For boldness of execution as well as vision, The Red Chapel stands out as a singular, important comedy.

Set on the seamy side of Barcelona, Biutiful may not be a feel-good movie for this time of year, but it's well worth your time.

Getting a small cohort of humanity dead right is an impressive artistic achievement, but Mike Leigh's beautifully modulated English drama Another Year advances even farther.

A small but shattering film that marks its writer-director, Derek Cianfrance, as an artist of real depth, observes relationship dynamics at a molecular level, welling with as much understanding as Ingmar Bergman's "Scenes from a Marriage."

An exploration of the power of religion -- should delight Dumont's fans. For others, it will take a bit of getting used to. The effort will prove to be worthwhile.

Since this low-grade comedy doesn't really even attempt to be funny, the purpose of the movie is to establish (or reinforce) a feeling of luxurious old-timey melancholy.

Black was already the world's biggest little kid, and he might be the only actor who could have made this movie such nimble fun.

The best kid-friendly movie of the holiday season is Nénette, a portrait of an orangutan.

Director Lee Chang-dong could well have cut 30 minutes out of the story, but Jeon's performance is powerful enough to keep Secret Sunshine from drowning in an ocean of tears.

Little Fockers may not be the worst, most vulgar, most pathetic and least funny picture of the year. But it's a strong contender for second place behind the picture Brett Favre allegedly sent over his cellphone.

To compete with the quintessence of nullity that is Sofia Coppola's insufferable Somewhere, imagine a film called "Wanna See Me Crack My Knuckles?" or possibly "Let's Learn How Long It Takes This Shallow Dish of Liquid To Evaporate."

It isn't much of a contest: The clear winner is John Wayne, because the Coens are playing his game. The Duke couldn't do the Coens' sly in-jokes, but they've never been able to reach out and move the audience to heights of emotion. Before now, they've never tried.

Sillen drags out generic talking heads who say generic things about Bernstein, a generic boho. The film might suffice if you're looking for something to watch on cable TV some early morning. But it isn't worth the hassle and expense of going to a theater.

In his feature debut, Bormatov doesn't much bother with things like character development, relying instead on raw brutality, profanity and sex. It shouldn't be long before the Hollywood remake with Angelina Jolie.

Cavanagh, the always-engaging former star of "Ed" (with whom I am friendly), and the adorable Faris (whom I don't know -- but feel free to look me up, Anna!) make the non-animated scenes amusing, as the ranger and the documentarian fall in love and fight to save the park. But the script doesn't give them a lot to do.

One of the highlights of Casino Jack is Abramoff doing dead-on impressions of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Ronald Reagan, among others.

It contains no poetry. It simply conjures up a horrible feeling -- and then sits back awaiting congratulation.

An eyeball party. The score by Daft Punk, which veers from homages to Hans Zimmer's thundery work in "The Dark Knight" to a retro-'80s synth sound, surpasses magnificence.

This rambling, overproduced, tone-deaf melange of romance, comedy and drama is only slightly more engaging than Brooks' other feature this century, the unfortunate Adam Sandler vehicle "Spanglish" (2004).

A dispiriting return to the tired, star-driven, pop-culture-ridden formula that DreamWorks Animation ran into the ground before its best feature in years, this spring's "How to Train Your Dragon."

not so much a movie as an "act," one that belongs at a club called Shenanigans or maybe Chuckleheads.

Cool It -- complete with its own slide show and witty graphics -- amounts to a devastating rebuttal to Gore-ism.

I wouldn't want to see five movies like this one each week but it's a cheeky, madcap joyride.

The result is as impressive as one would expect.

Porno plus Parkinson's don't quite add up to sexy fun.

Despite much effort, neither Johnson nor director George Tillman Jr. ("Notorious") can make this preposterous tale, live up to its title.

The only thing remotely scary about Monsters is that Magnolia is releasing this boring scare-, suspense- and gore-free horror movie (which reportedly cost less than $100,000) on Halloween weekend.

Walker's breezy film turns Muniz into a folk hero. And who am I to argue?