The eloquent narration forSaint of 9/11 is delivered by Ian McKellen.

Genially preposterous, with stunt players outnumbering actors by something like a 3-to-1 ratio, the action thriller Crank is surprisingly watchable.

The entire movie seems to have about the same budget as a 30-second sneaker commercial. I'm not talking Nike, either. I'm talking a commercial for Steve's Second-Hand Sneaker World and Falafel Emporium that you'd see on NY1 News at 3:08 a.m.

Profoundly disturbing, blood-chilling suspenser.

Lassie is a dog movie even non-dog lovers will lap up.

A slight movie. But it has its share of charm and is a pleasant way to spend a little over an hour. It also is a sign that Burns might actually have talent.

The indie Mutual Appreciation isn't much more interesting than hanging out with four smart, nice, semi-confused people in their 20s. But that puts it far above the average movie.

Riding Alone features a moving performance by Takakura (often called the Asian Clint Eastwood), as well as pretty cinematography. But the mushy script, co-written by Zhang, never rises above that of a TV soap opera.

While This Film Is Not Yet Rated does not suggest an alternative to the ratings board, it does expose this Tinseltown sham to some well-deserved public ridicule.

The presentation is conventional, but the subject matter isn't. Besides, when was the last time you saw anything resembling good news coming out of the Middle East?

Ach, Klaus, das ist funny! But Beerfest goes on too long. Take out 20 minutes of nonfunctioning jokes, and it would have given you a comedy buzz like four tankards of Lowenbrau.

It's basically a series of music videos - a few quite good - strung together over two long hours and loosely connected by a weak story line loaded with anachronisms.

The star is Luke Benward, a dead ringer for the young Kurt Russell.

It has grit.

A repugnant little indie black comedy, poorly acted in hideous-looking digital video, guaranteed to send audiences fleeing for the nearest shower.

There's potential here, but the script is entirely too, shall we say, Hollywood. There's even a dog-poop joke.

An impressive supporting cast can't save this painfully unfunny, ham-fisted mockumentary poking fun at reality TV shows.

Nonprofessional actors and convincingly dingy details give Fratricide a harsh documentary quality, and its "Midnight Cowboy"-style ending is bitterly powerful. Devotees of seamy '70s cinema should give this little film a look.

Joe Swanberg - who directed, edited, lensed, co-wrote and played one of the lovelorn characters - has done wonders with a nothing budget and a personable cast of nonprofessional actors. For viewers so disposed, there are several arty shots of nude women.

Starts as a serious examination of the two women's lives, but it descends into a mushy melodrama complete with schmaltzy music and dewy cinematography.

The film failed to be frightening, suspenseful or dramatic but accidentally succeeded in being absolutely hilarious.

A campus comedy that's as dull as bong water, Accepted is like the product of a community college filmmaking class, remedial division.

Deserved an end-of-the-year prestige release, is a true work of art in a marketplace filled with velvet paintings. It's positively magical, the reason we loved movies in the first place.

There is plenty of blame to go around for this laughless mess.

Each scene stumbles onto a detail of inspired absurdity or a crunchy bite of dialogue that encapsulates Chinaski's weird flavor of self-destruction.

A better than adequate date movie.

Solid cast notwithstanding, 10th and Wolf is a generic, direct-to-video-grade gangster movie.

[Refn] mixes jittery hand-held camerawork, improvised dialogue and available light to create a nightmarish world of sex, drugs and horrific brutality that will turn off many viewers while delighting others.