Generally delightful, and reminiscent of two vanished ages: when men were men, and when movies were movies.

A confusing mishmash.

No light leavens the ashen wash of writer-director Tim Blake Nelson's relentlessly downbeat Holocaust drama The Grey Zone. None.

Less of a "You go, girl" manifesto than its title would suggest.

Desperately unfunny and unexciting.

Who needs mind-bending drugs when they can see this.

A stylish but distressingly generic and not particularly scary American remake of a phenomenally popular Japanese supernatural thriller that spawned two sequels and a TV miniseries.

Schrader's strongest movie since "Affliction," is another meditation on American masculinity powerfully told with great wit and style.

Makes a convincing argument that the decades-old Cuban blockade has outlived its usefulness.

A well-intentioned, semi-autobiographical pastiche, is trapped in a straitjacket of political correctness, self-conscious acting and spurts of try-hard dialogue that come off as precious.

Most troubling is just how easy it is to sell nuclear secrets with the help of large corporations and the acquiescence of governments.

Technically competent. What it needs is an original script.

Represents a kind of progress. Where once only a few ultra-talented, lucky black filmmakers got to make big studio movies, now we have standard-issue Hollywood schlock that happens to be made by, about and for African-Americans.

A substandard attempt to outfit a World War II submarine with every haunted-house cliché known to man and filmmakers.

Ambitious, guilt-suffused melodrama crippled by poor casting.

Looks and feels like a bad imitation of "Trainspotting" without any of that film's wit or charm.

Any one episode of "The Sopranos" would send this ill-conceived folly to sleep with the fishes.

Another big, dumb action movie in the vein of "XXX," The Transporter is riddled with plot holes big enough for its titular hero to drive his sleek black BMW through.

Loving but overlong meditation on movies and the people who make them.

Solid family entertainment, a handsomely crafted and well-acted new film version of Natalie Babbitt's classic 1975 children's book.

A not particularly revealing documentary.

A rote exercise in both animation and storytelling.

Not as bad as rumor would have it. It's worse.

Some of the year's most arresting female performances justify White Oleander, a highly episodic melodrama.

Essentially a weird series of nonsequiturs. I'd rather be watching a sequel to the much-maligned "Little Nicky" -- a Sandler film that was at least trying to do something interesting -- than this failed experiment in fusing high and low culture.

Dong, who is gay, does his best to stay objective. Just how these families interact may surprise you.

Probably the most definitive portrait of Johnson that we are likely to get.

Doesn't have the polish of "Ocean's Eleven" - but it does have George Clooney.