Several times, Hotel Rwanda teeters on the edge of making a unique, visionary statement about our times, but can't quite do it. Too bad. If it could have pulled itself together in one brilliant scene, this may have been a great movie, instead of just a very good one.

It's not his (Scorsese) best film, but it's his most accessible and most thoroughly entertaining.

I walked out of it feeling much the same way I did after "The Cat in the Hat" and "The Polar Express" -- jarred by its excess, undernourished by its lack of heart and bored by its lack of originality.

Much of it is funny and endearing, and its toned-down star, Adam Sandler, is as winning as he's ever been.

It's a botched job...the new "Phoenix" lacks the very things that made the old one special.

It fails to persuade us that its subject is significant enough to be worth a movie.

The film is a melancholy but poetic meditation on the fragility of the gift of life.

Weaver was half-heartedly pushed as an underdog Oscar choice. If the film was worthy of her performance, Weaver may have had a shot.

It's an emotionally gripping, daringly genre-twisting, consummately crafted piece of filmmaking.

As a caper movie, it's a travesty that's impossible to understand or follow, but it's quite funny and clicks along nicely as a giddy, self-deprecating showcase for its gaggle of stars.

None of it is truly inspired, but Murray's deadpan presence holds it all together.

This is full of talk in the European art cinema tradition: intellectual conversations (often in multiple languages at once), gentile dinner conversation with an international all-star guest list.

It makes for one of the best and most haunting of the recent Asian horror films.

Dracula, who, as played by Dominic Purcell, has all the dark charisma and burning threat of a baked potato.

While its execution is fine, the movie is almost shockingly vapid.

It's exuberant, exhilarating, poetic and -- intentionally and not -- rather silly.

The movie works amazingly well as a historical epic.

It all feels pretty empty.

There are no fresh revelations and the film can't touch Paul Schrader's 1988 drama, "Patty Hearst," as an inside account.

Rich with emotional turmoil and searing beauty, but it could have used a little more time in the editing room to make sense of it all.

It's boldly acted, absorbing and satisfying as a history lesson and chock-full of extravagantly brutal battle sequences.

Above all, Kranks lacks that basic kernel of credibility that even a goofy farce needs to work.

Where other documentarians look for a charismatic personality to enliven their films, Berlin and Fab focus on the community as a whole.

Too dumb and improbable to even go into.

Works best when it devotes itself to the small group of main characters featured on the show.

A big change of pace for the bad-boy Spanish director. Like his other work, it's kinky and proudly gay, but this time it's not a comedy. It's a serious neo-film-noir, and a pretty darn good one at that.

Doyle's handheld camerawork is intimate and curious and his hazy colors radiate off the screen.

The movie is a misfire.