It is, in a way, the first glimpse of the cinema, right there at the dawn of humankind. And it is utterly remarkable to see.

Thor meets the elevated expectations for superhero movies today, but doesn't exceed them. There's some sloppy plotting, which always shows a certain disregard for the audience's intelligence.

It's clear that Weerasethakul knows exactly what he wants to do and that he does it in his own way. And that's why his film, even if it can't be recommended to everyone, blossoms inside you the longer you allow it to.

The acting is superb across the board, and the film moves dreamily yet with razor-sharp precision, building to a sequence of deeply felt climaxes.

Even though Spurlock, a totally likeable Everyman, is in the middle of it at all times, "PWPTGMES" never feels like the work of, oh, Michael Moore.

There's pleasure to be found in the resolute offbeatness of Henry's Crime. It's nearly as concerned with the play as it is with the heist (and with drawing parallels between the two).

The combination of immediacy and intimacy in Armadillo is exceedingly rare.

It's great to see The Rock re-embracing the action genre, and when his clobbering match with Diesel finally happens, it's as outlandishly room-wrecking as I'd hoped.

This isn't at the same level of quality as Yen's "Ip Man 2," which played earlier this year and was one of the best martial arts movies in a long time. But it is entertaining, even if it does ask you to suspend boatloads of disbelief.

If this sounds like cheesy melodrama, that's exactly how director Francois Ozon ("Swimming Pool," "8 Women") wants it.

Like the bits of home life its pioneers have brought with them to an alien landscape, the careful craft grounds the film in a reality that is as much felt as it is observed.

The film is as one-sided and overstacked as anything her prosecutors dreamed up. And the craft of the thing is so pedestrian as to crawl.

There simply isn't enough footage of their protagonist just being Bill Hicks the guy and not Bill Hicks the comic. Surely he had some interviews or other artifacts they could have used along with all the comedy routines.

Director Martin Koolhoven doesn't take many narrative chances, but the somber, steely cinematography and convincing performances help to carry the day.

Rubber is engaging, brisk and smart enough that the audience wins, too. It's grand, mindless fun that makes a thoughtful point.

I suspect audiences will divide sharply on the movie's wild tone shifts. I found them sort of fearless.

There's some great fun in the film, and a bit of unexpected wit, and lots of action, much of it ludicrous but some quite engaging.

A mental workout of the most invigorating sort.

That cast is precisely what makes the new Arthur so frustrating.

A gentle movie with heart, spirit and wit.

This is hair-raising, clever and winning entertainment. Even if his protagonists aren't entirely what they seem to be or think they are, Mr. Jones is, it's increasingly clear, the real thing.

Ultimately, the story can be seen as the collision of two equally uncompromising belief systems, each its own form of fundamentalism. That neither benefits from the encounter should come as no surprise to anyone with the slightest knowledge of human history.

It's a film that's at once too much and not enough, laughable and groovy, dead serious and a total joke. And I mean no disrespect by any of that.

Is it dreary, stingy and strained? Well, yes: it's Jane Eyre, after all. But it's also robust and full-blooded and forceful: it's Jane Eyre, after all.

It's certainly all Araki up there, and the film is handsome and swiftly paced. But it also feels terribly routine and even, strangely, for all the trangressiveness it strives for, retrograde.

If you've got the stomach for it, it's a treat.

The crudeness with which Mottola made "Superbad" suited that film; here, a similarly rudimentary technique detracts and distracts.

Ugly, dull, bloodless, dumb, and phony to its core.