These three central performances, and a solid script by Anders Thomas Jensen and director Susanne Bier, ground a potentially overwrought story in genuine feeling.

Giamatti, in fact, makes off with a few scenes as the literally mustache-twirling antagonist, providing some welcome moments of over-the-top levity.

I just wish the movie wasn't also so monologue-choked, muted to a fault and fond of oversimplifying financial lingo to the point of meaninglessness.

A brilliantly flinty movie about writers angry at the world for failing to live up to their standards and recognize their genius.

Genuinely breathtaking.

The film does a lovely job of balancing emotional clarity, formal trickery, pop sweetness, and heartfelt narrative. It is, yes, cute, and it is, yes, quirky. And it is entirely justified, estimable and loveable in being those things.

Refreshing and disorienting movie.

Campbell Scott and Hope Davis, both of whom work with such subtlety and depth, rescue the film from Rudolph's seemingly native inability to keep it steadily on course.

It is full of the farcical, irresponsible, sometimes outrageous things kids can do -- especially in a raunchy comedy. At the same time, House Party is an uncompromising, un-footnoted slice of black American life. In a way it is like "The Godfather," so immersed in the ethnic world it depicts that it is almost a foreign film. [23 Mar 1990, p.R11]

Politics aside, Obvious Child hinges on Slate's performance, which is endearing and real.

It may not be a great movie, but the acting in it is amazing.

It would've been nice to hear Robinson or Wonder reciprocate the affection of the band, and it would've been even more interesting to hear Gordy try to defend himself -- as if he could.

The result is both a captivating history lesson and a tense intellectual thriller that dares to ask big questions about creativity and technology.

Director Donald Siegel of ``Dirty Harry'' fame produces a suspenseful, fast-paced suspenser, film, providing numerous offbeat twists and turns along the way. [08 Nov 1996, p.37]

Spoofing the pernicious effects of television, especially the so-called reality genre, doesn't require pinpoint aim, and at times Luciano seems as much a target of ridicule as the superficial, oversexed entertainment served up on the tube.

The languid, observational style of director Julia Loktev will frustrate those expecting stuff to, like, happen more, but it has its real rewards.

Superbly acted in Cassavetes-style naturalism; but only for those who can take strong stuff. [06 Mar 1998, p.26]

The tone -- deadpan, wistful, silly but never stupid -- is just right and puts What We Do in the Shadows next to "This Is Spinal Tap" as a mockumentary that shows its subjects as human -- in this case, inhuman -- in their hopes and fears.

The result is a gripping film about a subject almost too good to be true.

Because nothing says 'holiday fun' quite like an intellectual struggle between Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung peppered with a few vivid episodes of S-&-M sex, voila A Dangerous Method.

Viewers engulfed by the movie's intense romance and spectacular action could leave the theater exhausted. But it's a good ride: The Last of the Mohicans creates its own vibrant world, hurling audiences into it and allowing no relief from the excitement until the end. [25 Sep 1992, p.13]

This impressive film feels more like a display, if an often dazzling one, than a genuine experience.

The spirits of Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer are alive and well in the Southern-fried coming-of-age tale Mud. It's got all the ingredients.

Gyllenhaal is in almost every frame of writer-director Dan Gilroy's first feature, skinny and wide-eyed, running down a driveway with his camera or cutting across oncoming traffic in the Challenger. It's an intense performance, the flip side of Ryan Gosling's in "Drive," playing the angles and filling space with empty words instead of soulful silences.

Lawrence steps up. And her character's fierce independence provides a welcome alternative to certain vampire-fixated young-adult heroines who define themselves entirely through the attention of much-much-older men.

Lee Marvin does the best acting of his life as Hickey, the usual life of the party who shows up this year sober and intent on ridding his drunken pals of their "pipe dreams." [04 Apr 2003]

Submarine pulls off a nice little feat: It's a reference-heavy coming-of-age indie flick that feels fresh despite being, well, a reference-heavy coming-of-age indie flick.

Filled with nasty, nasty stuff.

Throughout, Sophie exhibits the quality common to all of history's great martyrs, a preternatural calmness that perseveres despite (or perhaps because of) the inevitability of her doom.

Seems deeply influenced by American film noir, the Western fairy tale (in this case, mermaids) and the works of Alfred Hitchcock in particular.

It's a refreshing sensation, even if it makes you feel a touch seasick at first, and the fittingly eerie conclusion to a lavish and unsettling movie.

Neither the social commentary nor the story ever overpower the other, a feat that allows this remake to stand proudly alongside the original, its equal in every way.

