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

Meeting at the intersection of cinema, history and ethnomusicology.

It's not that Bogdanovich's movie doesn't have its laughs. It does. Frayn has a comic genius that is expansive -- he can pile one-liners, character humor and physical schtick on top of one another quickly and deftly. And the cast Bogdanovich has assembled, led by Michael Caine as the embattled director, is up to the demands. But a film version of a play about making a play? That's a step removed. It's a blanket that muffles the crispness of the play. A bridge too far. The mediation of the screen between us and the play about a play is unnecessary at best and a real bother at worst. [23 March 1992, p.C08]

As usual, the director is a wizard at camera movement and more than willing to plunge his audience into unpleasantness.

Digitally shot, the film looks great, and the performances ooze charisma. The biggest star, though, may be Kinshasa itself, a roiling, barely cohesive sea of humanity that seems as if it could serve as a backdrop for some fascinating films for years to come.

Eventually the chemistry between Collette and Church wins out, and Lucky Them makes for a diverting, if forgettable, romantic comedy.

Weaver is hilarious and horrifying.

Moncrieff manages to get beneath the skin of several of these characters, a nifty trick considering what a crowded world she's created. In all, it's a grueling, emotionally taxing, discomfiting film.

If you loved his (Gilliam) older work -- and if you can stand the twinge of pain that beholding the lamented Ledger will surely evoke -- it’s worth a visit.

This being an Italian film, and Gianni being such a hapless, kindhearted aspiring Lothario, make this perhaps the sweetest movie ever made about a guy trying to cheat on his wife.

A movie that tells -- or rather, circles -- the story of the band's formation and abortive career.

Makes the case that Fischer's chess prowess and his mental illness were inextricable. The chess fed the paranoia which supported the chess which drove Fischer deeper into madness, and so on.

Slow, contrived and monotonously grim. [18 Aug 2006, p.45]

The movie's pretty good, occasionally very good. But I also kind of hope they don't make another one.

Salt is hooey, but in a medium in which hooey is the stock-in-trade, it's effective hooey, and hooey with admirable craft, and, most of all, breezy hooey.

That "The Hunger Games" movies lost momentum is hardly a surprise: even "Star Wars" and "The Lord of the Rings" slipped after the second installment. The end feels like a relief for all concerned, and it does feel like the end.

Carrey fearlessly gives it his best shot, but this fundamental schizophrenia strong-armed me out of the film, and left me feeling like McGregor's more grounded performance existed in another movie entirely.

Whereas Carver writes about alcoholics, this movie is about alcoholism, which is completely different.

You get to know each person just well enough to compare them, allowing you to judge as you like; the film, nicely, refrains from moralizing.

A fascinating blend of brand extension and corporate history.

Fassbender plays Magneto as a supercool assassin with a completely understandable set of beefs. I spent most of the movie rooting for him, and would watch a "Magneto, 1960s Nazi Hunter" sequel in a second.

It's a shame The Matador isn't a better movie, because this semi-dark comedy contains one great, cackling, self-loathing performance by Pierce Brosnan.

A tough picture to wrap your brain around.

Dick works best as a catalog of style: It's the story and the acting that are the window dressing.

Richly frightening film.

It's the screenwriting equivalent of those fat substitutes used by snack food manufacturers: the finished product looks all right but the taste is off, and the aftereffects are embarrassing and uncomfortable.

An audaciously unique and exciting film, not as successful as an A-to-Z story as it is mind-expanding as a vision of what the cinema can do.

Paradise: Love, the first in a thematic trilogy, is a sad story about the difficulty individuals face when trying to establish relationships across vast cultural and economic gulfs.