The Killer Inside Me isn’t for everyone, and even some people who think it’s their sort of thing might be offended. But it’s too well made to dismiss outright for its twisted cruelty. Maybe that’s a compliment, maybe not.

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

Thought-provoking, making this a solid date movie science geeks and philosophy freaks alike.

What Johansson does in Lucy won't win her any prizes, but it establishes her ability to carry a movie that has some ideas, however half-baked, and has nothing to do with her obvious sex appeal.

As usual in Le Carre's world (and the real one), a measured, rational approach faces an uphill battle against the philistines who really run the show. That predictably weary attitude is both the best — as embodied in Hoffman's performance — and worst — in its weary predictability — things about A Most Wanted Man.

The revelation is Arquette. While the focus is on Coltrane and how he grew up onscreen, it's Arquette that's at the center of this incredible journey. She puts herself out there year after year, getting knocked down and getting up stronger. Her final scenes have the power and heartbreak every parent knows -- it's all about holding a child's hand, then letting it go.

It's not as if empathetic peeks into the lives of America's poor white boys aren't valuable, and Hellion has nothing if not empathy for every one of its characters. But without a more original story or a distinctive visual presence, it's hard for it to rise above a crowded field.

Its director, Rob Reiner, is 67 himself. So his film takes a less ageist tone, seeing its characters – played by Michael Douglas, 69, and Diane Keaton, 68 – not as old people but simply as people, living vital but complicated lives. If only the movie itself were as vital and complicated.

Citizen Koch doesn't have a narrator, and that's fine, but it tosses out a lot of information and doesn't pull it into a compelling movie.

This sequel, thankfully, is faster paced, and has more action.

In the end, Sex Tape doesn't seduce, doesn't surprise and certainly doesn't satisfy. It only leaves you feeling a little taken advantaged of, as you take your walk of shame back to your car – and hoping you never hear from it again.

Christensen, who played the James Bond villain Mr. White in "Casino Royale" and "Quantum of Solace," cuts a striking, white-haired figure as Segerstedt, whose principled tirades against Hitler ultimately earn him the enmity of his prime minster and even his king.

I came away impressed at how Haggis made something original and real.

The apes and the special effects team are the real stars of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.

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.

If Rod Serling had hired Robert Altman to direct a "Twilight Zone" episode, it might have turned out something like this.

It's all clichéd, of course, and has been since "The Exorcist" but it's still effective, perhaps more so with anyone who, like our hero cop, comes from the world of scented smoke and altar boys.

Grating attempt at comedy, the latest failed attempt to capitalize on McCarthy's considerable charm.

Anyone who shares Ebert's love of movies and who followed his career will be exceptionally moved by Life Itself, but anyone who appreciates a well-lived life should be touched as well.

It's not particularly logical and it's not particularly fun. As deliberately amateur as the herky-jerky photography is, the rest of the film isn't much more professional.

The problem is the song. It was gone as soon as it ended, a forgettable piece of soft-pop that was never going to be a hit, whatever the arrangement or the singer.

Junger smartly lets each individual be himself. Korengal seeks understanding, not judgment.

The bi-culturalism actually is kind of fitting. Asia sends us their junk as toys. We repurpose that junk and send it back as movies. See? Recyling. Everybody wins. Except audiences.

Once the quartet makes it big, things get predictable really fast. Eastwood seems to forget that audiences made The Jersey Boys a touring sensation because they love the songs, not because they want to see yet another "Behind the Music"-style tale of fame and fortune not being all they're cracked up to be.

This is the sort of film that only makes sense as a rental, with, perhaps, a couple of friends and a very generously mixed pitcher of margaritas.

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

Like its 2010 predecessor, it's one of the most gorgeous computer-animated kids' films you'll come across, and one of the few that uses 3-D smartly and effectively.

Just think back to everything that was funny in "21 Jump Street." It's exactly the same.