Delivers one of those classic movie moments in which two screen legends go toe to toe, both barrels metaphorically blazing.

Offensive and unwatchable.

Clarkson, the reigning queen of the indies, is simultaneously funny and heartbreaking, following up killer performances in "The Station Agent" and "All the Real Girls."

Soporific, shamelessly derivative and barely coherent by American standards.

This frigid and inaccessible period piece wears its glumness like a shroud.

An example of Hollywood schlock from the team of Joel Schumacher (director) and Jerry Bruckheimer (producer) that lacks the faintest trace of imagination or genuine feeling.

The movie is saved by its well-trained four-legged stars and the likable Liam Aiken ("Road to Perdition"), who plays 12-year-old loner Owen Baker.

Hilariously overblown, "Cruelty" fairly pops at the seams with the beloved eccentricity of Joel and Ethan Coen, from the fiendishly ludicrous scenarios and casually tossed off visual gags to the razor-sharp repartee.

An overstuffed menu from a master chef who's trying way too hard to please himself.

Based on a video game, far exceeds expectations -- in negative ways that inspire thoughts of less than zero stars.

It's a drawn-out look at politics that's largely devoid of the trademark humor that long ago got New Wave veteran Chabrol labeled the Gallic Hitchcock.

Can that achingly abstract thing called love be captured in a beaker or dissected like a frog splayed on a slab? That's the belabored premise of this dorky, clinically structured romance cooked up in the Sundance Institute's screenwriter and filmmaker labs.

The script is obvious and cliched and the action is more disgusting than frightening.

There's not much new in this Filipino film by longtime director Gil M. Portes. But it's so endearing that only a grouch wouldn't be charmed.

The best drag movie since "Vegas in Space." That's hardly a huge recommendation.

One of those rare recent films whose emotional power resonates long after you've left the theater.

The drivel they call "reality TV" pales in comparison with the gripping big-screen documentary Bus 174.

A good edit would have allowed the film's worthy, obviously heartfelt, message to shine.

Steamy and solidly entertaining.

One of the year's most consistently entertaining and ingratiating movies, building to an inspirational climax that's as rousing as it is predictable.

[McCarthy] marries beautifully spare compositions with comically abbreviated dialogue to craft something magnificent from a vaguely precious premise that could easily be the foundation for a parody.

The problem is that there's not a sympathetic character among the nasty, brutish males. And the women, except for a flashy cameo by a swimsuit-clad Paris Hilton, are given short shrift.

It's a credit to the actors, particularly the superb Campbell, that completely preposterous material can be made strangely touching.

Duplex, a shoddily constructed and alarmingly unfunny dark comedy that squanders the talents of Ben Stiller and Drew Barrymore, is one real-estate deal you should walk away from.

The Rock deserves better than The Rundown, a brisk, good- hearted but predictable and uninspired - not to mention bone-crunchingly violent - action comedy.

The emotional honesty of [Lane's] performance provides a foundation that supports this shaky and often unbelievable Italian-set hybrid of "Shirley Valentine" and "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House."

An unholy mess.

Becomes almost laughably melodramatic and wields just about every rock-movie cliché in the book.