The sort of lowbrow sports comedy best enjoyed on a 50-inch screen with a six-pack, a bucket of wings and a fast-forward button.

A lot of preaching to the converted.

They'll say that this year's two Superman pictures could not be more different, but they'll be wrong: Like "Superman Returns," Hollywoodland is laden with atmosphere but moves like it has lead in its tights.

This ludicrous Quentin Tarantino-chosen low-budget movie features choppy editing and an amateurish script, and it switches strangely back and forth between dubbing and subtitles.

When the villain is revealed, you are neither surprised nor scared. You just think, "That guy?"

Too bad nearly half the film is about DeLuca, who has an irritating Freddie Mercury wail and is both obnoxious ("We'll play downstairs after midnight or we won't play at all") and moronic.

A movie bursting with nothingness.

Keeps such a lazy pace, with so many scenes that fail to move the story forward, that it should be cited for failing to meet the minimum speed for a crime drama.

A fascinating, sad, sometimes quite poetic window into a grueling way of life most of us know little about.

The script falls victim to the stereotypes and clichés so often found in movies about Asian-American families. Still, Lee shows talent, although it might take a feature or two before she finds her own voice.

Director-writer Pablo Tapero keeps the proceedings low-key and realistic. He doesn't hit you over the head with his ideas, yet he manages to say a lot about human nature.

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.