Overall, though, the combination of Gondry’s whimsicality and Chomsky’s stoicism creates fascinating oil-and-water patterns that reveal more the longer they’re contemplated.

Why would you watch a film about a creep like Greenberg? Well, aside from the fact that it’s well-done and intense and occasionally funny (in a dark, dark way, mind you), there’s the sneaking suspicion that there’s a little of this fellow in all of us, and self-knowledge of that sort is a gift that, often, only art can give.

Among the many documentaries about the Iraq war, this one stands our for its intelligence, variety and measured emotionalism. [06 Apr 2007, p.26]

Though it's handsomely made and peppered with seamlessly achieved visual glories, Narnia is ineptly acted, crudely staged and burdened with a score that only a masochist could love.

A rousing and agreeable movie that resurrects a small but important episode in baseball history that parallels the larger history of the nation.

Watching the teachers whip these kids into Wilder recitations is especially intriguing, particularly when their personalities come out during the sometimes-arduous process.

Bouncing giddily from subplot to subplot and wisecrack to wisecrack, Mamet and company (and this is one of the truest ensemble works in years) satirize the slippery morals of the film racket and the surface-only decency of small town America.

Mistress America is a different kind of channeling, straight through the screwball comedies of the 1980s, "After Hours" and "Something Wild," back to "Bringing Up Baby," where Katharine Hepburn sang "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" to a leopard while Cary Grant looked for the last bone (the intercostal clavicle) for his Brontosaurus skeleton.

If Young at Heart were merely a cheeky presentation of codgers belting out inappropriate tunes, it would be a curiosity and nothing more. But by getting inside the lives of a few of its members, the movie ultimately paints a moving portrait of senior citizens who believe it's better to burn out than fade away.

The funny and powerfully weird Rango is probably the closest I've seen a big-budget, computer-animated feature get to the comic vibe of my favorite Chuck Jones cartoons -- specifically, the Bugs/Porky Western spoof "Drip-Along Daffy."

Packed with more intrigue and excitement than one might expect.

This is a first-class film that will appeal to anyone who wants to see a plausible, witty, absorbing human story told well -- indeed, told gorgeously.

In an unassuming way, the film sizzles -- a perfect embodiment, as it happens, of the marriage of the bad man and the man of letters.

That the audience is forced to examine its own assumptions about the situation is the result of an extraordinary, moving performance by Andrew Garfield.

Director Sini Anderson compiles interviews with Hanna and her husband, Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz, as well as archival footage, into an admiring portrait of a sometimes combative figure.

The film sometimes feels like the kid brother of “Fog of War,” Errol Morris’s far more compelling account of the mind of Robert McNamara, Ellsberg’s one-time boss. There’s reality and depth here, but a chill, too, that the filmmaking never quite manages to melt.

It's a topic that's been handled in films before, perhaps most notably in Jane Campion's "Holy Smoke," but Durkin offers the most persuasively believable peek into the psyche of such a character I've ever seen.

A second helping of a satisfying dish.

If Leo's situation seems like a typical opening gambit by the director of "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" and "Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!", little else in this tight, quiet, razor-sharp film will feel familiar. [12 Apr 1996]

About how women see themselves in terms of bodies, age and careers, but without all the "you go girl" tripe crammed into so many other movies of this ilk.

The picture is pinched and predictable. Even with the immensely talented Steve Zahn, an actor who's known to steal scenes and, sometimes, save pictures, the movie is a yawn.

This story could take place anywhere there are families struggling to remake themselves in the aftermath of tragedy; its universality is perhaps the most potent political message of all.

It's not a question of Lucas' right to revamp his own work -- the movie simply was much better without these absurd additions.

Just when you think all the great rock and roll stories have been told, along comes Lambert & Stamp.

A terrific midnight movie of the future -- a tough, funny, fast-moving and tightly constructed John Carpenter riff in which a bickering group fights a pack of space monsters in and around a single location.

At a full three hours, the movie flirts with wearing out its welcome about two-thirds through, but recovers to end up an exhausting, operatic black comedy that leaves you wanting more.

Sweet Land brushes against the true spirit of American independent cinema.

A gentle movie with heart, spirit and wit.

Beautifully shot and cut, written with a visceral aversion to cliche, deftly skirting sentimentality, sensationalism and simplicity, it continually surprises, engages and satisfies. For a small, unheralded film, it's a knockout.

