The jokes are sparse and predictable, and the storytelling is, too. But Buscemi and Gershon have great fun with their roles, and Pitt is strangely agreeable about the whole thing. Bully for him.

The bickering lovers are generally likable, as are her quintessentially and hilariously Gallic parents (played by Delpy's real mom and dad).

A dry, vicious and deeply moving little comedy that sort of takes the structure of a teen sports movie, then undermines that structure at every turn.

If you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing you'll like.

Stardust in a nutshell: hardly great shakes, but better and more satisfying than it first seems.

Yet another witless, listless outing by the alleged comic minds behind such dubious treats as "The State," "Stella" and "Wet Hot American Summer."

But if the notion that Austen was more reactive than creative in her writing is troubling, so is the idea that she needed Lefroy to make her into a great writer. "Experience is vital," he tells her. We should be glad this guy never got his paws on Emily Dickinson.

It's a relentless finale to the "Bourne" movie trilogy that raises the stakes, pumps up the action and develops old characters while introducing new villains

Lopez can't decide if she's playing Lavoe's victim or enabler -- the movie sort of half blames her -- and neither of her characters is likable. The music's lovely, though.

Sometimes it's fun to put on costumes and wigs and just goof around.

The first to take a big-picture view of just how the plans for postwar occupation went so far off track.

The romance is boring. Everything is blandly good-looking. The emotional beats are so programmed, you can predict the entrance of every single note of the Philip Glass dirge of a score. And the title means nothing beyond its double-entendre.

It's amusing enough and breezy enough not to disappoint. But it never dazzles or challenges or truly delights. And that leaves me fairly certain that whatever Bart Simpson would say about it probably couldn't be printed in a family newspaper.

It's a remarkably sure-handed film, taking us with Shaun on a journey through alienation, anger, trepidation, ebullience and fear.

Whatever the faults of Goya's Ghosts -- and there are several -- you've got to hand it to director Milos Forman: It takes real chutzpah to cast Randy Quaid as the king of Spain.

So good at what it does that it can exhaust you: In the later going, one big number follows on the heels of another so quickly that it feels more like an opera than a regular musical.

The troubling thing about "Chuck & Larry" is the hypocrisy. It's a comedy that ridicules the people it's supposed to be championing.

This sci-fi thriller -- which is alternately nail-biting, gorgeous and a little silly -- spends most of its time throwing mechanical and human errors at the most important space mission ever.

While the subject matter is certainly American enough, it seems possible the original had a bit more depth.

Tries less to dazzle you than reel you in with competence and restraint.

Once Greene achieves fame, neither he nor the screenplay quite knows what to do; the first half-hour of Talk to Me is the most fun. But a vibrant feel for its era and a genuine affection for its characters make the whole thing a solid evocation of a time and a life worth remembering.

It's to the director's credit that despite its characters going off the deep end toward the end of the film, Time maintains its focus, setting up a mind-bending finale.

On balance, the filmmakers do a terrific job with one of the weaker stories. It's welcome news that Yates is coming back for one of the stronger ones; he's set to direct "Half-Blood Prince."

There's drama here, and moments of genuine tension, but there's fun, too, which is the point of a movie like this. To Ratliff's credit, he never lets the considerable craft get in the way.

Funny and appalling, doting and possessive, petty and selfless, raunchy and righteous, Jeannie is the pivot of the charming, garish, somewhat overwritten Australian comedy Introducing the Dwights.

Herzog's drive to bring Dengler's story to a wide audience might have paradoxically caused him to do what he seems normally to abhor: compromise.

LaBeouf is likable and grounded, two things you need from the lead in a film like this, although his female co-stars seem to have been cast based on how well their Maxim covers would sell.

An atrocious Robin Williams vehicle that might be Hollywood's first anti-romantic comedy.

Moore's movies may not always be fully accurate in their details, but they almost always spur vital national conversation.

Hilarious. And more proof that Pixar is in a class of its own.

The uneven filmmaking renders Minot's ideas impossibly trite.

Its heart is never anywhere but in the right place.

A middling contender in this summer of gigantoid sequels.

