Rohmer pulls off a wonderful feat: celebrating the elegance, and artifice, of another era at the same time he brings this tale of social upheaval boldly into the present.

A haunting allegory about the rise and fall of a figure who possesses powerful charisma, if weak karma.

It might not be good enough to make you laugh consistently, but Hollywood Ending looks good enough to eat.

It's got one of the best kisses in movie history: Spidey, hanging upside down, delivers an open-mouth smooch to Mary Jane, a lip-lock for the ages.

Rain is a quiet, disquieting triumph.

Rarely has sex on screen been so aggressively anti-erotic.

This film about a career gal's date with fate careers out of control.

Exhilarating, breathless, must-see chronicle of the skateboarder revolution and evolution.

A slick, stylish hardboiled caper filtered through a druggy haze and borrowing a bit of a "Memento" revenge motif and "Pulp Fiction" playfulness.

Best of all, though, is Northam, whose sable hair and polished poise put one in mind of the young Cary Grant. In this no-sweat performance, he's an actor who conveys how restorative it is to think.

Too freewheeling for its own good, like a Robert Altman ensemble piece without a gravitational core. But Hawke's actors are a talented troupe, and even when things get self-indulgent and fuzzy-headed (and boy, do they!), interesting stuff is going on.

When Bullock is on screen, Murder by Numbers is as far away as a sleepwalker's gaze. But when Schroeder focuses on the teenagers, the film is wide awake, eye-to-eye with adolescent angst and anomie.

Bielinsky's movie builds like a poker game in which the players, having invested everything, cannot afford to fold.

Iridescent as each of the actors is, the result is like a handful of beads without the connecting string.

Director Jean-Pierre Denis doesn't explore psychological motives, which are, finally, unknowable. What he accomplishes in his chilling, unnerving film is a double portrait of two young women whose lives were as claustrophic, suffocating and chilly as the attics to which they were inevitably consigned.

However charming Kingsley and Shaw are as the lovestruck pawns and Sorvino as the advancing queen, the premise is less playful than played-out.

Seething, searing tragedy of unmannerliness.

Blood-curdling stuff.

The film is better on mood than on message, sharply etching the professional desperation behind the forced gaiety.

The ads for The Sweetest Thing promise that if you loved "There's Something About Mary" and "My Best Friend's Wedding," then you can't miss this latest Cameron Diaz vehicle. Well, miss it.

It is inspirational in characterizing how people from such diverse cultures share the same human and spiritual needs.

Comes across as gratifying, not grating: the same way the familiarity of a well-crafted whodunit is part of the book's pleasures.

The folks at Disney's Touchstone Pictures would have been wiser, however, just to have forgotten all about this hyperactive farce.

The picture uses humor and a heartfelt conviction to tell a story about discovering your destination in life.

The result is a movie that is both laugh-out-loud funny and cringe-worthily silent.

Despite some jaunty performances and its pretty Cotswolds locale, the film, in the end, is hardly a pleasure at all.

It's hard not to get caught up in this improbable but true follow-your-dream tale.

This is a documentarylike film about a man who creates a castle in the air and then moves right in, the "Harold and the Purple Crayon" of the workplace.