The few chuckles the film affords come early, and too often the script desperately tries to repeat them. By the end, it's not funny or happy -- just over. And you're glad for it, the one true emotion you feel in the whole two hours.

Terrific musical numbers and interesting premise.

Privy to virtually all phases of the debacle, the filmmakers have created the behind-the-camera equivalent of a slo-mo crash test.

For the most part it's a completely ordinary, completely familiar, professionally executed film. Nothing truly awful, but nothing unexpected, either.

It's a moderately compelling historical record, but of far more interest as an artifact than a film.

Chris Koch exhibits little flair for comedic direction and, though this isn't saying much, you'd be better served watching his previous film, "Snow Day." Ouch.

If the movie wasn't about an actor but instead about an insurance salesman or a plumber who looked like James Gandolfini, it might come off better. But then, who says a plumber would care either?

An exhilarating slap in the face, bracing and sexy, smart and visceral, stylish and raw -- the advent of a fabulously exciting new moviemaking talent.

As with many Iranian films, reality and fiction collide (the lead actor really is a pizza deliveryman), and the moral of the story is a surprisingly blunt critique of the growing inequality of wealth in the slowly Westernizing nation.

An attractive, charming film that has fun with its period settings, its goofy plot and its off-kilter performances.

With its eye-popping color, bold personality and snazzy tunes, Chicago is a breathtaking experience.

It's no wonder that Polanski, himself an artist who has survived a series of nightmares, should tell it so naturally and powerfully.

In many ways, a smashing success. It's built not only on a casually clever script but on two expertly balanced performances.

An enjoyable sojourn into the world of Dickens and could inspire a trend. Shakespeare and Austen have had their Hollywood moments during the past few years; why not the proto-Hollywood Dickens?

There are levels of complexity and nuance and intellectual rigor in The Hours -- it's clearly a film into which you could gain continued insight after several viewings.

It's the most charming and buoyant film Spielberg's ever made.

Provides adventure and humor in sufficient spoonfuls to make its pro-environment medicine go down smoothly for the target audience of grade-schoolers.

In Morvern Callar, the subject matter may be morbid and unappealing, but the director handles it with a visual poetry and an eye for hidden beauty that marks a filmmaker of the first order.

Suffers from poor comic timing and defective romantic pacing.

Beneath its frantic surfaces, Narc is terribly ordinary, built on a mystery that will puzzle only those who have never watched a TV cop drama.

There is greatness in Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York: titanic acting, violent poetry, moviemaking on a grand scale, a real air of daring. And there is flab in it as well, and confusion.

Exciting spectacle of a master director reining in his abilities to create a work that is etched in acid, burnished in smoke.

With all its pedestrian moments, the film still has the power to sweep you up.

An engaging if not riveting film based on David Benioff's adaptation of his own novel. It's not nearly Lee's best picture, and it's guilty of a few wrong turns that only a confident filmmaker could make, but it's assured and, perhaps more importantly, reassuring.

You will be heartened by the amazing sensation of watching one of the greatest works in the history of the medium unfold in front of you, piece by piece, year by year.

So emotionally overwhelming that its aesthetics seem almost beside the point.

A picture that could have bordered on classy screwball if written wittier, acted sexier and filmed shinier.

Though not terrible, and blessed with some nice performances, this Irish-eyes-are-smiling-despite-the-rain-and-nasty-nuns story is Hallmark Hall of Fame material.