The most striking thing about it is what it's not...a richly atmospheric film that races surefootedly through complexities of data and emotion like a spy movie and not at all like a sentimental sob story.

It manages the weird feat of making a flock of sheep bounding across a meadow seem vaguely menacing.

Almost nothing that's said or done here is convincing. And the energy is set at near-coma level.

Being a fairly faithful adaptation, this version also has a lot of that other stuff about the hypocrisy of civilized life, the truthfulness of natural splendor and so forth.

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, is . . . well . . . not terrible. In fact, "Rise of the Silver Surfer" is roughly 300 percent less cringe-inducing than its predecessor.

Parents who want smart, harmless movies that don't condescend for their school-age kids -- a rare thing these days -- should be grateful for Nancy Drew.

For all its attempts at wrinkles and surprises and sleight-of-hand, Ocean's Thirteen is too direct and plain and pleased with itself to ever feel like a thriller.

A decent second chapter in the tourist horror saga.

What makes Surf's Up stand out is its look and texture.

It's not an ideal film, but it has the virtue of the ideal star, and that counts.

Like "Crumb" or "The Devil and Daniel Johnston," it's remarkably close-up moviemaking, with family secrets laid bare for all the world to see.

The script is simply shameless, taking some of the details of the Shues' lives and then slathering them with a thick layer of Hollywood frosting.

Alas, while the verbiage bubbles, the plot slogs. You feel that there's a big pile of deleted scenes waiting to appear on the DVD -- and that a good bit of what's here should have joined it. Funny is good, but it requires sharp if it's to rise to true greatness.

The movie's not good, strictly speaking, but it is kind of fun.

In I'm Reed Fish, Jay Baruchel is cast as a leading man with two attractive girlfriends, and, sorry, I'm frankly more prepared to accept Stephen Hawking as an action hero.

Dramatizes and occasionally overdramatizes Albert's 24-year career. For a while, it's a study of a decent man who puts his life into compartments so he can do terrible deeds.

Despite dancing between a story and a story within a story, something seems simple and effortless about Ten Canoes. Director Rolf de Heer and his all-Yolngu cast offer a take on tribal life that's warm, funny and powerfully alive.

The loudest, dumbest, slowest, least entertaining and most annoying by a very comfortable margin.

The weirdly earnest literalism of Besson's story is a weak point. His desire to make Angela satisfy both sides of the Madonna-whore complex is too blatant.

The first of von Trier's efforts to be certifiably farcical.

It's modestly effective at creating a mood and at critiquing both business place mores and the evils of Western hubris. But, chiefly, it's about gory scares and sniffling laughs.

Mostly connects with a fairly tight story -- even if it feels less like a movie and more like a really good episode of a "Shrek" TV series.

Plotwise, the film seems actually designed to repel logic, almost a parody of a spy film. But it's played with such verve and dash and confident flair that you'll have a grand time.

Music aside, what finally puts Once over and makes it a film you can watch more than once is its slight but thoroughly credible realism.

Charles Grodin, in his first film in a dozen years, provides some of the best moments as Sofia's dad, while Mia Farrow is kind of creepy as her mom.

I give the slight edge to the first movie because I prefer Boyle's craft to Fresnadillo's, but the action is more intense here, and I greeted the thought of a third film -- virtually assured in the closing shots -- with a little yip of "Yes!" Likely you will, too.

Fonda, playing grandmother to this clan of narcissists, is the only one who keeps her dignity. She's funny and low-key and deserves better comeback material than this and "Monster-in-Law." The other two actresses are humiliated.

The movie has "heart" in a way that doesn't feel cloying or dishonest. And the cast -- especially Janelle Schremmer -- just nails it.

This much is guaranteed: You won't leave thinking you've seen the like before.

Director Hirokazu Kore-Eda ("Maborosi") brings gentle irony to the samurai genre with Hana.... It's a winner. [4 May 2007, p.38]

If anyone could take a movie about a bunch of jerks who play poker and make it interesting, it should be Curtis Hanson. Or rather, it should have been.

