Lopez, appearing in her first rom-com since “Monster-in-Law” five years ago, is still a likable screen presence who throws herself into the movie’s slapstick sequences with unwarranted enthusiasm.

The Good, the Bad, the Weird may owe a lot to other films, but it is always fresh and never boring.

Never rises much above yawn-worthy.

Far from perfect, but it holds your interest as a character study because of strong performances by Daniels and Stone.

The main attraction is little-seen archival footage going back 50 years, including scenes from the 1960s "Parades and Changes," with artful nudity that was praised in Europe but brought threats of arrest in New York.

The movie could -- should -- be a symphony, and it frequently makes excellent use of spare classical music. When Brosnan pipes up, he is as welcome as a car alarm.

A brutally funny deconstruction, a hybrid of “Watchmen” and “Superbad” filtered through John Woo. It’s a boisterously original piece of entertainment . . . that isn’t for everyone. Note the rating, which should be triple-R, as in Really, Remarkably R.

Few documentaries have covered such an important matter so convincingly and with such clarity. When it comes to public education, we are all New Jerseyans.

This long and overly genteel adaptation of Peter Cameron's 2002 novel never quite comes to a boil.

It's because of a superior cast that this version of "Death at a Funeral" is the rare comedy remake that's funnier than the original, however slightly. Personally, though, I'm not sure it was worth the effort.

It's mainly about a supremely annoying French-born LA clothier who became a hugely successful artist without pausing to consider his utter lack of originality or talent.

The story quietly builds to a rueful and fraught climax in which Campbell Scott does his usual exceptional work

Slick as a pig and reeking of phony sympathy for recession-wracked consumers, The Joneses is a black comedy about stealth marketing made by a filmmaker who's evidently much too close to the subject to bite the hand that feeds him.

The subject may be serious, but Ghobadi's approach is mostly light and humorous, at least until the final scenes. Hamed Behdad is especially funny as a streetwise promoter who fast-talks his way out of jail and 80 lashes.

The film's flaws probably won't bother less jaded kids one whit.

A nearly perfect love story/murder mystery that unfortunately falters at the end.

The film tastefully handles the sensitive subject, but it lacks the bite that a Michael Moore would have provided.

The well-acted, pleasantly lensed drama doesn't recall Hollywood's generic approach to fragile couples, and that's just fine with me.

Basically a PG-13 version of “After Hours,” with more than a bit of “The Out-of-Towners” thrown in.

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.

Utterly predictable and full of trite dialogue.

The Edgertons pile on the plot twists a bit thick, but the director steadily ratchets up the tension until a climactic shootout.

A sometimes insightful, sometimes absurdly devotional but steadily engaging film.

There isn't anything especially wrong with Who Do You Love but there's nothing here that cries out to be seen, either. Read more: http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/movies/who_do_you_love_VZgyGvsv0ruc9teHrzQIlJ#ixzz0kcaj8Mwl

You don't have to have ever seen any of their movies to enjoy It Came From Kuchar, directed by one of George's former students, Jennifer M. Kroot. But you'll probably want to catch up with their work afterward.

The acting is super -- these guys know how to be sweet and disgusting -- and the story provides its share of laughs. But after a while, the one-note movie, directed by Felix van Groeningen, grows tiresome.

Their conversation is so insipid that watching this movie is no more interesting than talking to any random New York couple about what makes them tick.

Though quite watchable thanks to its cast, the overly ambitious Don McKay ends up as confused as its main female character.

The film is well-constructed, as one would expect from Gondry, but it offers little reason for anyone outside the family circle to care about dear old Tante Suzette.

Is nothing sacred? In the schizophrenic war epic The War lords, Jet Li, the hunky action hero, cries -- no, make that sobs -- several times. What will his legion of young male fans think?

A roaring old-school action adventure for kids, with as many mythical beasts as a year at Hogwarts and a healthy dose of smiting without the crazed bloodlust of “300.”

It's the worst of both worlds as Disney cash cow Miley Cyrus makes the most dubious "dramatic" debut of any singer since Britney Spears.

The documentary does a superlative job of examining the half-century dispute over Chinese rule of mountainous Tibet.

Bluebeard revisits themes often found in Breillat's films -- sibling rivalry, pedophilia, gender conflict -- but it remains fresh and new.

A raunchy, endearing and often hilarious cross between “Back to the Future” and Reagan-era cheese-fests such as “Hot Dog: The Movie.”

A Skinemax movie cloaked in art-house fancy dress, the sex thriller Chloe might have worked better as an out-and-out popcorn flick starring, say, Jennifer Lopez.

It would have been nice to learn as much about Sar the man as about Sar the dancer.

Well worth seeing for its acting and its tempting cinematography. Don't be surprised if you find yourself wanting to book a vacation in Cobh.

Quite a slog, with most of the acting strictly amateurish save the veteran Ed Lauter as a fish and game inspector.

You could say the 3-D animated kidpic How To Train Your Dragon is "Avatar" for simpletons. But that title is already taken, by "Avatar."

A working-class hero of a film.

Doesn't have as much behind-the-scenes juice as you'd hope.

Someday, The Bounty Hunter and last month’s “Cop Out” will be featured in a cable movie double bill as the two worst 1988 films of 2010.

Repo Men is a rare film where Toronto plays itself. It's also the first I've ever seen where a typewriter is used as a lethal weapon.

For me, the movie's high point comes when Tony auditions for a role in a Martin Scorsese movie. Tony learns not to try so hard -- a lesson that Garcia also seems to have absorbed from City Island.

An above-average and sometimes surprising kid movie.

The result is a finely plotted, stylishly photographed and brilliantly acted whodunit that clocks in at 2 1/2 hours but never seems long.

