Westfeldt becomes irritating. That's one of the film's points, but it's made a little too well.

Lacks the perfect timing, luster and true vitality of its predecessors.

An unsteady and uneven film, which bangs up against its ambitions gracelessly and distractingly.

Wide-eyed, deadpan and, more often than not, note-perfect.

Waddington's wonderfully textured film is an unforced work of naturalism.

For a Hollywood studio movie, you see, The Mexican is remarkably strange and eccentric with a plot like a wrinkled bed sheet and a black comic sensibility that consistently swerves away from the cliches that have been established in this Age of Tarantino.

A vile, stupid and ugly movie lacking utterly in pep, thrills, humor, finesse or morals, a dissipating waste of time, money and human resources.

It's alternately mind-boggling and patience-testing, mixing astounding sequences of over-the-top invention with scenes of inept acting and indifferent filmmaking.

Leconte's signature on the film alone makes it worth seeing.

The trouble is that it's so lead-footed and delighted with itself even as bit after bit sinks like a lead weight.

This one is shot, recorded and edited without so much as a pinch of craft -- it's one of the ugliest big studio films in a long while.

It's classic movie manipulation gone amok.

A grating experience from start to finish.

It's gory, really gory, gratuitously and often inelegantly.

Delivers the oft-trod subject of boys' sexuality with intelligence and freshness.

Freddie Prinze Jr. gives cute a bad name.

Lopez is fine, sometimes quite funny, but she's better playing the take-no-prisoners planner than a goofy, insecure dork.

One of the most aggressively ambiguous pictures of the year. There is a certain power to that.

The convoluted story is an excuse for comical tricks of the camera, fractures of chronology, acid punch lines and amusingly excessive performances. (In this latter category, Pitt, so deep into his character that you can smell him, wins the day gloriously.)

Panic never lets you forget that Donald Sutherland can be one of America's greatest actors.

If ever a film was fit only for straight-to-video release, it's this one.

Filled with too many issues -- along with young motherhood, street gangs, city life, sex, peer pressure, grief and, oh yes, dancing, which is nearly lost in so many poorly written subplots.

It's hooey, but it's hooey that picks up in the second half, not exactly redeeming itself but fitfully engaging.

The film moves too slowly and dispassionately to resonate as it should.

Built on an absolutely marvelous idea but manages to make only about two-thirds of a good movie of it.

A stunning film.

Intriguing, containing a truthful kernel of sweetness, rot and brutality that will shock many.

One of the most exciting American movies about recent political history since, ironically, Oliver Stone's "JFK."