Delivers one of those classic movie moments in which two screen legends go toe to toe, both barrels metaphorically blazing.

Offensive and unwatchable.

Clarkson, the reigning queen of the indies, is simultaneously funny and heartbreaking, following up killer performances in "The Station Agent" and "All the Real Girls."

Soporific, shamelessly derivative and barely coherent by American standards.

This frigid and inaccessible period piece wears its glumness like a shroud.

An example of Hollywood schlock from the team of Joel Schumacher (director) and Jerry Bruckheimer (producer) that lacks the faintest trace of imagination or genuine feeling.

The movie is saved by its well-trained four-legged stars and the likable Liam Aiken ("Road to Perdition"), who plays 12-year-old loner Owen Baker.

Hilariously overblown, "Cruelty" fairly pops at the seams with the beloved eccentricity of Joel and Ethan Coen, from the fiendishly ludicrous scenarios and casually tossed off visual gags to the razor-sharp repartee.

An overstuffed menu from a master chef who's trying way too hard to please himself.

Based on a video game, far exceeds expectations -- in negative ways that inspire thoughts of less than zero stars.

It's a drawn-out look at politics that's largely devoid of the trademark humor that long ago got New Wave veteran Chabrol labeled the Gallic Hitchcock.

Can that achingly abstract thing called love be captured in a beaker or dissected like a frog splayed on a slab? That's the belabored premise of this dorky, clinically structured romance cooked up in the Sundance Institute's screenwriter and filmmaker labs.

The script is obvious and cliched and the action is more disgusting than frightening.

There's not much new in this Filipino film by longtime director Gil M. Portes. But it's so endearing that only a grouch wouldn't be charmed.

The best drag movie since "Vegas in Space." That's hardly a huge recommendation.

One of those rare recent films whose emotional power resonates long after you've left the theater.

The drivel they call "reality TV" pales in comparison with the gripping big-screen documentary Bus 174.

A good edit would have allowed the film's worthy, obviously heartfelt, message to shine.

Steamy and solidly entertaining.

One of the year's most consistently entertaining and ingratiating movies, building to an inspirational climax that's as rousing as it is predictable.

[McCarthy] marries beautifully spare compositions with comically abbreviated dialogue to craft something magnificent from a vaguely precious premise that could easily be the foundation for a parody.

The problem is that there's not a sympathetic character among the nasty, brutish males. And the women, except for a flashy cameo by a swimsuit-clad Paris Hilton, are given short shrift.

It's a credit to the actors, particularly the superb Campbell, that completely preposterous material can be made strangely touching.

Duplex, a shoddily constructed and alarmingly unfunny dark comedy that squanders the talents of Ben Stiller and Drew Barrymore, is one real-estate deal you should walk away from.

The Rock deserves better than The Rundown, a brisk, good- hearted but predictable and uninspired - not to mention bone-crunchingly violent - action comedy.

The emotional honesty of [Lane's] performance provides a foundation that supports this shaky and often unbelievable Italian-set hybrid of "Shirley Valentine" and "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House."

An unholy mess.

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

Who needs a big budget when you have a quirky script, an energetic cast and a soundtrack that features Union 13, the Blondes, Future Pigeon and Omega Man?

This contemplative drama manages to dodge mawkish potholes to emerge as a strangely life-affirming work.

Green's odd little movie is clever -- too clever, as it turns out.

The lazy story takes on a passion and urgency that peaks in an emotional finale.

I've seen Demonlover twice and still find the plot a challenge. I'd try again if I thought it would help.

This relentlessly mediocre romantic comedy is basically a pretty arthritic third-generation Xerox of "Annie Hall," with Jason Biggs and Christina Ricci in the old Allen and Keaton parts in a probably quixotic attempt to court the youth market.

Richard Jeffries' script tosses together bits of plot borrowed from such "bad things happen when you leave the city" classics as "Straw Dogs" and "Deliverance" without any awareness of how or why genre conventions work.

