Perhaps no director has so thoroughly explored the American concept of police work, prosecution and legal justice, and Find Me Guilty is a film that brings the 81-year-old filmmaker thematically full circle, back to his starting point, 1957's "12 Angry Men."

Has a certain charm and is sure to appeal to tweens, at least the female variety.

A glib satire with a slick surface, lots of snappy patter and nothing to sell but its own cleverness.

Although the movie doesn't turn the Zodiac saga into a slasher film, it has the look of a straight-to-video movie, or at best a Project Greenlight production.

While hardly glorifying abusive husbands, Take My Eyes, a mesmerizing and deeply disturbing film from Spain, makes an attempt to understand their thought processes.

Don't Tell often has the eerie feel of a Hitchcock film -- "Vertigo" in particular -- where you're not always sure if what you're seeing is really happening.

Pretentious drama.

"The Family Stone" did nothing for Parker, but Failure to Launch makes a strong case for life after "Sex and the City."

If studios insist on remaking classic horror films, this is definitely the way to do it.

As good as family entertainment gets.

The film is a particular disappointment considering its pedigree.

The beauty of Duck Season is its insistence that profound human experiences can arrive slowly, in incremental packages, scattered over the course of an average Sunday.

Unwatchable.

A gripping story of one teen's rebellion against his peers' sadistic abuse.

A quirky little comedy about one day in the life of a New York playwright on the brink of either greatness or failure.

This affecting documentary focuses on their 2004 production, a play whose themes of forgiveness and redemption certainly ought to have some resonance for the inmates.

Another urban action thriller that's better than some, worse than most and so forgettable that it's possible to forget it while watching it?

The movie has a sweetness and innocence that makes it near perfect entertainment for its target audience.

A return to rowdy form for Chappelle.

A film to be enjoyed only by science-fiction movie completists and middle school boys with extreme cases of attention deficit disorder.

It takes an extraordinary film on the order of Joyeux Noel to make it all suddenly vital, immediate and human.

It's a well-meaning but ultimately feeble and misguided attempt to say something profound about the aftereffects of the 2001 attacks on New York.

It grabs you from a symbolic opening scene of gang members rolling the dice -- the odds, it soon becomes clear, are stacked against them getting lucky -- and never lets go.

It's a movie that scrounges so desperately for laughs, it features both a flatulent moose and a flatulent train.

A disappointing sequel to the far funnier "Diary of a Mad Black Woman."

It's a pumped-up, intricate and fast-moving yarn that never flags and continues to play out in unexpected ways as it unravels.

While the film raises simple but deeply puzzling questions about memory and identity, the hit-or-miss search for answers by the subject and assorted experts, family and friends is finally unsatisfying.

It's an intriguing portrait, but it makes no pretense at objectivity, erring on the side of hero worship.