Pitch-perfect -- not just the most enjoyable movie of the year but the first (after Crumb) to get the tone of a certain strain of "underground" comic right.

An appropriately generic title for a droning, high-toned little heist picture with no dash and no raison d'être.

I half-admire its exquisite balancing act, squeezing laughs out of its leading lady's wardrobe, vocabulary, gestures, and cretinously oblivious Beverly Hills sense of entitlement, while simultaneously demonstrating her brilliance, sturdy ethics, and unflappable egalitarianism.

A riot of sleazy camera moves, bad acting, and maladroit profane dialogue.

What's a shock is the crudeness with which Spielberg fills the scenario in -- how he neuters his protagonist and short-circuits the inner workings of his human characters.

Rambling and conflicted as it is, it's one of the most entertaining African-American comedies of manners ever made.

Fearless as these racers are, it's hard to muster enthusiasm for a movie that plays chicken and then swerves about a mile before the collision.

She's (Jolie) the most amazing special effect in movies. The best thing in Lara Croft: Tomb Raider is a bungee-jumping ballet that Lara performs late at night in her mansion, soaring high and low in Japanese silk pajamas and with her hair pulled tightly back.

The movie is riotously entertaining, and with a big heart, too.

By the third big climax the audience started to get impatient with the movie's pointless zigs and zags.

I laughed -- but mostly to keep from getting depressed about the devolution of mainstream movies.

I had a hard time maintaining interest in (let along liking) any of these self-involved Hollywood twerps, and scene after scene is a grating mixture of self-aggrandizement and masochism.

A perfectly decent second-banana, Rob Schneider, has been over-optimistically elevated to the top of the bunch.

The movie made me laugh a lot anyway. It has a big, inventive cast of loons and a great premise.

The filmmakers have separated themselves from all the emotions of filmmaking except anger.

I found "Pearl Harbor" annoying but not excruciating—even at three hours, it's less assaultive than either "The Mummy Returns" or "Moulin Rouge."

Ends up leaving you starved for a single moment of unhyped emotion. You can barely see the characters for Luhrmann screaming.

Some people are finding it difficult to live with the idea that Kaleil could put his employees through hell, lose $60 million of other people's money, and wind up a movie star.

The director's knee-jerk anti-capitalism often sticks in my (white, well-fed) craw.

Simply a jolly good (k)night out.

A few billion 1s and 0s in search of a movie.

The most appalling comedy of the millennium after "Joe Dirt," which is so supernaturally terrible that it levitated me out of the theater after 40 minutes.

Quite likable -- even sometimes, with the squeezable Zellweger its principal object, lovable.

Even if you find the satire in Josie and the Pussycats self-serving, you might still love the movie, buy the soundtrack, and surrender to the hype. That's what happened to me.

This is an extraordinary -- and unfathomable -- piece of whitewashing: a true snow job.

I fear that the cozy domestic ending will leave audiences disappointed, convinced that they've seen something smaller and less momentous than they have.

The most enthralling movie of the year.

Con-artist caper comedies are almost always piffle, but there's a fierce, cruel competition at the heart of Heartbreakers that gives it some bite.