If you are a big fan of country music, you will enjoy it for the Taylor Swift, Rascal Flatts, Billy Ray Cyrus and of course, Miley Cyrus performances.

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

Ultimately, Besson has made an interesting, if shaky in places, homage to childhood.

Vince Vaughn is terrific as the baddie.

It hardly adds up to much, but it doesn't mean to, and it'll leave you with a cleaner conscience than an Austin Powers picture.

Gilbert films Chong as if he's a political prisoner like Nelson Mandela, when he's really just an older comic going to jail over a bad business decision.

The dumbness doesn't kill Death at a Funeral, but it certainly weakens it.

It's all pulled off with a firm sense of the fun in being scared.

Gondry might have been better off keeping his movie on theoretical/slapstick grounds, because, quite frankly, his attempts at sincerity just don't make it.

As Jolie's closest professional confidant, Liev Schreiber is his usual excellent, formidable self.

Stylistically, Carandiru is definitely less monochromatic than an "Oz" rerun.

Those who still relish the sight of Anthony Hopkins portraying an evil criminal mastermind will get the most out of Fracture, which is not so much a whodunit -- we see Hopkins' character putting a bullet in his wife's head in the movie's first few minutes -- as a howdunnit.

Children of all ages: Brace yourselves for a helluva ride.

For all its intelligence, Free Zone has disappointingly little to say.

Martin Short is so odd that apparently, neither he nor the film industry know what to do about it. In a way, Jiminy Glick in La La Wood is both a fictional riff on this very fact and hard proof of it.

Underscored by the fragility of a plinking piano and well-timed flourishes to uplift, this heroic heartstring-tugger is still frequently and unexpectedly affecting, so much that it's able to hide its true face as a glorified movie-of-the-week.

The story's beginning is in a rush to get to the the killings, which get more and more disgusting.

We Own the Night can't sustain itself; as the stakes of the story get higher, Gray paints it in broader and broader strokes until there's almost nothing you can believe in it anymore.

The film, directed by "My Cousin Vinny's" Jonathan Lynn, is a fun movie which proves to be worth a look and a listen.

There are so many facts presented that many of them feel forced and trivial. We were also a little disappointed with the twist ending.

Presents nothing blindingly new for fans of Apatow- or Sandler-style humor and when watching it, one can hear the faint rustling of old scripts being yanked from drawers for a timely cash-in, but with his high-school memories now hopefully exhausted, maybe Rogen has a good college yarn to spin.

Mortensen proves once again that he’s an able, even intuitive performer, more compelling speaking Lakota Sioux than many others in plain English.

To be fair, Ouimet's story is pretty magical, one of the great sports underdog tales.

Ultimately a valentine to the unsung heroes of the US Coast Guard and it's probably long overdue.

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

Accomplished and well-intentioned to the extent that one wants to accentuate the positive, but the positive isn't the whole, alas; for every moment in the film that evokes classic neo-realism, there's another that's commonplace or overly sentimental.

The Hanks overload feels like The Polar Express is "Being John Malkovich" transmuted into a computer-generated 21st-century children's Christmas film.

All this stuff is enacted by a better-than-reliable cast (Griffin Dunne, Robert Downey Jr., Catherine O'Hara, Roger Rees, and more), so Game 6 is never a bore. But it's not much more besides never a bore.