The script doesn't offer anything especially new, but Burman infuses the film with innovative lensing and capable acting.

The highly stylized, often outrageously funny biopic is anchored by a devastating performance by Toni Servillo as Andreotti, brilliantly capturing the gnomic politician's trademark slouch and inexpressive face.

Tedious and tawdry.

Like the prototypical "Shine," this is a film that romanticizes mental illness.

Fleck fails to provide any personal charisma, although the music is infectious.

Gives a taste of what it might be like to live inside Mike Tyson's mind.

Earth, you had me at baby polar bears.

With Treeless Mountain, Kim establishes herself as a first-class filmmaker.

State of Play is bordered by the states of absurdity and cliché.

This laugh-starved twist on "Big" and the many lesser body-swapping comedies of the era is basically a lecture on sexual abstinence.

Plodding drama.

Every Little Step shows only this: It hurts to flunk an audition, and it's nice to get hired. Everything it has to say about Broadway was said better in Bob Fosse's movie "All That Jazz" -- in its opening five minutes.

All-too-familiar and schmaltzy territory for both coming-of-age films and movies with elderly actors.

You know a performance has to be special when a Palestinian wins Israel's version of the Best Actress Oscar. But why should politics detract from a stunning performance?

Far more worth seeing than most of what's out there.

Not exactly as well known as Megadeth or Metallica, Anvil did indeed have 15 minutes of fame back in the 1980s. Then it went into obscurity. Now it's back, trying like hell to be somebody.

The thing is a virtual remake of the fusty oldie "Sweet Home Alabama," which came out back when movie scripts were written on stone tablets.

You know a movie's got problems when the most memo rable thing about it is Sienna Miller's mustache.

Admirable for venturing into very dark places rarely glimpsed in big-studio comedies.

Lymelife, set amid marital decay and teen frustration, isn't quite the "American Beauty" of the 516 area code, but it'll do.

The stars look bored out of their minds when the fourth episode of the franchise stalls between racing sequences.

The details are true and funny, played brilliantly.

Sadly, laughs are sparse in this labor of love, a self-conscious spoof by longtime "X-Files" producer R.W. Goodwin.

Gut-bustingly funny.

It all leads nowhere. There are pull-the-rug-out endings, and then there are pull-the-floor-out endings. The Escapist leaves you standing on nothing, like Wile E. Coyote, wondering why you bothered to come this far.

The slacker comedy-drama-romance-whatever Gigantic will fulfill all your alterna-movie weirdness requirements.

A gleaming hunk of French period schmaltz expertly rendered by director Christophe Barratier.

Algenis Perez Soto was a baseball player in real life, which helps to explain his sensitive, understated performance as Sugar. But he's let down by a manipulative script recycled from dozens of sports and immigrant movies. At least it dispenses with a Hollywood ending.