A second-rate but bearable black comedy.

If Boiler Room isn't an especially challenging movie, it's still a damn good melodrama -- a boilermaker.

Monumentally unimaginative. Thumbs down!

A grave screwball comedy. Its gags aren't just hilarious -- they have a weighty, plaintive soul.

A lot more fun than "Blair Witch," and it's more relaxed and goofy than its two predecessors -- a farcical bloodbath.

It used to be that Midler was a life force, but whenever she tries to play one, she looks like she's floating in formaldehyde.

The director's beautiful detachment suggests a kind of cowardice.

Matt Damon can't quite piece together a compelling poseur.

Has anyone involved in this disaster ever heard a real story?

I bet that what Carrey saw from inside Kaufman's head would be more illuminating than anything in the movie.

A monument to process -- to the minutiae of making art -- Topsy-Turvy leaves you upside down and breathless.

Anderson must have needed that bonkers third-hour climax because there was nowhere to go short of spontaneous combustion.

Superficially respectful but ultimately cruel.

A religious conspiracy disguised as a romance.

Occasionally dissonant, but it's remarkably cleareyed.

Unexpectedly delectable.

Tumbleweeds is gorgeously nuanced.

Corny, predictable, and packed with gay stereotypes.

The movie is better than you've heard, although that's not saying a lot.

A ferocious yet lyrical piece of filmmaking--an enchanted bloodbath.

Even though the film is full of laughs, the jokes hover on the edge of the abyss: This is a world in which lurid colors and extravagant gestures are means of filling the void.

I think Levinson missed a chance to get something unique and audacious on screen.

The first truly countercultural apocalypse fantasy.

Apart from a few choice flashbacks, the action is crawlingly linear--and opaque.

Milla Jovovich is not quite up to the task of playing a nuanced and thoughtful Joan.

Singer Usher Raymond earns praise as the leader of the group, but the rest of the cast goes largely unnoticed.

Throughout this terse, entertaining parable (it won the grand prize at this year's Cannes Film Festival), the Belgian-born writer-directors Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne ("La Promesse," 1996) immerse you in the sensations of Rosetta's life.

A piece of exploitive schlock.