Weitz does it again here, turning what could have been another manifesto of liberal guilt into a genuinely moving tale of a father and son banding together in a hostile world.

The character who emerges in the breezy, somewhat meandering Buck is plain-spoken, heartfelt, compassionate, witty, and wise. His horse-training technique is based on understanding the psychology of animals and on attuning his human and equine clients with one another.

In comparison to others who struggle against real travails (the young Buck Brannaman, say), he (O'Brien) seems spoilt, entitled, impatient, shrill and mean.

But if it's going to be diet Pixar, at least it's action-packed diet Pixar -- with overwhelming, detail-choked production design that occasionally had my jaw lowering like a forklift.

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.

The Trip doesn't really go anywhere you didn't see it heading, but it's worth the journey.

The result is as much a revelation of the artist's craft as it is of the man's heart and mind.

An extraordinary thing, and one that I shall likely esteem for a long time. Philosophically, though, it's still mired in the primordial ooze in a way that will, I suspect, forever make me hold it at arm's length.

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.

It's spirited and funny and deeply entertaining, a summer movie for kids who think like adults and adults who feel like kids.

The message here is vital, though, and Siegel retains the gift of making you dream of making a difference.

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.

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.

It may not be the most memorable saga put on film, but as far as Miike is concerned, it doesn't have to be.

Allen's filmmaking technique isn't what it once was, true. But at age 75 he still manages to keep a spry pace going even if something less than impeccable craft hobbles the photography and editing.

The delicacy of the film might frustrate some audiences. As if watching a listless young relative do nothing in particular with his or her life, you sometimes want to shake these folks by the shoulders and tell them to get in gear. But then you realize that life has many gears and that moving slowly and somewhat aimlessly is no sin.

The chief thing he (Susser) has going for him is Gordon-Levitt, whose intense immersion in his overwritten character is laudable if the result isn't exactly likeable.

Kung Fu 2 does almost NOTHING to advance the story, to deepen the characters, or to charm, amuse or entertain.

It's not that Hangover II is a notably bad movie. It's more that nothing in it seems to justify all the effort spent to add a new but nearly identical series of episodes to the original.

Incendies was likely a crackling thing to read, but it's not quite so vivid as a finished film.

There's plenty of blood and screaming and mayhem, and it's not particularly well-staged, shot or cut -- though I suppose actually caring about film craft denotes one as a spoilsport in this context.

The film feels superficial even for something set in the fashion world, and after chronicling Sassoon's unlikely ascent, it all starts to feel air-kissy and fluffy. There is a great story here, though, and Sassoon is undeniably inspirational.

Surprisingly dull.

At once breezy and substantial, but it could have been more powerful if it were, paradoxically, sharper and blunter.

The storyline would appear trite and the message muddled even to someone who'd never heard the name Mel Gibson.

It's lovely, truly, but so heavy-handed and slipshod that it's probably best enjoyed with the sound off -- an option they're not likely to offer at the movie theater.

It starts as clever, but it ends in real feeling.

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