The actors are all perfect and yet not. Christie, most obviously, is simply too gorgeous, even when she's meant to be rattled and lost; Pinsent is too credibly stolid; Dukakis never vanquishes an impression of sourness. These may be quibbles, but they add up.

Spider-Man 3 is a likeable film -- Maguire's personality, or Raimi's channeled through him, is genuinely charming. But the tenor of the film is too often too muted, melancholy and enervated for something of its size.

The Belgian comedy The Iceberg might be a pale shadow of the films of the great French comedian Jacques Tati, but even that's enough to qualify it as an amusing, inventive effort.

Waitress is strange and sexy and personal and wonderful -- a weird little slice of pure feeling -- and it's horrible that Shelly never got the chance to see it delight a mass audience.

At its core, the story is a Mars vs. Venus case study.

At what point does The Condemned turn from a stupid-fun action movie into something unpleasant and hypocritical?

The result is an immersive experience that never forgets the basic facts of the story but attempts with a level head and open mind to understand how in the world it might happen.

If you're willing to do the work, Triad Election pays you in tragedy.

It's smashing fun, nonetheless, made with razor wit and continual invention and far, far fresher than not only Hollywood buddy-cop movies but also Hollywood's own spoofs of them.

Sneaks up on you. At first, it plays like it might be another in a long line of dullish legal thrillers. But then, in its modest, grown-up way, it keeps getting better and better.

Solid acting, especially from the women, and a few good Colin Farrell jokes make this familiar tale better than it probably should be.

With so much potential, The Valet is disappointingly flat and wan, with few of the moments of cringe-and-laughter-inducing mortification that are Veber's stock in trade.

It is provocative, smartly made and truly independent.

It's a wonderful debut, despite all the pain you may feel watching it.

It gives me no pleasure to report that Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters is fairly excruciating to sit through -- because I'm writing this as a fan of the TV series that spawned the movie.

In a way, it's perfect: You can't imagine anyone seeing this mess and not feeling lesser for the experience.

Joins the growing list of blandly made erotic thrillers that contain no eroticism, few thrills and fewer likable characters.

A bloodless film that aims for wry but leaves you merely asking "why?"

A rough little comedy of tone. White, making his directorial debut, asks if the search for self is still heroic when the discoveries are unpleasant.

It's inconsistent fun, and it's a little too layered with self-congratulatory irony to be truly transporting.

It's all polished and slick and credible, but it never truly engages. Perhaps it's because Irving's story is well-known; perhaps it's because of the script's repetitions and tangents; or perhaps it's simply because Hallstrom himself is ambivalent about his protagonist.

Weaver is hilarious and horrifying.

The storytelling -- the script is co-written by Verhoeven's old collaborator Gerard Soeteman -- is messy, and the result never feels real or human or vital.

Also fun: tiny characters such as Jimmy's surprisingly helpful stalker (Nick Swardson); the film's final moments, which owe more than a little to "Grease"; and the skating costumes, which take their influence from such cultural touchstones as "Tron."

If you enjoyed any of Frank's previous work, or thought "Brick" was the bomb, you'll love this.

It's a riveting character study/soap opera.

Having heard tell of its wonders for decades, I found the actual movie less transporting than I'd been led to expect. It's clearly a brilliant debut.

The film has about five endings, each sillier than the next. Before it's over, the business end of that sniper rifle looks kind of inviting.

The good news is that this movie is no "Spanglish;" the bad news is that Sandler's performance is actually better than the material deserves.

There are occasional moments of wisdom, drama and emotion, but we never quite forget the blunt confession of one of the founders of the world championship, who admits that the whole thing began as a joke. Psst, buddy: it still is.

If you approach First Snow as a straight thriller, it's not terribly satisfying.

Within this simple structure, Panahi manages at once to celebrate and critique his nation's passions, sexual politics, sporting heritage, laws, morality and class system. It's a fictional feature but, like many Iranian films, it feels uncannily real, particularly in its final rousing minutes.

Chris Rock probably has a solid writer/director effort in him. This isn't it.

There are moments that stir, and it's always lovely, but it's generally too remote to gain hold of you truly.