Extraordinarily sensual and extraordinarily bleak, Claire Denis' Nenette and Boni depicts a world of diffident youth, of estranged families and displaced souls. [02 May 1997, p.15]

A keen observational seriocomedy, The Syrian Bride, like "Paradise Now," suggests that all residents of the Middle East, no matter their faith or their nationality, are more alike than not.

Ravi is an affable guide through the world of Indian dating, and Champa and Vasant are adorable and hilarious.

Velásquez is a remarkable individual, and her message should not go unheeded.

The truth is left for the audience to decide. And while the conclusion isn't necessarily clear, it is unsettling.

A charming, warm-hearted Swedish dramedy about the redemptive power of neighborly love.

The Hoax makes the fakery of disgraced writers Jayson Blair, James Frey and Stephen Glass seem puny by comparison. Irving was the grand master, and Gere's portrait and Hallström's movie suggest why: He almost bought his own story, believed his own outrageous pack of lies.

As efficient and zippy as its subject.

Simple, poignant and leavened with humor, it's a film that affirms the nourishing aspects of love and companionship.

Brazen shocker is never less than compelling -- even when you feel compelled to shut your eyes.

The film leaves the viewer with a more vivid sense of Kerry the man, portraying him as admirable, if not lovable.

Arnold's Wuthering Heights has its doom-laden moments of urgency and heartache, but vast swaths of the (longish) film just seem to meander across the muddy hills.

This sad, staggering drama should be seen: out of the grimness, and the profound calamity, you can almost taste life in your mouth.

Merchants of Doubt shouldn't be a hard sell. The fact that it is should make you very mad.

Try not to let the film's overbearingly jaunty score get in the way. The Lady in the Van is quite a feat.

Labaki, who studied filmmaking in Lebanon and France, has a deft touch and nice instincts.

Splendid, smile-inducing fun.

By the time this globe-hopping, movie-star-crammed disaster saga - directed with petrifying efficiency by Steven Soderbergh - comes full circle, you'll never want to touch a subway pole or elevator button or ATM again.

For a movie about community and forgiveness, family and grace, Pieces of April is refreshingly unsappy.

Aspires to the devilish crudity and unfettered social commentary of South Park. But Zwigoff's direction lacks the exaggerated cartoonishness necessary.

A fascinating, albeit self-congratulatory, account of how Disney's fabled animation department was reenergized and reimagined between 1984 and 1994.

With varying degrees of success, the filmmaker gets each musician to talk about the personal and musical roots that blossomed into his technique.

The Warlords, ultimately, tries to speak to the futility of war - but it does so by staging one gargantuan dustup after another.

There is honest sentiment in the arc of this story, aided by the chemistry between Gottsagen and LaBeouf, and by the warm mood of the film.

With the exception of one sequence, this PG-13 movie is so youth-friendly that I thought I might take my 10-year-old. But that sequence, upsetting for those of any age, makes the movie better suited for mature 12-year-olds and older.

There's no quick fix for a culture "addicted to debt," as one wag puts it in the film. But watching I.O.U.S.A. is a good place to start.

The film is a ponderous, overwrought meditation on grief, loss, guilt, and memory that prods and probes its characters more like lab rats than living, breathing creations.

For a movie loaded with ear-scorching profanity, oceans of booze, and illegal drugs enough to keep all of Cedar Rapids in high spirits for a month, there is something fundamentally decent about the film.