The clothes are worth it; nothing else is.

For those unschooled in Latin jazz, though, it might be best to just pick up the CD.

It's a film with a silly story, and it's been dubbed laughably into English. Yet it's a transporting bit of fluff, full of zest, miraculous physicality and cheeky humor.

A work of incompleteness, might-have-beens and moral subtleties befitting a filmmaker named Gray.

Feels more TV movie-of-the-week than Oscar contender.

Bad comedy.

An exquisite, ecstatic film, crude in its characterizations and plotting, yes, but extraordinary in its capacity for elation and its hard-earned sentimentality.

It's merely a by-the-numbers coming-of-age film

Fails to be resonant and, more important, scary.

A sense of claustrophobia emerges, increases and colonizes the film.

A spare, internally emotional movie like One requires something called screen presence. Its two leads have it.

An assured and gripping political drama filled with remarkable performances and razor-sharp writing and editing.

If the film doesn't touch the original, it doesn't hit rock bottom, either.

A tender and affirmative movie, if never a transporting one.

A funny and sometimes substantial movie that in real life would never have a happy ending.

Burstyn is astonishing, forsaking all vanity to make silly biddy Sara a fully dimensioned human being.

Rodriguez, who never acted before auditioning for the director, is utterly convincing, fluid and determined and jaded and wild like any teen-ager, but with a bracing spirit and a shocking store of ferocity.

This little serio-comedy contains absolutely nothing that warrants big-screen release. It's lit like TV, acted like TV and staged like TV.

An unforgettable movie with a message that is likely to add wrinkles to your conception of what it means to be a good steward of the Earth.

You will be surprised by the film's poignancy when the winner is announced. You may even get choked up. You will care that much.

Awfully sloppy entertainment, built on a script with only a glancing acquaintance with logic, filled with uneven performances and staged with a near-amateur touch for comedy.

Ought to win a prize for sheer audacity.

When it all comes to a head, what seems ordinary blossoms into something deeply complex and emotional.

Plods and frustrates, but forgivably, it is a deeply felt picture.

A genial and watchable film.

A film in which barbs of wit, anger and grief continually prick at you.

To be fair, there are moments when the film seems better than, finally, it is.

Perhaps the most disturbing fact in the film comes in the text at the end: Paragraph 175 remained on the books in both halves of postwar Germany until the late 1960s.

One lucky guy, on a roll with rock.

A movie that drags.

A tough picture to wrap your brain around.

It's a nicely tart gulp of grown-up wit and cynicism -- with, for a change, a cherry on top.

A caustic, raunchy, often hilarious examination of how men use women.

Little spectacle but much bittersweet sensitivity.

Packs the power to make you see at least a few corners of the world in a new and bracing light.

The newest, and probably first, true cheerleading movie.

Beautifully acted, the film is touchingly human and, thankfully, devoid of any vapid, ironic kitsch.

An unfortunate example of a small picture that feels small.

Makes a fine primer on one of today's most intriguingly creative and surreptitiously popular acts.

There's nothing worse than a sub-par Woody Allen knockoff.

Drowns in flat, clumsy and obvious direction.

Long and slow, granted, but it's so peppered with moments of realism and nuanced craft that it continually rewards careful viewing.

Racy, obscene, spirited and infectious.

Something of an unforgettable experience.

Amusing, funny (intentionally and unintentionally -- it's dubbed, so many lines come out ludicrous) and, by the ending, exciting.

A forehead-poundingly bad picture.

For good and ill, there is only one John Waters.

A movie so lame that Keanu Reeves lends it gravity with his mere presence.

Studded with sturdy acting.

It's a first love story that goes beyond many simplistic notions as to why people fall for one another. If it weren't true, no one would believe it.

The picture is Logue's entirely, and without him, it might not be worth a visit.

A sweet, loopy British comedy filled with good actors and funny moments.

The little film is made uniquely engaging by the performance of its young star, Chris Marquette.

Never maintains the spark necessary to sustain a feature film.

An affable, entertaining and poignant experience of the sort not normally afforded by space movies.

A special-effects-and-chase-to-the-death movie, with little special about it.

An annoying, unclever, unlikable movie.

It's a film of sneaky power, peculiar delights and, finally, the ability to dazzle.

Though Michael Winterbottom's Wonderland appears as gritty as they come, it uncommonly has a romantic heart.

An ugly and insipid film.

The script is atypically bland for Heckerling.

A hilarious, sad and sometimes-inspiring documentary directed by Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, the film is an all-out Tammy valentine -- campy, dramatic and, of course, makeup-smeared. And better than any melodrama you'll see this year.

Eventually becomes tedious.

As it unwinds, What Lies becomes both masterful and preposterous.

But the human elements -- jealousy, anger, weakness, fortitude, loyalty, vengeance and honor, all acted out by a resolutely realistic cast -- make the movie extraordinary.

It's a lovely film that suffers from an overdetermined structure and a reliance on a sensationalized plot line that, quixotically, is ignored for long periods of time.

Loaded with fine performances, traffics in audacious images and generally comports itself with a great deal more grace and gravitas than most movies with roots in fantastic themes.

A flawed fable but an intriguing one nonetheless. It's "Splash" gone existential. How many films can you name like that?

For a picture about a stalker, Chuck and Buck is rather sweet, funny and winning.

She (Cho) can tell a joke, mimic, offer commentary, play cute, play ugly and be so hilariously absurd that tears will run down your cheeks.

A lovely film that requires a leisurely sit to think, Shower is not so much a shower as a bath, and a refreshing one at that.

Though no classic, the concept is a clever one.

Gross, sophomoric, offensive, nasty, cheap and mean -- and so funny again and again that you plumb near forget all that's reprehensible about it.

The stick-figure people in the script haven't the slightest chance of making an impression, and you're more excited at the prospect of the next big wave?

The liveliest thing here is the keen sense of regret you feel at seeing two TV icons reduced to supporting characters in a lame movie that trades on their good names.

A movie built on one joke -- an old one -- and an incoherent, even idiotic plot.

Seems likely to stir rebuttal from historians, especially those on the other side of the pond.

While they've managed to make a funny movie, they haven't made a great comedy.

It's a purely winning film.

An impressive array of themes, stories and sequences.

(If) you're one of those killjoys who demands logic, coherence and a semblance of human life from a movie, this one will leave you cold.

If the result doesn't make dazzling watching, it nonetheless has the power to haunt.

Once you lose yourself in Ruiz's stunning achievement -- a wonderfully acted, beautifully realized vision of Proust -- you'll be enchanted.

It's a heap of contradictions that will leave your head spinning.

Frustrating, tedious and yet often compelling.

The film isn't terrible, it's just trying too hard.

Groove seems to be less about what it is chronicling than what its attempting to decipher.

So filled with riches that it seems a bit unfair to single out Szabo and Fiennes, no matter how outstanding their work.

An atrocity exhibition from start to finish.

Entertaining, disturbing, sad, outrageous and often hilarious.

A tepid disappointment that contains one mediocre chase scene and a lot of wasted talent.

So heavy-handed and blatant in its posturings and so incomplete at 73 minutes that you simply feel like you've been harangued more than educated.

The film is still a wonderful lark filled with an ingredient most summer blockbusters lack -- likability.

So tedious that the experience results in nearly two hours of squirming and cringing.

It is off-putting at first, then refreshing, then downright touching. In short, it works.

Never dull visually, but it's certainly monomaniacal and heartless thematically.

Moves with terrific energy, alternating riveting action sequences with intimate material in a manner that's pure Woo.

If you've seen more films in your life than you have fingers, much of it will be forgotten by the time you floss the last popcorn skin from between your teeth.