Morgan never reaches the heights the film probably would have hit if had been directed by Tim Burton, whose style is frequently evoked -- especially Shirley Walker's playful score, which seems channeled directly from Burton's frequent collaborator Danny Elfman.

A remarkably smart and weird film, even if it's sad and sometimes difficult to watch, with jokes designed to make you cringe.

It's not exactly a surprise the makers of Reign Over Me feel compelled to manufacture a happy ending for a story that really has none. Pity.

There are some zippy chase scenes and shootouts, and tension throughout. But the characters — especially the lethargic Affleck — make for more of a C-Team than an A-Team.

Albert Brooks shows up as a red-tailed hawk whose desire to help clashes with his killer instincts; Dana Carvey is pitch-perfect as the ancient basset hound whose back legs are in a wheelchair.

Anchorman 2 is like watching “Anchorman” being re-enacted by semi-professionals trying to cover up their lapses by being extra-emphatic, super-doofy: 2013 Steve Carell does a lousy impression of 2004 Steve Carell.

Not surprisingly in this tale of desperate men, the only women are top-heavy cartoon characters — literally, animated sequences illustrate Frank’s stories — or live-action betrayers, like Dakota Fanning’s Annie, Frank’s ex-girlfriend. I found the cartoons more interesting.

An unconventional movie that requires an unconventional mindset to appreciate.

At least there is a happy ending — DeChristopher, for wasting the government’s resources, properly served 21 months in federal prison. Now, he has moved on to Harvard Divinity School, where his sanctimony will serve him well.

It’s a tiresome, preachy, repetitive, disorganized and dismally unfunny attempt to appeal to Michael Moore fans. The overall temperature of their efforts is strictly room: Call this “Fahrenheit 68.”

The movie is a good 40 minutes too long and momentum ceases to build a while before it finally ends. Still, when the director’s party is raging, you’ll wish you had an invite.

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

Like the similar, and slightly superior, "The Conjuring" last summer, Oculus eschews the buckets of gore common to R-rated horror movies and takes a relatively subtle, psychological approach — even if the somewhat disappointing ending leaves the door open for a sequel (or three).

Less a movie than a checklist of indiecinema clichés. Youth on a journey of self-discovery? Got it. Dead mom? Uh-huh. Wounded and entitled when it’s trying to be soulful, plotless, laden with indie rock and entirely overhyped at Sundance? Checkarooney.

Posey is a delight throughout, and Zoe Cassavetes is clearly a filmmaker to watch.

With much help from an exasperated off-screen prompter - the only other performer in this small gem - Plummer's Barrymore shows flashes of glory as he delivers bits and pieces of various Shakespearean roles.

An irresistible documentary tribute that's as yummy and insubstantial as a sackful of Twinkies.

A stunning study of ennui.

Some of the year's most arresting female performances justify White Oleander, a highly episodic melodrama.

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.

Enjoyable if only to hear KarKar perform his mournful and personal songs, including a tender tribute to his late wife.

I’d like to see a sequel about her freshman year at college, please. There were still a few items on that list left unchecked.

The comedy is without distinction and the conclusion is melodramatic. I must note that ads for the film are misleading because they give no hint of the dark side of The Bubble.

Everyone seems to think that this crotch-rocket rumble is the equivalent of invading Normandy. "We're a band of brothers," says one racer. No, you're a band of boys, competing to see who has the longest camshaft.

Strip away the alt-country soundtrack, though, and you've got a Bette Davis fallen-woman-redeemed picture from 1937.

Not many surprises are in store, but the film’s affection for the dramatist is pleasing.

[Tatum] lets his cuddly co-star shine and wrings out a few touching moments of his own, too.

Shot in black-and-white, La Tropical serves as an atmospheric portrait of Cuba in the twilight of Castro's rule.