Not one of Hartley's most successful efforts, but it's witty, daring, different and a welcome alternative to Hollywood pap.

Solondz beats on abortion defenders, stomps on the pro-life crowd and finishes up by telling us there is no free will. If you want some easy laughs tonight you'd be better off curling up with some Kierkegaard.

You may call the film blingsploitation but its fun-loving hoodlums know who's fooling whom.

The feature debut by hot, young Singapore director Royston Tan, 15, is a descent into hell -- a hell inhabited by five scuzzy 15-year-old boys whose world, as one puts it, "only consists of darkness."

Then everything went wrong, thanks to Middle East politics -- as the moving documentary Raging Dove shows.

If the filmmakers had spent $14.98 of that $100 mil on a DVD of "The Mummy," they might have learned a few things: You need a head villain who is surpassingly evil, you need some jokes that get laughs - and a few sword-fighting skeletons wouldn't hurt.

Rarely have filmmakers had a more wildly improbable happy ending forced on them. Well, you need all the help you can get, divine or otherwise, when your two stars - Drew Barrymore and Jimmy Fallon - have no chemistry whatsoever.

Gut-Bustingly funny moves are pretty rare, so hustle over to Kung Fu Hustle, actor-director Ste phen Chow's exhilaratingly hilarious and affectionate send-up of Hong Kong action flicks.

May be predictable and silly, but it's never dull.

A flaccidly pretentious and snooze-inducing trilogy of allegedly racy tales.

A well-built machine that dunks you into a big warm vat of sadness. There's no plot: It's a situation drama. Instead of punch lines, it delivers regular shots of heartbreak.

A Hole in My Heart will disgust many (probably most) viewers as it cements Moodysson's reputation as one of today's most daring filmmakers.

You need a scorecard to keep track of who's bedding whom in Happily Ever After, a tres French take on sex and love, in that order.

Akhavan plays each change brilliantly in a film that is so tightly controlled that the mere glimpse of a new beard or a prayer mat being unrolled becomes a moment of horror.

A moving documentary about poetry inspired by combat.

Looking at the art and listening to the music is wonderful just on its own, but hanging out with Hockney is also a treat. He's a delightful companion.

Infuriating, but not for the reason filmmakers want it to be.

Wonderfully quirky love story.

This is noir on steroids, cartoonishly ultra-violent and drawing inspiration from Mickey Spillane novels and E.C. comics of the '50s.

Everyone seems to think that this crotch-rocket rumble is the equivalent of invading Normandy. "We're a band of brothers," says one racer. No, you're a band of boys, competing to see who has the longest camshaft.

Dom DeLuise, as a fruitcake director, and John Waters fave Mink Stole, as Robin's Jewish mother, spice things up, but not enough to make Girl Play worthwhile.

Kontroll calls itself a thriller, and you will agree if you are excited by scenes of bored inspectors arguing with sullen straphangers.

Look at Me is on the talky side, but like Jaoui's directing debut, "The Taste of Others," it offers uniformly excellent performances and smart observations on social and family interactions.

A cut above what you'd expect from the spinoff of a sequel.

Sometimes beautiful to look at but ultimately too poetic for its own good.

It's the audience that gets punk'd in this crass and sloppy comic recycling.

If one enjoyed manufacturing symbols as much as Miller, one might speculate that Rose is Rebecca Miller, aching to be her own artist, and Jack is Arthur.

The gags run thin after half an hour or so.