Miller never really fleshes out all of these colorful characters in her emotionally facile script, leaving the heavy lifting to the actors. Fortunately for The Private Lives of Pippa Lee, Wright is more than up to the challenge.

The season's first guilty pleasure, Shoot 'Em Up is a joyously silly, R-rated, John Woo-in flected Looney Tune, with Clive Owen as a carrot-chomping, gun-toting Bugs Bunny matching wits with Elmer Fudd-ish assassin Paul Giamatti.

To put it as positively as possible, there's never a dull moment in this flick - and that's not something you can take for granted at this time of the year. At the same time, though, there's rarely a believable moment in the script.

Has a secret weapon in Winger, whose part is small but crucial. Looking a bit older and with redder hair than previously, she brings an earthiness to a movie that could use a lot more of that quality.

Falters seriously is its too-leisurely pacing.

A well-intentioned, semi-autobiographical pastiche, is trapped in a straitjacket of political correctness, self-conscious acting and spurts of try-hard dialogue that come off as precious.

The movie is saved by its well-trained four-legged stars and the likable Liam Aiken ("Road to Perdition"), who plays 12-year-old loner Owen Baker.

Disco may still be dead, but Benji: Off the Leash! resurrects another dubious artifact of the '70s - the crudely made family films starring that lovable mutt.

The Grudge offers a bit more exposition than did "Ju-On," but the plot is still wispy.

Yet what makes this movie is the digital effects. It's got all the heart of a demolition derby.

Cheerful, slightly cheesy entertainment that uses the latest special-effects techniques to breathe life into a venerable film tradition.

"Rhapsody” has a shallow script, oversize performances and looks like it was shot in a sauna.

At best, the film serves up mild chuckles, with occasional cute jokes.

This movie fails so spectacularly - and on so many levels - that it's like watching a train plummet off a bridge.

Campy and clichéd.

Very few actors would have the courage to allow von Trier to put them through what Dafoe and Gainsbourg experienced in the name of art.

Bullet Train is a fun flick, to be sure, reminiscent of director Guy Ritchie’s better crime comedies such as “The Gentlemen” with Hugh Grant. But, as the title suggests, it’s louder and faster. And, a warning to the squeamish, there’s a swimming pool’s worth of blood.

Four Brothers? Ringling Brothers is more like it, because John Singleton's latest stinks like something the elephants left behind. It's not clear what the film is trying to do, but it seems safe to guess that it's doing it wrong.

Just when things should be getting exciting and complex, they become repetitive and predictable. Subtext becomes hint becomes statement becomes declaration. For once, Pinter is a little too easy to understand.

Amsterdam has every advantage imaginable. Doesn’t matter. It’s the worst movie of the year so far, and I will bow down to whatever comes along and tops it.

Aside from a relatively brief appearance by Joan Cusack's avatar as the kidnapped mother, there are no involving characters or situations.

For much of Flannel Pajamas I wondered if the couple's big problem was that Stuart was secretly gay. Nothing so interesting - he's just a narcissistic control freak and she's off-puttingly needy.

Frankenstein’s Army is funny and original, with innovative costumes and set designs. It’s sure to please horror fans.

On the whole, the pairing of these two comedy titans is forgettable and slow as an ice age. To put it in skiing parlance: Downhill is pizza-ing when it needs to french-fry.

An unassuming love comedy with plot problems.

It's like your appendix - you'll never even miss it.

Psst! Wanna vicariously experience a consciousness-raising LSD trip and watch Sarah Michelle Gellar star in some explicit sex scenes?

Might have worked as a travelogue, minus the story. In its present form, it is hardly worth the $10 you will be asked to fork over at the box office.