Paints a vivid portrait of a compelling young man but, perhaps inevitably, goes overboard on the deification.

The strange thing about the movie is its idea that such couples are rare flowers. But you can scarcely take a step in Seattle or San Francisco or Los Feliz without meeting them in hordes.

Son of God is guilty of all the sins of the 1950s Bible epics, but without any of the majesty.

If you've seen "Gone With the Wind," you've seen what Love in the Time of Cholera isn't.

And how good should we feel about this match anyway? Absolutely anyone, we learn, can win the 1913 U.S. Open. Except blacks, Jews or women.

Good-looking but tonally dubious feature debut from Elizabeth Wood.

Sorvino brings a spark, but neither she nor Patti LuPone, in an amusing cameo, can overcome the clockwork-like plod to the end.

Scriptwriters behind Deliver Us From Eva obviously expended all their creative energy on the catchy title and then promptly ran out of steam.

One of that film's funniest performers, John Michael Higgins, is on hand as a maniacal European celebrity handler who keeps swearing, "I am no homoist."

There are a handful of moments to entrance a non-fan. When the musicians and singers assemble to sing “Proserpina,” the last song McGarrigle ever wrote, with its haunting refrain (“Come home to Mama”), the effect is transcendent.

Fails to show indignation that rich white guys are trying to get even richer at the expense of a naive black kid from the ghetto.

The whole thing is shot in an irritating, self-conscious way.

An unsatisfying biopic.

Not since Edward Norton kicked his own butt in Fight Club has the screen witnessed such a brutal self-drubbing.

Despite a script that occasionally calls for some embarrassingly awkward lines, Kollek's cast generally acquits itself well.

A too-cute-by-half Irish romantic comedy that's overloaded with movie references that begin with the title.

Sunk by too much schmaltz (even for the Lower East Side).

An OK kids movie passing through on the way to video.

As DJ, Columbus Short eases his way through the movie without trying to impress us too much, which is welcome, but he's also a little bland around the edges.

Douglas Langway's middling comedy is sort of a "Sex and the City" for big, hirsute gay guys and the younger cubs who fancy them.

So once you figure out the first rule of Zombie Fight Club — nothing too bad can happen to Brad Pitt — the movie is, despite intermittent thrills, rote.

The movie is a gentle British ensemble comedy much like "Four Weddings and a Funeral" - minus the four weddings and four-fifths of the wit.

In the dud thriller The Tourist, Jolie basically plays an overdressed, humorless live-action version of Jessica Rabbit, running around Venice dodging hired killers.

Offers a few laughs - and little sexual heat.

Could hardly be more predictable.

It may be a second-rate “Lord of the Rings,” but at least it doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Whedon keeps approaching ideas, but every time he does so he leaves a flaming bag of dog poop on the doorstep, rings the bell and runs away tittering.

If the filmmakers had spent $14.98 of that $100 mil on a DVD of "The Mummy," they might have learned a few things: You need a head villain who is surpassingly evil, you need some jokes that get laughs - and a few sword-fighting skeletons wouldn't hurt.