Films like this have a way of finding their own devoted fan base, and Gypsy 83 deserves to be discovered not only by Goth and gay crowds, but by anyone who runs screaming from all things average.

Belongs to the same class of cotton-candy romances as "Chances Are" and "Somewhere in Time," although it steers its light-hearted subject into darker territory with the life support subplot.

The actors in The A-Team are all excellent, and they save a movie that routinely defies logic and physics Liam Neeson brings credibility and gravitas to any role he plays, but as "Hannibal" Smith, he swaggers like a paternal Han Solo.

From my perspective, the film's anti-Semitism is implicit rather than programmatic, and, in the film's current form, a little sneaky.

There's a lot to be said for a movie that isn't after instant fame, but only wants to make audiences feel good.

The supporting players do a serviceable job in their roles, but no amount of Oscar-nominee nuance from Giamatti or Linney can salvage what amounts to a candy-striped trifle for post-collegiate slacker existentialists.

One of those infuriating films that can't allow this already dramatic situation to fester and develop on its own.

Kevin Spacey is a darn good actor, and he's a pretty good singer to boot. But those traits alone do not excuse the painful experience to be had sitting through Beyond the Sea.

This booming, cartoonish confection is a transparent attempt to take a property Disney owns rights to, and to try and create a Harry Potter-like franchise.

Predictable, and stereotypical.

Like Dupree himself, the film wears out its welcome a little, but is still entertaining.

Anybody can make a movie that's anti-slavery. But to make a movie that's explicitly anti-democracy-that's something.

I'd gladly take the legend over this dreary pseudo-historical mumbo jumbo.

Fails in what amounts to its only distinct purpose: to smugly push the envelope of depravity farther than anyone else.

Secret Window's premise is certainly new, even if King appears to be plagiarizing themes from himself.

It sticks to what the series does best, mixing souped-up cars with corny jokes.

At root, novelist Dan Brown’s story is an entertaining one--whether you believe any of these ideas are real or not. And in the end, it’s that standard movie trope (good guys must solve dire puzzle while bad guys give chase) that makes The Da Vinci Code an okay film.

The potential for real offense is palpable, but Bruce Almighty never gets there; the script is too lazy and incoherent--truly effective blasphemy takes brains and rigor.

Spoiled by its own insatiable desire for envelope-pushing flair; it’s wider-scoped when it should be intimate, splashy instead of subtle, icky but not scary.

The overall feel is Hong Kong to the core…which means CJ7, like the first 25 minutes or so of "Shaolin Soccer," doesn't make many allowances to Western sensibilities.

Rambo is surprisingly effective as an action movie precisely because the villains seem truly dangerous and the "mission" truly a death wish.

Peyton Reed's The Break-Up proves there is nothing particularly funny or charming about two people splitting up, even if the couple is played by Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston.

Plays like a modern-day inversion of "Inherit the Wind," highlighting an astonishing shift in the American legal system over the last 80 years.

It's somehow fitting that this purported romantic comedy about dating is, like most dates, clumsy, endless, and absolutely excruciating.

Albert Brooks is expertly cast as a hopelessly neurotic, fanny-pack-wearing podiatrist.

Ichaso seems far too interested in what led to Lavoe's downfall rather than what made him great.

Cheaper entertains a broad audience by recalling an age of family filmmaking when that term wasn’t synonymous with crap.

It's the sourest and most borderline misogynist picture the Farrellys have yet made.

The whole film, in fact, feels slapped together and unfocused. Though the movie’s too dopey for anyone older than ten, there are scenes where characters drink and go skinny-dipping.

Director Mike Newell strips away facades and keeps this movie singing to the feel-good ending where everyone learns a life lesson by graduation time, whatever their choice may be.

The Broken Lizard guys don't so much send up a genre as inhabit it, and subvert it from the inside.

A mistake was made: Evening is a book that would have been best left on the page.

There's enough estrogen gone awry in this bitchy teen comedy to make "Mean Girls" look like a Disney after-school special.

