Wonderwall” (every last note of it) seems to sum up the movie; too much, but exhilarating all the same.

While the premise (inspired by the true story of tune-challenged American socialite Florence Foster Jenkins) could be as cruel as “Carrie,” Frot’s would-be diva is achingly sympathetic.

Honorable, worthy and windy, Fences is essentially a PBS episode of “Great Performances” that is inflated for the big screen without ever quite belonging there.

In monotonous narration, Rosette rants that the vendors' right to free speech should allow them to obstruct sidewalks, but the portrait of his subculture is so vaguely rendered, it will likely put audiences to sleep rather than change minds.

It feels less predictable and derivative than it is, thanks to Gus Van Sant's deft direction and two fine central performances.

Arch, wry and dry, with its exquisite wallpaper and impeccably blocked fedoras, Married Life is bracingly malicious noir for a while, a sort of gray-flannel-suit take on the Coen brothers' "Blood Simple." Every character seems morally capable of anything.

Quirky and good-natured, it makes the most of an unknown but able and refreshingly international cast. And for a low-budget indie, it looks remarkably good and moves along with real snap.

In the end, the movie (executive produced by the late Wes Craven) degenerates into a routine, though ably constructed, horror flick.

There are two things that make the flawed Mapplethorpe worth a watch: Matt Smith’s dedicated performance, and a reverent inclusion of so much of the artist’s work.

Gives a harrowingly accurate portrait of the indignities sometimes suffered by hospitalized patients - and the sacrifices their families make.

This is ultimately a sunny movie full of likable characters.

Maybe it's because I share Burton"s twisted affection for the 1970s, but for all its shortcomings, I'd sooner watch a sequel to Dark Shadows than another installment of the bloated "Pirates of the Caribbean" saga any day.

A languid but refreshingly real depiction of female adolescence.