Promising new writer-director Mark Christopher is like "Dollhouse" director Todd Solondz's more cheerful little brother.

Enlightening.

Schwartz throws in so many characters and implausible subplots - none worth mentioning - that Perception sinks under its own weight.

Loads of fun, especially if you use the site yourself. But it plays too much like a paid ad.

Perry - who also produced, wrote and lensed - was able to talk Fujimori into letting her interview him on camera in Japan. He puts on a great show.

As Coach Haskins would say, it wins because it sticks to the fundamentals.

A thoroughly mediocre dramedy.

Tristan & Isolde makes sacking and pillaging about as exciting as the line at the post office.

Painfully sincere. But it wrings almost no laughs or tears from this seemingly idiot-proof premise.

Meet Peter Berlin - the man whose eccentric life style has earned him the title the Garbo of gay porn.

It's nice to see a love story that deals with mature people. We're not likely to get anything like it from Hollywood. So enjoy When the Sea Rises while you can.

The film looks like it cost 10 cents, but a lot of the jokes are gold. Hollywood, take notice of writer-director James Westby.

Arlyck spends more time following himself and his own lefty family than checking up on Sean.

Profound and majestic.

What kind of hellspawn might result if "Saw" bought a copy of "Let's Go: Europe" and went backpacking across Europe to have a one-night stand with Dracula? Something like Hostel.

A pathetic stoner comedy.

Sort of a poor man's "Rent" - minus the music and the AIDS - and much blander than the title would have you expect.

Censors in Iran must have been smoking weed when they approved I'm Taraneh, 15, a sympathetic portrait of an unwed mother.

Semicoherent.

Boasts a lovable ensemble cast, with a standout performance by Zaira Valenzuela as 14-year-old Paola.

Andy Lau and Siu Fai Mak, the men behind the successful Hong Kong police thriller trio "Infernal Affairs," should be arrested for directing Initial D.

The Promise employs laughable computer effects and second-rate martial-arts fighting to tell the hard-to-figure story of a princess and her three lovers.

Its many pleasures derive from the way this drama unfolds unexpectedly from the characters rather than imposing itself on them.

Hats off to Elisabeth Marton, who has taken a bunch of dry facts and fashioned them into the gorgeous My Name Was Sabina Spielrein.

Director McLean doesn't let up on the suspense, which builds to an electrifying climax that is greatly abetted by Will Gibson's gritty cinematography and Francois Tetaz' nerves-inducing score.

Don't confuse the 18th-century Vene tian setting in Casanova with sophisti cation. The film's one-dimensional characters and lame one-liners make it a sitcom with petticoats.

Reiner, who came in to rescue this picture after the original director was fired, once gave us "When Harry Met Sally," but seeing him work now is like watching Willie Mays hobble around in a Mets uniform during that pathetic final year when he hit .211.

This lavish coffee-table-book of a movie gradually reveals itself as an uninvolving, crashing bore.