Schepisi and his cast rate great credit for making it seem so real. True stories don't always seem credible on film. Making this seem real and life-size is an accomplishment. [13 Nov 1988, p.F05]

Heaven Knows What is a hard movie to recommend because of its unrelenting intensity and hideously depressing subject. It's a hard movie, period, but it's exceptionally well-made and beautiful in its execution.

The juxtapositions can be beautiful: haunting music played over a water-streaked windshield, a deaf student awakening to the "feeling" of sound, Glennie staring ferociously at a gong as she extracts its vibrations.

Icy and elegant, complex and gripping.

The humor isn't as sharp as it should be, and the story isn't as tight as it could be.

Has many affecting moments, but you may tire of the tugging on your heart strings.

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

This multistoried historical plot is packed with almost three hours of nuances and hidden meanings, and the slippery smiles and sly innuendoes often seem lost in translation.

Privy to virtually all phases of the debacle, the filmmakers have created the behind-the-camera equivalent of a slo-mo crash test.

Slight but terrific. The intertwining of the sharply tuned actors and the guileless (and often hilarious) townspeople is seamless, the tale is sometimes despairing but never heavy, and the blend of drama, comedy and music is brisk and fresh.

Bridesmaids follows the lead of other Apatow productions and finds much of its comedy in pain, horrifying awkwardness and the difficult work that goes into building and maintaining relationships. If you liked this in "Knocked Up," you'll probably like it here.

Fiennes and screenwriter Abi Morgan deserve credit for crafting something more nuanced than a mere scandal-airing demonization.

You can find movies with better scripts, direction, acting, songs, and jokes than The Muppets -- but you won't find one that's nearly so much fun.

Like Brad Pitt and Robert Redford, Gere's good looks have made it hard sometimes to recognize his acting ability, but it's on full display here in what is anything but a vanity project.

The movie, like the man, seems more interested in spreading the gospel of environmental responsibility, and in doing so it's probably the most important film of the year.

Unpretentiously fantastic.

Working toward its refreshingly light but utterly apt ending, the film teems with insights into the human condition revealed by an unusually smart script and a wonderfully committed cast. It's a truly fine work.

Medal prediction: The green guy is golden.

What really separates Zatoichi from a run-of-the-mill action pic is the sense of humor -- and even more than that, the sense of fun -- that Kitano brings to it.

Park is a visual virtuoso, with imaginative transitions and clever use of special effects wrapped around a sly, effective performance from Lee at the center of it all.

In their best moments, Hark's action movies have a what-did-I-just-see giddiness, as if their choreography were springing straight from a cartoon id. Though I could have done without much of the film's CGI-heavy fakery, "Detective Dee" finds that giddiness more than a few times.

I'll See You in My Dreams takes its time getting to unexpected places and makes you glad to follow along.

Slowly, inexorably and fascinatingly, Jean de Florette glides to a seemingly inevitable ending -- and to scenes of the next installment. [14 Sep 1987, p.C05]

Some of the combat scenes work, including a kitchen-set hand-to-hand battle that's one of the movie's highlights, but more often they feel superfluous at best.

A worthy and compelling look at a unique and essentially American figure.

The movie's centerpiece and peak is the operation itself, which Reichardt depicts with the pulse-pounding patience of a classic heist sequence like that in "Rififi."

Crude is only a progress report of a case that might last until well into the decade, the sordid details of which are still, pardon the pun, spilling out.

It's charming, funny, exceedingly well-made and features enough comically thrilling flying-lizard mayhem to cause your child's head to lightly explode.

By the time the satisfying conclusion rolls around, though, it proves to be much more about the ability of a world-class director to induce such willing suspension of disbelief that even the loopiest narrative developments seem like the most natural thing in the world.

Behind the on-field shenanigans and eccentric personalities, there's a meatier story about the corporatization of sports and the disappearance of the barnstorming attitude Bing Russell took as a virtual religion.

It's quite possible that Titanic is one of the greatest romantic epics ever filmed.

The result is a rare and precious work. The Motorcycle Diaries is an epic road movie with everything you'd want from such a film: laughs, kicks, adventures, pathos, poetry, natural beauty, strange encounters and friendship tested and strengthened.

That this is a documentary, this family lived in New York for decades in almost complete separation from its neighbors, is astonishing.

Like "In the Bedroom," the film is studded with brilliant acting, and it's all rendered with gorgeously fluent technique. The result is a film that skirts cruelty and easy satire for deep, troubling realities -- a nearly thorough triumph, in short.

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

For fans of Monk's music, the film is a must-see. [20 Jan 1990, p.C09]

Hers is a sad story, but the fact that she never received recognition during her lifetime isn't part of its sadness.