If you can overlook its TV-episode look, occasional lapses in logic and detours into lurid overkill, this old-school psychological thriller, which marries a tracking-the-serial-killer narrative with occult themes, is a creepy diversion.

Miller is wincingly good at playing up the innocence.

Zeller’s latest mental health movie is an exhaustingly tedious experience in which you check your watch several times a minute while taking breaks from giggling at the clumsy dialogue.

The director is, you won't be surprised to learn, Tsai Ming-laing, whose deadpan humor and minimalist lensing has made him a god among film geeks.

So exploitative and misogynistic that its last-minute dramatic turns and pleas for tolerance and understanding come off as manipulative as its heroine.

Director Uberto Pasolini (“Machan”) has a gem in Marsan, a virtuoso actor who plays the role delicately where another might have laid on the pathos too thick.

Isn't quite insipid, although if it were a little better, it could be.

It isn't the laugh riot of the year.

A sincere but underwhelming dramatization of one of the biggest news stories of 1956.

Zippily written and directed by the team of Cory Edwards, Todd Edwards and Tony Leech, Hoodwinked just wants the audience to have fun - something that's been in sparse supply in theaters of late.

Basically “Lorenzo’s Oil” without the earlier film’s visual flair.

The two lead actresses rise to the occasion when they're finally forced to confront each other at the climax.

Uncharted, you say? That’s a funny title for an action-adventure movie that doesn’t stray one inch from the well-trodden path of what came before it.

Not one of Hartley's most successful efforts, but it's witty, daring, different and a welcome alternative to Hollywood pap.

There are far, far worse ways to spend two hours than watching Jessica Alba in a skimpy bikini - as well as other natural wonders photographed in the Bahamas - in the airheaded underwater adventure Into the Blue.

Disappointingly routine kidnapping thriller with soap-opera trimmings.

A moribund attempt to exhume the Jack Ryan techno-thriller franchise with a severely miscast Ben Affleck, is truly the 20-megaton bomb among this summer's blockbusters.

The leaden pacing, somnambulant performances and incessant symbolism in nearly every shot will soon have you thinking that The Three Marias is three too many.

All the elements are in place for an entertaining murder mystery, but as Bigelow meanders aimlessly back and forth through time, the plot becomes increasingly water-logged.

The sad truth is that TV series like "Dawson's Creek" do a better job with precocious teen dialogue.

Horror-movie vets Harrington ("Wrong Turn") and Sagemiller ("Soul Survivors") struggle unsuccessfully with characters who are frequently more plastic than Nikki.

Draggy and contrived.

The film is light on those kitschy musical numbers that make Bollywood movies fun to watch.

Tonally, the film swings between whispery romance and ominous horror as it explores the dark side of love and lust, including an amusingly gory meditation on the notion that the person you think is your beloved might just rip your heart out.

Crowe — knowingly, I think — clowns around from start to finish. Even if the horror doesn’t have you screaming, his Italian accent will.

In the fourth and by far the worst screen version of "The Invasion of the Body Snatchers," Nicole Kidman's character struggles to stay awake - as will the audience.

One of my critical brethren opined that this sort of dumbing-down and low comedy may be the only way to sell the public a movie about the Iraq war. If that's true, God help us.

A crowd-pleasing comedy that isn't going to win any awards for originality.