There are times when the story behind the making of a film is more interesting than the finished product. This is one of those occasions.

Martha Marcy May Marlene offers a challenging, emotionally riveting experience, even if the conclusion dangles at the edge of an unresolvable cliffhanger.

The scares (if you want to call them that) are still there - one "boo!" moment after another, strung together like a breadcrumb trail through a labyrinth. So if that's all you want from a Halloween release like Paranormal Activity 3, you are the perfect audience member.

The movie with which it has the closest relationship may be "Glengarry Glen Ross." The same sense of desperation, the same need to make the sale, permeates Margin Call. Both films are to some degree about the dehumanizing impact of money and both are driven more by characters than plot points.

Trespass is a home invasion movie, but not a clever, taut one; it's sloppy and obvious, with curves so un-serpentine they might as well be straightaways.

It's a solid, entertaining monster movie that, at its best, recalls not only its three decades-old namesake but Alien as well.

When the characters in Footloose are dancing and the music is blaring, the film comes alive. It has energy and personality. Would that the same could be said about the dramatic scenes, which are hamstrung by a combination of mediocre acting and atrocious dialogue.

By the time the two hour running length has expired, it's safe to say that Real Steel comes across as a legitimate crowd-pleaser.

This is a deeply cynical movie and, in that cynicism, it finds truth.

70 minutes into the 90-minute process, I was engaged. Then it all collapsed.

The action sequences are energetic and suspenseful but they don't always mesh well with the dramatic material.

There is a wealth of authenticity in the feel of the movie, as if Levine and/or his writer have endured some of this stuff.

Perhaps the only way to approach Abduction that will not result in a 105-minute boredom-induced coma is to think of it as a comedy, preferably with a drinking game attached. There are laughs to be had, although none of them are intentional.

Moneyball comes to life when elaborating on Beane's unique system of player selection, and the on-field baseball action is at times electrifying, but it trends toward the generic when tailing him away from the stadium.

Despite having a perfect cast for a title like Killer Elite, Gary McKendry's feature debut comes across as little more than a generic Jason Statham movie with two high-profile guest stars.

An emotionally rewarding experience: strong performances from leads Henry Hooper and Mia Wasikowska and a tender love story conveyed with genuine feeling.

Although the moral ambiguity of Straw Dogs has been softened in the remake, the message and the forceful way in which it is delivered remain the same.

The unfortunate ending, which wallows in artifice, is superficial and saccharine, and unworthy of the material that precedes it.

From the beginning, it's clear this is not a standard-order action film. It takes its characters as seriously as its chases, shootouts, and fights.

Contagion is the best movie made to date about an epidemic/pandemic.

There is a perverse enjoyment to be had from something this cheesy, although not enough of one that I can recommend sitting through it. Still, as bad as Creature is, it can be fun, although the level of enjoyment is probably in direct proportion to the viewer's level of intoxication.

O'Connor gives the film a dark, moody look, which is the best choice for so many roiling emotions. This is not a traditional stand-up-and-cheer fight movie; the undercurrents are too strong and deep.

The acting is superb across-the-board, with the three younger performers deserving accolades.

The movie is deliciously creepy even if it does exhibit some issues that keep it from being a top-notch example of "things that go bump in the night" horror.

It's tame and rather bland, and the laughter it generates is half-hearted. Director Jesse Peretz commits the unpardonable sin of wasting the considerable comedic talent of Paul Rudd.

The 2011 version of Conan the Barbarian looks cheap and feels rushed. The few good elements are dwarfed by a generic, nonsensical plot and shoddy storytelling.

Aside from some cosmetic changes, little of what this Fright Night offers elevates it above the classification of "unnecessary."

Tone is critical to a movie of this nature, and Fleischer gets it right.