A fascinating experiment in both filmmaking technology and narrative style, but one that can be counted a success only in limited ways.

The story is slight and somewhat less than engaging, despite nice supporting turns from Emily Blunt and Ricky Jay.

The result is a film that's more credible in its building blocks than in its whole.

It's energetic and occasionally inspired. Its gritty, sweaty, shiny feel deepens the case that there's a vital new essence to Brazilian cinema.

World War Z manages to be scary without descending to in-your-face gore -- it wants to frighten its audience, not disgust them.

The always thin tightrope between "laughing at" and "laughing with" is negotiated with success in the low-budget comedy The Foot Fist Way.

Understated fun, but not much more.

There's something refreshingly and truly girlish about the picture's musings and epiphanies that makes its R rating baffling.

They say that history is written by the winners. Well, this is the story of Saint Laurent as told by his surviving partner. And it's, oddly, less about the man than about his things.

In "Upside" Allen's marble face acts as the pressure-cooker lid on a hilarious hissy fit.

For all the flash and sparkle, there's little heat. The Dreamers wants to be "First Tango in Paris." It's more like "Last Tango Under Glass."

The message is troweled on far too thickly at the end, but up to then, Robinson raises legitimate issues with a lively, sardonic and inventive sense of humor. [15 Jul 1989, p.C08]

Laggies doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it puts an engaging spin on the old canard about high school being the best years of our lives.

The film suffers slightly from diminishing returns -- its first third is by far its scariest -- but it's still a bold, artful take on a popular horror idea.

Nothing more and nothing less than a savvy and talented cast having its way with a clever, hilarious script, with absolutely no weighty issues at stake.

Papale's story is more than any fan could dream of, which is why it's frustrating that Invincible feels the need to embellish it. While mentioning he never played football in college, the film ignores that he did play in a semipro league prior to his Eagles tryout.

Suffers by invoking better films about similar themes.

Atmospheric, absorbing and completely in the control of the man who made it -- unlike, especially, “Bringing Out the Dead,” which it sometimes resembles.

The cinematography is crisp but sterile, and no one's clothes ever seem to get muddy or torn -- in short, there's no real sense of the atmosphere of a sticky, buggy, fetid jungle, and no intensity to a story that cries out for a sense of moral outrage.

Ultimately, ATL is the same old teenager angst in a mildly novel package.

It’s not earth-shaking, but it’s diverting and polished.

It's jaunty and bright, but Pray never gets under the skin of things or ever truly questions the essence of advertising as an art or trade.

With his periodic porn-star mustache, shaggy hair and reckless demeanor, the movie Stander embodies a certain brand of brooding outlaw cool that feels increasingly rare.

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.

The moments of accidental sweetness that emerge from these odd, ultra-lives are meltingly funny and touching.

V for Vendetta puts its ideological intent first, and happens to provide smashing entertainment only as a vehicle for delivering its message.

It's solidly entertaining, with Downey's roguish charm as appealing as ever.

While Coulter and company try gamely to forge two powerful stories, they manage, finally, about one-and-a-half -- which is a lot more than most films, and for which moviegoers should be grateful.