Thanks to Jordan's bravura storytelling, Breakfast on Pluto is one of very few movies this year truly worth remembering.

Fonteyne doesn't have much use for words. He prefers to tell his story via facial expressions and body language, much as filmmakers did in the silent era.

Tackling serious issues with humor and understanding, the film portrays Mona's woes as a microcosm of the entire mess in the Middle East.

Train wreck.

Basically "Jumanji" in outer space -- and even without Robin Williams, this is still a singularly loud, charmless and overbearing family movie that could use a hit or two of Ritalin.

This weekend, forget "Jarhead" - two hours of guys playing grab-ass in the shower and no chicks. If you're lucky, you can con your girlfriend into seeing Pride & Prejudice.

F-A-I-L-U-R-E.

Naomi Watts is the only explanation for the existence of the student-y digital video feature Ellie Parker.

Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic works best when this equal-opportunity offender is on the stage.

A charming if overlong romantic comedy.

Combining a thoughtful script with splendid acting -- especially by Sansa -- Bellocchio has fashioned a tense thriller that is both understated and powerful.

The tragic victims in "City of God" are played by actors while those in La Sierra are flesh-and-blood real.

The erstwhile crack dealer born Curtis Jackson may be a prot‚g‚ of Eminem, but this shapeless and derivative gangsta saga is no "8 Mile."

It's "Saturday Night Fever," Johannesburg-style.

Heavy on celebrity voices, pop culture references and rock tunes and low on memorable characters or imagination, Chicken Little is on a par with such mediocre but popular CGI films as "Madagascar" and "Shark Tale."

Marines did not play football in full anti-chemical suits in 112-degree weather; men would have been collapsing and perhaps dying because it was so hard to breathe in the gas masks. Do I quibble over details? Details are all the movie offers. There isn't a story.

Fails to dig out the dramatic meat, despite a yeoman performance by Danny Aiello.

The heavily symbolic The Dying Gaul doubtless worked better as a play, but the film is worth seeing for its peerless cast.

The conclusion is that in this bare-chested band of brothers, what really matters is camaraderie. "Having friends," remembers one guy, "that was the best part." As he says this, the décor behind him features a pair of handcuffs.

Cinema vanité.

Wal-Mart's home office in Bentonville, Ark., can rest easy: Greenwald, as usual, is hysterically preaching to the choir.

You don't have to be crazy to sing like Larry "Wild Man" Fischer -- subject of Josh Rubin's reverential documentary Derailroaded -- but it helps.

There'll likely be more Z's in the audience than on the screen.

The sort of movie where all of the best jokes are in the trailer, but these days a romantic comedy with anything worth quoting at all is something of an accomplishment.

Jigsaw is a wickedly fun villain, if you can put aside the implausibility of a guy who likes to saunter away from his deathbed to kidnap younger, stronger people and devise medieval torture chambers.

Meet American Beastly, perhaps the most bitter studio film of the year.

Your baby is near death. Instead of dropping everything to save his life, you make sure the video camera keeps rolling.

Kane was nicknamed "Killer" because of his playing style -- and New York Doll has a killer surprise ending that may leave even hard-core punkers reaching for the Kleenex.