Diva du jour Beyoncé Knowles may be the draw, but the real star of The Fighting Temptations is the sensational gospel soundtrack.

Osment, playing a fatherless 14-year-old, has entered the sort of awkward adolescence that afflicts so many male child stars - and seems utterly intimidated by his esteemed co-stars.

Though it sometimes feels as if it's four hours long, Underworld has going for it an intriguing fantasy premise, an eventful plot and a look that is diverting, if finally a bit monotonous.

A typically well-acted, if ultimately minor, effort by John Sayles, the socially conscious indie icon who's unafraid to take on unfashionable subjects.

Thanks to the amateurish, spectacularly talent-free quality of its cinematography, direction, writing and acting, Emerald Cowboy is simply impossible to sit through.

Winterbottom's bold film, its gritty visuals offset by Dario Marianelli's lavish score, makes real the desperate lengths that refugees -- those running from poverty as well as dange -- will go to.

You don't have to be gay or Italian or live in Canada to enjoy Mambo Italiano, but a tolerance for ethnic mugging helps.

Part political thriller, part National Geographic travelogue, Tom Peosay's documentary is a distressing look at China's 50-year repression of the people of Tibet.

One of the year's most engaging films.

Anyone who regularly watches caper flicks will likely quickly figure out what's wrong with this picture, though the twist ending is likely to be a surprise for the less jaded.

It's the addition of Depp's corrupt CIA agent, Sands, that really makes this violent, over-the-top action film, with its maze-like plot, sing.

What could have been a biting dark comedy is, instead, uninspired and generic. The contrived, everybody's-happy finale just makes things worse.

It's impossible to conceive of this ruefully funny entertainment without Bill Murray, who is nothing less than brilliant.

It manages to be both kinetic and dream-like at the same time -- "Run Lola Run" by way of David Lynch.

If it weren't for the estrogen-fueled action scenes -- choreographed by director Cory Yuen with wit and style -- So Close would be as disposable as the shampoo ad it all too often resembles.

Heartbreaking.

Only marginally interesting.

The majority of Dickie Roberts winds up looking like a tame episode of the "Brady Bunch" -- spiked with Spade-esque crudity.

The screenplay is packed with so many hilariously bad lines (it's hard to believe that writer-director Helgeland won an Oscar for co-writing "L.A. Confidential") that the movie would be perfect material for a resurrected version of the TV spoof "Mystery Science Theater."

Ryan's heart is definitely in the right place and his film has good performances and flashes of talent. But, overall, it plays like the world's longest — over two hours -- after-school special.

Devotes most of its energy to its costumes and makeup, which are fabulous. But that and a tabloid-worthy star just aren't enough to revisit this sordid tale as a kind of twisted comedy.

A compelling look at a vexa tious question, Taking Sides is, at times, hamstrung by its own ambiguity.

Essentially an hour-long monologue, but this talking head is so engaging that you can't blame director Lech Kowalski's camera for not wanting to stray from the late Dee Dee Ramone's party-ravaged face.

There are a few good jolts - and a moderate amount of spurting blood - but things pretty much proceed exactly as you think they will.

The cast includes rappers Da Brat, Mos Def and MC Lyte. Their fans might get some pleasure from Civil Brand. Everybody else best stay away.

Just Brit filmmaker Shane Meadows having some fun with the conventions of the spaghetti western.

The Backyard will affect you. If you were depressed about the future of America before, you'll be doubly depressed after seeing this film. Pass the Prozac.

Funny and frothy sex comedy from Spain with a very appealing cast -- and mediocre musical numbers.

Doesn't always succeed -- the premise is hard to believe. Still, it's an unusual and interesting piece of filmmaking.

The result is a charming mix of Walter Mitty and "About Schmidt."

Dog Days has much in common with "Code Unknown" -- both dart among several characters who may occasionally cross paths.