Let's be honest: Whether it's Jessica Alba or Paul Walker you're dying to see stripped down to her/his sexiest swimwear, there's only one reason anyone is interested in diving Into the Blue.

The handful of comic moments will serve up a few good laughs.

Noisome, fragmented mess of a movie, the fourth film based on Jack Finney's novel "The Body Snatchers" and the worst of them all.

It's a decent comic-book movie that delivers its goods with good humor and a minimum of bloat.

Unstylized, inconsistent, unconvincing, and familiar to a fault.

Clichés are often a big part of what makes suspense films enjoyable. But Firewall goes out of its way to promise something more than business as usual, and then makes no attempt whatsoever to deliver.

We'd really like to crawl into William Hurt's head and experience whatever movie he thought HE was making.

Adults expecting a little bit more, "Chicken Run," this ain't.

The movie tires itself out setting up the complex plot.

Click is yet another uninspired Adam Sandler goof-fest with a long suffering leading lady, mildly bawdy gags--see Joe Schomo oogle female jogger--and a predictable ending.

This handsomely mounted film, in its cute ADD way, soon forgets its half-hearted attempt to make History Relevant to What Is Going On in the World Today and morphs into a sort of Classic Comics on acid, or, as a friend so brilliantly put it, "the longest Eurythmics video ever made."

If you enjoy a cop drama, regardless how packed with trite and worn plot points, Pride and Glory should do the trick.

Whatever planet these dance sequences are happening on, their cuckoo surrealism is the movie's saving grace.

The problems with Tokyo Drift start with its ostensible hero; during the course of this movie, Sean makes so many dumb decisions it's a wonder that anyone wants to be associated with him.

As a thriller, The Statement is relatively disappointing, but as a moral study, the movie proves far more promising.

Beyond the tunes, however, Elizabethtown falls short of actual emotional resonance, and is really nothing more than a passable "Garden State" doppelgänger.

It's tough to get through because it's so slow; the beautiful Kristen Bell, who we love in almost everything, doesn't fit in with a bunch of nerds.

The problem is the material itself, with its trite observations and shockingly flat writing.

Given that the B-to-Z movies parodied in Cadavra were funny to begin with, it begs the question as to why writer-director-star Larry Blamire and company bothered. I think they’re not so much nostalgic for this type of movie as they are for the kind of laughter it provoked.

The premise of the film is serviceable, but the execution is flawed and entirely underwhelming.

Relatively harmless fun, although it does make you wish Ferrell would do more risky, rule-bending work like "Anchorman." Enough with the generic star vehicles man, write thee a screenplay again!

To be fair, Smokin' Aces isn't a complete train wreck. Carnahan stages a handful of strong action set-pieces, most notably a close-quarters elevator shoot-out involving Liotta and Flanagan, that are a blast to watch.

There's never any real danger in the movie, which makes The Expendables feel like one of those chummy Rat Pack flicks that were just excuses for a bunch of pals to get together and goof off.

Chan still sounds silly talkin' jive, the action sequences are peppy if not exactly memorable, and the gags have been sitting out long enough to make penicillin.

As bad movies go, The Jacket belongs to a relatively rare but extremely intriguing/irritating genus.

Director Sylvain White, whose last film was the equally unnecessary "I'll Always Know What You Did Last Summer," manages to take the joy out of a dance movie by jerking the camera around and speeding up the dance moves so much.

Short on story, character, and attempts to win viewers' emotional investment, the film only seems to take a breath when The Rock is making the baddies lose theirs.

For a horror movie to work, it has to be ABOUT something.

When the secret is finally divulged, it’s such a letdown that it feels unfairly manipulative to have sat through such agonizing tedium.

Bloated with too many pratfalls yet too little plot, and neutered of its most viciously hysterical moments.

There's a lot of "stuff" here, and Kelly's biggest problem -- he's got more than a few -- is that he can't tell his good material from his bad.

Movies in which the same person serves as writer, director, and star should carry a special warning for audiences, even if that individual happens to be an actor as endearing as Luke Wilson.

