Raimi as a filmmaker is clearly having more fun than he's had in years. So will his fans.

Director Bent Hamer ("Factotum") keeps things drily amusing throughout.

Your 12-and-unders will dig it, and it might even serve as a sort of movie-Bookmobile and get them to read a little history, or at least a little Wikipedia. But otherwise it's utterly dispensable.

Soderbergh's experiments are gripping -- the photography, music, wobbly chronology and so on -- but the movie is more of a curiosity than anything else.

This may have been fertile grounds for satire in 1925, when Noel Coward's drawing-room melodrama Easy Virtue debuted on the stage, but by now this film version feels rather done.

Grim, post-apocalyptic, special-effects extravaganza.

Perhaps this is what fans want from a movie like this: to sit back as if in a Jacuzzi and get a quick impression of history and Rome and such. If so, Howard, Brown and company likely have another monster hit on their hands.

Hugely entertaining.

It's dull and crude and silly and without a lick of quality.

A keenly observed, typically high-quality family drama of the sort only the French seem capable of making anymore.

Once all the pieces of the story are assembled, the whole thing turns out to be not that big of a deal.

The result is persuasive but incomplete. Dick is working here as a journalist, and the story is far from fully unfolded. Still, what he proffers will keep you thinking, talking and engaged.

It's a film that gently spoofs such cultural staples as ranchera music, illegal gambling, labor exploitation and tabloid media. And it's the sort of film that sneaks serious themes and emotions in just when you think it's about to dissolve into farce. Small but largely satisfying.

Full of life, wit, smarts, thrills and sheer gratifying entertainment that it launches the mind on a stream of merry somersaults.

A tiresome, didactic and, once the novelty of the graphics has worn off, charmless film.

The dialogue is almost primitive at times, almost every female character is an idiot and McConaughey grossly overplays the bachelor-sleazeball antics at the beginning.

It's exactly the film Jarmusch wanted to make, but it's also smug, excruciating, borderline pointless. You could call it a deliberate effort to invert the conventions of the thriller; you could also call it, more rightly, a self-deluded disaster.

Keaton offers glimpses of a directorial gift, but this odd little piece feels like a warm-up for something more compelling.

The film continually explores surprising, rewarding territory; even an erotically charged subplot dovetails nicely with themes of vengeance, mortality and renewal.

The action scenes and plot points frequently defy logic, the apparent assumption being that it's just comic-book stuff and doesn't really need to make sense.

Sorrentino is a spectacularly inventive talent and has harnessed an astounding performance from Servillo.

Spoiler alert: It can leave you feeling kind of empty and sad! It's pretty, icky and boring all at once, and feels like nothing so much as an unusually depressing Ban du Soleil commercial.

You can't help but feel a connection to Downey and Foxx and, to a lesser degree, a rooting interest in the story. But try as Wright might, he never figures out a way to bring us in -- much less manipulate us -- cinematically.

Meeting at the intersection of cinema, history and ethnomusicology.

No other sporting figure has ever been afforded so much screen time for self-revelation: just another instance of Iron Mike's one-of-a-kind status.

Until State of Play slips into its small cascade of improbabilities near its end, it proves a thoroughly engaging and professional enterprise.

An unexpectedly charming little film.

A kid-meets-curmudgeon comedy that transcends its formulaic skeleton thanks both to the veteran actor's charm and a smarter-than-average screenplay.