Sporadically entertaining, occasionally quite funny.

Like Provence itself, Auteuil is in no hurry to get anywhere, reveling instead in the southern region's brilliant light and whispering crickets. His tangy accent and evident fondness for his character make the picture enjoyable enough as it plods along, and the final act wraps things up on a fulfilling note.

Yes, we remember one of the best movies of the 1990s, but the sequel is like the moment at the party when someone raises the shades and you realize that it’s blinding broad daylight, well past time to go home.

There is stuff in This Is the End that had me laughing so hard, I sensed new body parts joining in to help out — my pancreas was heaving, my bile ducts ripped.

Rogers gives a brave performance, but there isn't much chemistry between Bridges and Basinger, who were teamed to better effect in 1987's "Nadine."

Holds your attention for a while, but fails to build much suspense as it races toward a predictable climax. It probably would have worked better as a series of Webisodes, which reportedly was the original plan.

You don't have to have ever seen any of their movies to enjoy It Came From Kuchar, directed by one of George's former students, Jennifer M. Kroot. But you'll probably want to catch up with their work afterward.

Excellent performances by a good cast and a fairly authentic look at working-class struggles go only so far.

Moves at a leisurely pace, and it cries out for a narrator or even just an organizing principle.

The newly found footage of Fellini and actor Marcello Mastroianni on the set of "La Dolce Vita" made me want to run out and see that wonderful film yet again.

Studded with potent fright scenes and built on a rock-solid performance by the ever-dependable Kevin Bacon.

Basically a two-hour argument for regime change that isn't half as incendiary or persuasive as its maker would have you believe.

An intoxicating attack on the homogenization of wines around the world - a "Fahrenheit 9/11" for the oneophile set.

The Wall winds up as a captivating fable, an end-times scenario that’s more about the survival of the spirit than the body.

If this documentary is swift and witty, that’s in part because it relies heavily on clips of Orson Welles talking. And oh, how Welles could talk, that beautiful voice wrapping itself around tall tales and wine commercials with equal grace.

Most importantly, Halloween recovers its long-lost gravitas and self-respect. It makes us remember why we loved Carpenter’s original in the first place: It was artful, frightening and supremely well-acted — not “Scream 4.”

It's got more imagination than half a dozen movies combined; there's nothing else out there like this, and to me that's a very good thing.

This is first and foremost a farce, not unlike Nichols' "The Birdcage."

Harden and Pantoliano (especially) can be two of the most over-the-top performers in the business, but they don't strike a false note in Canvas - and neither does this heartbreaking movie.

Leguizamo knocks it out of the park as an armored car driver in The Take.

In the words of Al Gore, "Garbage Dreams makes a compelling case that modernization does not always equal progress."

The piéce de résistance is a "Rocky"-ish battle between bare-fisted Ip (Donnie Yen) and a racist Brit who uses boxing gloves and goes by the name Twister.

The film spirals steadily downward through humanity’s worst impulses as the guards, led by Angarano’s character, explore the free rein they’re given to torment the powerless.

The upper-crust British characters in The Little Stranger, the new horror film from “Room” director Lenny Abrahamson, are so rigid they make the Crawleys of “Downton Abbey” look like the Osbournes. The effect is occasionally spooky, but more often snoozy.

Overall, Gibney does a fine job documenting the timeless nature of Armstrong’s fall from grace. It’s undeniably satisfying to see the man himself lay it out: “It’s very hard to control the truth forever,” he says, awkwardly. “This has been my downfall.”

Picture Graham Greene crossed with James Bond, with a splash of Sacha Baron Cohen, and you'll start to imagine the nervy talents of Mads Brügger, the fearless Danish filmmaker who has for a second time come up with a stunning, funny, and vital piece of guerilla cinema.

Directed by Michael Showalter without too much sentimentality or cheese, the guilty-pleasure rom-com (emphasis on rom) is elevated by Hathaway’s layered performance as a swept-off-her-feet California mother that goes well beyond the confines of its supermarket pulp storyline.

1994 plays more like television than a theatrical film. The more limited scope isn’t bothersome, though, because you can only watch it on your TV, after all, and two more films/episodes are soon on the way.