To really pull off Greenberg would require a lead performance from a master actor. The actor it stars is . . . Ben Stiller.

Astonishingly sharp and stunningly beautiful images of galaxies as far as 100 billion light-years away.

An entertaining but routine rock flick.

Daniele Cipri's highly stylized lensing and Carlo Crivelli's bold score add to the movie's flamboyant aura. But then, the story of a bombastic dictator deserves a bombastic telling.

Mother is yet another winner by Bong, one of Asia's most talented directors.

Mixes fact and speculation in a way that's already raised the ire of some on the right as well as on the left.

Those who can hang on through the mumblecore-ish narrative languor of the nicely photographed The Exploding Girl will savor a very talented actress' sensitive portrait of youthful awkwardness.

Scenes that should be grotesquely funny deliver only chuckles rather than a big payoff.

A cringeworthy, unfunny example of a culture-clash romantic comedy.

The dullness of this writing is more than matched by the dull look achieved by director Allen Coulter, who appears to have shot the film through a piece of yard-sale Tupperware.

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.

Much of this footage might have been illuminating, even fascinating, in 2003. But seven years on, it's ancient history lacking insight, hindsight or a fresh take.

One way to judge a filmmaker is by the way he or she directs children. Take Tze Chun and his impressive first feature, Children of Invention.

Depp's nonsense-spouting Mad Hatter, decked out in a red fright wig and possibly more makeup than Michael Jackson, is an unlikely resistance leader.

At one sip per cuss word, though, few viewers will still be conscious for the ending, in which the three cops finally come to the same place, each for an entirely different but equally ridiculous reason.

Quite unlike anything I've ever seen before.

Having Damon Wayans in the cast might attract viewers to Harlem Aria, but they're bound to be disappointed by the amateurish drama.

Another Harlan work, "Kolberg" (1945), inspired the film within the film in "Inglourious Basterds."

Repeatedly shoots for laughs -- but ends up mostly firing blanks.

Even for a horror movie, The Crazies is a bore, and we're talking about the most boring genre this side of dysfunctional-family indie drama.

The Yellow Handkerchief tells a timeless fable, and tells it extremely well.

Scorsese has great fun with a story that in the final analysis does not really demand to be taken any more seriously as history than "Inglourious Basterds."

Rolls out stiff clichés to tell a familiar story of racial injustice in the South.

Although the movie is reasonably suspenseful for a while and has a few witty moments (of a first draft, the ghost says, "All the words are there. They're just in the wrong order"), it rings false.

Not just a shabby "Wall Street" knockoff clogged with dull, jargon-spewing trading-desk scenes that fail to advance the plot in any way. It's also a nondescript "Sex and the City" retread.

Rip Torn's recent real-life misadven tures are slightly echoed in Happy Tears, a moderately diverting black comedy in which he plays (what else?) a crazy old coot, to perfection.

On the plus side, Derek McKane's moody camerawork makes Gotham look grand. Too bad it's wasted on The Last New Yorker.

My only question: Why does Kleine -- who's married to Andre Gregory of "My Dinner With Andre" fame -- think that anybody outside her family gives a damn?

It'll be a real miracle if anyone manages to stay awake throughout this extravagantly dull film.

As a spooky midnight movie, The Wolfman is worth curling up with.

Played by Logan Lerman -- the Zac Efron look-alike who was young George Hamilton in "My One and Only" -- Percy is a Manhattan high-schooler who learns he is a demigod.

Less funny or romantic than your average colonoscopy, this cringe-inducing bore provides dubious employment for four Oscar winners, two nominees and a raft of TV performers.

A very average, ordinary film that goes haywire.

October Country doesn't really have a point, or a story, but it's an almost unbearably vivid portrait of four generations in a single working-class family.

The Italian film industry must be in sad shape when its latest import to the US is a tired bit of trash from 1997, To Die for Tano.

Dear John is the sort of movie that gives tearjerkers a bad name.

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

John Travolta's From Paris With Love assassin/ superagent Charlie Wax is the master of whatever the opposite of wisecracking is. Fooljoshing? Lametalking? Flatlining?

Relies far too much on an overdose of gore and a pack of hungry wolves to deliver its chills.

The actors are charmingly low-key, and the lensing, by Jorgen Johansson, adds to the offbeat aura. Whatever you do, don't miss the booze-guzzling showdown.

Quiet, sober and tense, the movie makes some interesting points -- contrasting the frenzied hookups of the two men with the butcher's rote, dismal lovemaking with his wife as their bodies are carefully hidden under sheets -- but it lacks the emotional firepower of "Brokeback Mountain."

The complexity might require a second viewing, but there is compensation in the realistic acting by a cast of non-pros and the eye-grabbing, hand-held lensing by Boaz Yehonatan Yacov.

Perhaps the best compliment I can pay to his work in Edge of Darkness is that I wouldn't particularly want to see this movie with grumpy Harrison Ford starring instead. Welcome back, Mel.

Even by the extremely low standards of the genre, When in Rome gets failing marks for chemistry, credibility and even coherence.

At some two hours, the film is 30 minutes too long. Cutting out the melodrama and sticking with the daring-do is the answer.

The director-producer, Nicole Opper, has known Avery's Brooklyn family for years, which no doubt accounts for the film's intimacy.

Buscemi is appealing as always, but the movie, is only sporadically funny.

Cisneros is an appealing actor, but he and Falling Awake get buried under a welter of clichés.

The Israeli feature For My Father is a rarity indeed: A sweet, sentimental movie about a suicide bomber.

What the Charles Darwin biopic Creation mainly creates is a do-over for Paul Bettany: This time he gets to have a beautiful mind.

Basically “Lorenzo’s Oil” without the earlier film’s visual flair.