On the M. Night Shyamalan scale of stupid endings, The Prestige isn't as bad as "The Village" but it's comparable to "Unbreakable."

Depicts the bleak suburban milieu in a manner that avoids exploitation.

A lark for anyone who's willing to check their brains at the concession stand for 100 minutes.

Genre fans will definitely get off on I Sell the Dead, but outsiders might be less enthusiastic.

It is a better option than the third "Santa Clause."

Willis is at his relaxed best this time.

Second films in trilogies are often the toughest to pull off. Maybe Green’s final chapter, Halloween Ends, will redeem what he’s done here, which ultimately feels like very little progress at all.

Dickens was a sentimentalist, but even his happy endings are more nuanced than Polanski's brutal anti-sentimentalism.

An uneasy mix of Richard Linklater and Abbott and Costello, Prince Avalanche is an oddment, but one that brings some small, peculiar pleasures.

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.

A boldly original undertaking: It's the first movie ever to come up with the idea of remaking "The Truman Show."

When the world gets too big and scary, the Hundred Acre Wood remains a clearly delineated comfort zone.

A Most Violent Year is a small picture, but each brushstroke is laden with detail and craftsmanship.

But while the belly laughs are few, there are numerous chuckles and it's quite watchable, thanks to solid performances by Damon (who plays it mostly straight in a rare comic role) and Kinnear.

A messy -- but uproarious, timely and provocative -- farce.

On one hand, third installment is series of hilarious meditations on trials of being middle-aged woman, co-written by feminist goddess Emma Thompson, who gives self all best lines as deadpan OB-GYN.

The final scenes, when Mancini meets Kim’s son, have the awkward feel of an “Oprah” episode, with the editing and music suggesting a catharsis that isn’t always backed up by what’s on-screen.

Melding a morality play with a glossy soap, Italy’s Human Capital is a fairly successful balance of entertainment and ideas.

Wildly uneven, but contains moments that are right up there with "The Player."

The satire’s so meta that its whiny protagonists threaten to eclipse the joke.

It’s sprightly, funny and at times piercingly sad.

While Campillo does graceful work — the way he draws focus in a scene is a pleasure — the script drags and the pseudo-romance is hard to believe, especially when one plot point concerns Daniel asking for a bulk-purchase sex rate. Eastern Boys never quite fulfills the promise of those first few minutes.

The film is soft and sticky, but it deserves a (small) audience. If you're in that peculiar kind of blue mood where you'd like to be just a bit bluer, Dear Frankie might be the right choice.

The dialogue, at best serviceable, becomes completely superfluous.

Safe in Hell doesn’t offer anything extraordinary in the way of skin or innuendo, but it’s chockablock with the kind of situations and characters that would be verboten on screen for nearly three decades commencing in mid-1934.

Two stars for adults -- 3 stars for kids. The under-5 set should take to The Country Bears like bears to honey - even if anyone much older will find this broad-as-a-barn-door Disney musical bear-ly tolerable.

You might be tempted to walk out. Don't.

One of the more entertaining documentaries to come along in some time.