A nice little mystery thriller that takes a wrong turn on the way to its climax and morphs into a slasher movie.

Tarantino keeps things moving along nicely, with a heavier dose of humor and less violence than in Pulp Fiction, but, on the whole, this movie seems more like the work of one of his wannabes than something from the director himself.

In many ways, Godzilla is a cousin to Edwards' earlier movie, "Monsters," in that it focuses more on the ineffectual humans than the monsters.

Jesus Camp is not a "hatchet job." The filmmakers did not go in with an anti-Christian agenda and use selective editing to prove their point.

It is neither as clever nor as funny nor as inventive as the daring title might lead one to expect.

I wouldn't go so far as to classify Jacob's Ladder as a masterpiece, but it is smart and compelling and unquestionably worth a first or second look.

A gleeful and unapologetic descent into delicious decadence, Killer Joe is proud of what it is and never tries to be something it isn't.

Too few motion pictures cause us to think and feel this deeply.

Filmed in black-and-white with an eerie score by Neil Young, and using contemporary dialogue and mannerisms, Jarmusch's picture has a dream-like quality.

This is bad melodrama, complete with hammy acting and purple prose, and far too long to be even passingly entertaining. It's soap opera quality, from beginning to sensationalistic end.

This is a smart, adult romance that rarely panders to clichés, and gives up the heady bliss of most such movies in favor of something bittersweet.

Catch a Fire isn't edgy like some of Noyce's previous titles nor is it a big-budget endeavor with A-list stars. Instead, it's a simple and sincere tale of inspiration.

The lack of explosions and gunfire makes this an atypical summer thriller, but its breezy brand of unforced and occasionally self-referential entertainment is a lot more fun than pirates, webslingers, and green ogres.

It has impeccable production values but feels like a "Masterpiece Theater" production of a Harlequin romance novel.

Although the movie features strong performances and contains some individually potent scenes, the film’s style keeps the viewer at arm’s length, limiting the story’s overall power and emotional resonance.

After a few missteps and/or odd choices for the director (including Dumbo and Dark Shadows), Beetlejuice Beetlejuice puts Burton back in familiar territory and, surrounded by past collaborators and a sense of nostalgia, he thrives.

For the most part, Big Eyes works because of its restraint - something rarely claimed about one of Burton's cinematic offspring.

Petersen ratchets the tension up to a level where the viewer is likely to forget the imbecilic plot contrivances that have gotten the situation to this point, and just enjoy the action and adventure.

Black Sea contains its share of fantastical elements and the ending in particular evidences gaping holes of logic and physics but, as a "refrigerator film," it works well.

As a big-budget B-grade monster movie, Kong: Skull Island is a home run. It offers all the tropes and clichés one expects from this sort of endeavor, sparing no expense when it comes to special effects. As a King Kong movie, however, Skull Island is less successful.

Despite the presence of three top-line actors and a fine supporting cast, City Hall never lives up to its promise. There's too little grit and too much predictability, and even the central character, Calhoun, is never better than half-developed. Director Harold Becker (Sea of Love, Malice) keeps City Hall well-paced, so boredom never threatens. Even so, as political thrillers go, this one stands below the likes of even Kevin Costner's No Way Out, and isn't close to the same category as All the President's Men. There's not enough substance or energy here to warrant more than a lukewarm recommendation.

There are a few occasions when Antwone Fisher crosses the line to become too syrupy -- For the most part, however, the production radiates emotional honesty.

May be flawed, but it's not easily forgotten.

In all fairness to the film, it is superior to the disappointing second movie in the series. The comedy is about as low-brow as it can get (at least without treading into R-rated territory).

Kristen Bell shines as Veronica, playing the character as a more mature version of her TV persona.

Sluggish. Torpid. Boring. Those three words (and more) can describe The Yellow Handkerchief, a stultifying road trip movie whose inept screenplay is only partially counterbalanced by a trio of nice performances.

A lively, crowd-pleasing story with heart to go along with the glitter and glitz, it’s better than a lot of what’s currently available.

Although the forced ending, which seems deigned to create an unnatural moment of triumph, weakens the climactic catharsis, it doesn't diminish the naked honesty which forms the foundation of Dolores Claiborne.