What starts as a fairly lighthearted satire ends in a tiresome, ultra-violent shootout -- and the film pretty much throws away the possibilities of Cruz's gender-bending role.

Lurches so wildly and meaninglessly between genres and time frames that all it creates is motion sickness.

Earnest but not terribly original.

This black comedy is a small gem.

It's not uninteresting, but so much footage is given over to earnest discussion of sexual politics that the overall effect is like sitting through a semester's worth of transgender studies.

Directors Potelle and Rankin lack the skill to integrate the sometimes drastic shifts between comedy and drama - and the serious portions ultimately get short shrift, apparently at the behest of Miramax's marketing executives.

Paints a picture of a young man enamored of his own image. His enormous success turned the ever-cocky Gator egomaniacal -- and abusive.

The lamest in the recent run of comedies about uptight white people getting jiggy with it, would also be the most offensive -- if it weren't also the dullest.

Given the complete lack of chemistry between Chan and Forlani, their rather awkward lip-lock isn't worth $10 to see. Sadly, neither is anything else here.

Brain-dead variant of "Risky Business."

A documentary in which George relates their stories with great charm and understanding.

Despite its shock value, Thirteen rises above dysfunctional-family-drama cliches, thanks to the truthfulness of its script and the keen eye of a sympathetic director.

Despite oblique references to "Psycho" and "Children of the Corn," Freddy vs. Jason lacks the knowing wit needed to keep it afloat in an age when even the horror spoofs have been spoofed.

A creepy, depressing and leering "comedy" that's a virtual collection of "What were they thinking?" moments.

Davis, a hugely underrated actress..., is deadpan perfection as Joyce, wearing oversized glasses and a wig that makes her look like an older version of Thora Birch's character in "Ghost World."

Predictable and uninspired romantic drama fizzles like a wet squib.

Open Range could easily have lost 20 minutes in the editing room, but its very casual pacing and beautiful vistas - gorgeously photographed in British Columbia by James Munro - are a soothing alternative in a season of movies seemingly aimed at sufferers of attention deficit disorder.

If you stay awake, you'll certainly feel more than a little ground down after watching perhaps 15 minutes of skateboard footage padded out with nearly 90 minutes of strenuously unfunny toilet humor - all cheaply filmed on a budget that looks as if it would scarcely cover the catering bill for "Gigli."

Seems to exist solely to drive this observation home in the most heavy-handed way.

If you're looking for substance in a Hong Kong movie, stick with Wong Kar-wai ("In the Mood for Love"). But if brainless, predictable fun will do, check out Shaolin Soccer.

As transporting as its otherworldly title suggests.

Though not as witty or accomplished as you'd expect from its pedigree, "Le Divorce" provides welcome relief from the lame-brained trash Hollywood has foisted on the public this summer.

Can't decide if it's a martial-arts thriller or a sappy soap opera.

S.W.A.T. boasts the kernel of a good idea - but it gets buried in the chaff of half-baked plot threads, partly realized characters and unstructured pandemonium.

The story unfolds as slowly as does life in Cayeux. There's minimal dialogue and even less action.

Disney's best comedy in years.

Cocchio's film isn't as poetic as Gus Van Sant's hauntingly beautiful (far more expensive) "Elephant," but it has a power and immediacy that makes it much more worthwhile than "Home Room."

The cast is amazing -- two of the lead actresses are first-timers.

One part cabaret, one part travelogue, one part comic heist, one part romantic tearjerker -- and all pretty tedious.

Lacking a solid narrative beyond the worsening marital crisis, this humor-flecked domestic drama ends up relying heavily on directorial tricks such as splashes of magic realism, giving it a self-satisfied air that quickly becomes grating.

Some gut-busting moments, but for the most part the thrill is gone.

The problem with Gigli is that it is an inept attempt to do Elmore Leonard by Martin Brest, a filmmaker whose coarse sensibility makes him catastrophically unqualified to the task.