It's an empty-headed look at a national problem with modern surveillance society, but if everyone acted as stupidly as the incredulous screenplay would have you believe, then it's safe to say the movie inadvertently reflects, rather than critiques, the insanity of our times.

Time doesn't just slow down while you're watching Catch and Release -- it actually comes to a dead stop.

Jersey Girl may have come from his soul, but it contradicts the charm of a Kevin Smith movie.

The fantasy here – dubious as life choices go, but great for a 90-minute comedy – is that you can stay 16 forever.

MacGruber is crude. It’s obscene. The dialogue is puerile and the jokes adolescent. And for the most part, it's hilarious: a bawdy riot drunk on impropriety, which is why the movie works.

Feels like little more than a stale rehash with a promising cast whose talents haven't been tapped.

The dialogue itself is not interesting or funny. Ostensibly sophisticated remarks--lazy references to Freud or Dostoevsky or whatever--pack no dramatic or intellectual weight.

Each segment introduces new characters and a radically different scenario, which suggests that Hancock's structure may actually be an insecure attempt to deliver a horror movie.

Paycheck is a bogus journey.

Isn’t like a lot of modern horror movies. It’s not about torture, or dead children, or weepy vampires with great hair. It’s an attempt to reinvent the monster movie, which we're all about. It’s too bad it couldn’t have been contemporized. Period movies can so easily become parodies of portentousness, and that’s what happens with this one.

As a fan and well-wisher of Coppola's, I wanted very much to like this movie, and I'll probably give it another shot once the DVD comes out. But, at first sight, Youth Without Youth's striving for exuberance reveals an almost desperate effort too much of the time.

Surrounding Council and Moore in this cacophonous, bleak New Jersey are a set of cops, neighbors, and relatives played by actors that the unimaginative Roth yanked directly from various TV gritty crime shows; it's like he thought HBO was his personal casting agent.

What doesn't work at all -- saving the worst for last -- is a ship-sinking performance by John Leguizamo as Lorenzo.

So tasteless, so fiendishly puerile that it’s hilarious.

The climax is the only thing for which the rest of this flick exists.

The filmmakers may have wanted to deconstruct any sense of a formal, cohesive narrative; instead, they have merely demolished it.

Trust the Man mainly feels like the work of a New Yorker who hasn't left his trendy neighborhood in ten years.

If only the love story were a little more convincing, she might have saved the world and the movie.

Threadbare sequel.

Winds up being rather fun. It's not great, but it's certainly not the worst monster movie that I've sat through -- that might be 2003's "Darkness Falls."

By straining to make a respectful war film for everyone, Winkler and Friedman have wound up with a toothless picture that won't satisfy anyone.

Close is the best and worst thing about the film, delivering a performance that upstages even Christopher Walken (!), taking her over-the-top Cruella de Vil turn to its saccharine-sweet opposite.

This terminally ill, terminally awful dramedy marks a sad cinematic milestone: The Bucket List is the first film in history to feature a truly wretched Nicholson performance -- and we're not talking about the character he plays.

Silly, heartwarming, and fun.

Riddled with ammunition for what Alfred Hitchcock called the "Plausibles"--those poor-sport moviegoers who insist on pointing out a movie's inconsistencies instead of simply enjoying the ride

Feels like a re-hash.

The storyline was actually believable, surrounding a family willing to do anything to save one another. A horror film turned feel-good.

Borderline reprehensible, High Tension is a living nightmare, but then, why else would you see it?

One of the film's few virtues is Danny Glover as the voice of Miles the mule.

While the concept is interesting, the whole thing comes off as a rather hilarious, um, disaster.

Although mixing teen humor with sentiment will never be done as well as in "American Pie," John Tucker Must Die has just enough heart to entertain the "MySpace" set.

Affable Ted Danson makes few ripples as Bridget's husband Don; while Roger Cross and Adam Rothenberg also glide through the film in their minor "significant other" roles to Nina and Jackie, respectively.

Perfectly harmless but by no means cinematic. It is unapologetically vying for the same moviegoers that "Greek Wedding" connected with last summer.