Songbird Bjork and artist hubby Matthew Barney team up in Drawing Restraint 9, and the spectacular result is exactly what should be expected from these one-of-a-kind creative oddballs.

Entertaining and informative, but it suffers from distracting voice-overs of what are supposed to be Madame Mao's thoughts. Too bad.

Has a doozy of a surprise ending that doesn't really stand up under close scrutiny - but you'll have so much fun getting there, it's easy to go along with Lee and company for the ride.

Stay Alive is D.O.A, a notion of an outline of a rough draft of a killer video-game flick.

Debbie, for better or for worse, is the high point of the entertaining but lightweight film, which is better suited to public TV than the big screen. Oh, yes. If anybody should decide to open another beauty school in Kabul, be sure to leave Debbie in Indiana.

One of those indie excursions to Loserville that lasts an hour and a half but feels longer than "Roots."

Redmon makes a valid argument, but he belabors the point. Mardi Gras: Made in China would play better if it were more focused and less repetitive.

It's expertly directed in a low-key, naturalistic way that brings to mind French auteur Robert Bresson. It's also emotionally forceful and contains heartbreaking performances.

Does a solid job of documenting the life and art of the drag grand dame, whose life has been almost as tumultuous as the characters played by the Hollywood divas he channels.

Stoned carries a freaked-out buzz of nostalgia for the era when celebs willfully destroyed themselves for our amusement.

Virtually unwatchable and laugh-free.

A witty mix of "Frankenstein" and David Lynch's "Eraserhead" - with a tip of the hat to Hitchcock's "Saboteur" - Puzzlehead is an indie delight.

A cheesy and unpleasant splatterfest.

It turns out the stories don't unite at all. Instead, we get a series of dramatic vignettes, most of them decently executed but all of them rooted in the weepy sensibility of TV movies.

Find Me Guilty belongs to the odd couple of Dinklage and Diesel, whose volatile performance finally proves he is much more than an action star.

Thanks to a winning cast, all of this is funnier than you would expect considering the erratic script.

An entertaining piece of pulp fiction.

The movie is strangely demure in its attempts to be wild.

Melodramatic and heavy-handed.

The story isn't exactly new, but Bollain, an actress in her own right, keeps Take My Eyes from sinking into clichés.

Just because the goods are made in Italy doesn't mean they're designer-quality; Don't Tell is glossy on the outside, cardboard and staples on the inside.

It's all interspersed with strange attempts at comedy that fail on two levels: They're not funny, and they puncture what little drama there is.

Guaranteed to leave you outraged at the way children - and, for that matter, adults - are exploited by mining companies.

Drab, despairing and pointless.

Most of the interviews are as brief as they are obvious, and it doesn't help that none of those interviewees, including clergymen who served as technical advisers, are identified.

Excellent performances are given by all, with Alidoosti, who has the face of an angel, once again a wonder.

This is a guy comedy being mismarketed as a chick flick, complete with a poster that looks like a page from Lucky magazine.

These man-eaters are deadly, mainly in their ability to bore you to death.