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 Descent is bloody, disturbing, and genuinely frightening--you'll be very happy to leave that dark theater.

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

Somehow the movie ends up feeling like a museum piece or, worse still, a work of fiction.

So if you like Ferrell or Cohen, go ahead buy some popcorn, check your brain at the door, and you will laugh.

On the surface, each of these characters fits a familiar Latino stereotype--teen harlot, "el bandido" and male buffoon--yet the movie insists on giving each person dimension.

Just when the plot should start coming together, the pacing goes slack and the narrative gets bogged down in routine cop-movie clichés.

What once was a gifted comic's fluid improvisation is now a doddering old man so embarrassing he's uncomfortable to watch, and the surrogate father-daughter needling he has with Johansson is creepy when you realize Woody the director is shooting her seductively in that skintight bathing suit.

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.

13 Tzameti is certainly nightmarish, but it's the kind of nightmare that fades instead of lingering on in the memory.

Diverting and often funny enough, largely thanks (as is not unusual in cases like this) to its cast.

Part of the Clerks charm was that Kevin Smith made it for $27,000, and a bigger budget doesn't really help this kind of tale's authenticity.

Smaller kids might find the movie too intense at times, especially when DJ, Chowder, and Jenny find themselves literally in the belly of the beast. But everyone else should enjoy a good, goosebumpy scare.

My Super Ex-Girlfriend was written by longtime "Simpsons" scribe Don Payne, but you wouldn't know that based on the finished film, which lacks the intelligence and sly wit that has kept Homer and the gang on the air for all these years.

Little Man only proves that some should just stick to the sketch comedy, and leave the big screen to "Big Daddys" like Adam Sandler who the critics tend to snub, but who know how to make an audience laugh.

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

Dead Man's Chest is best summed up by the scene where Sparrow and Will battle each other atop a runaway water wheel. Like the characters, this movie is just running in circles.

The most impressive thing about the film's technical wizardry is, finally, how unimpressive it is. One doesn't leave the movie with a mind blown by visual bedazzlement but with a soul shattered by the profound sense of tragedy Linklater and company so beautifully put across.

So stupendously funny at times that she (Streep) nearly salvages the whole thing.

This Superman is like nothing you've ever seen before, but it tickles something primitive and comforting at the back of the mind. Gorgeously detailed and meticulously realized, it's a homecoming of a movie. Just wait for the theme; you'll understand.

This is one unmarked van you just might want to take a ride with.

By the end of the film, you actually come to mourn the passing of the EV1, a well-intentioned soul that was in the right place at the right time, but was surrounded by the wrong people.

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.

To be fair Deep does have one thing going for it. While the movie never seems to end, and when it does… oh man. Think "Aquaman" meets "Training Day." It proves that sometimes a crappy drama is sometimes just a comedy in disguise.

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.

Where the film falters is in Alejandro Agresti's overly deliberate direction, which threatens to drown the drama in amber sunsets and self-conscious camera framings. The film looks great, but it lacks spontaneity, an important element of the most memorable screen romances.

When he runs out of material to tickle with, Black dips into his musically tenacious "deedle-diddle-dee" for some sure-fire ridiculousness.

Ultimately, Wordplay is best enjoyed as an engaging look at a little-known subculture.