It bodes well for the future of the franchise that Renner and Weisz share not only a gripping predicament but something more important: chemistry.

People over 60 are as sexual and complicated as their grandchildren, and there ought to be more movies about them, but only an audience as constipated as these characters could mistake this lukewarm stream of pablum for a hard nugget of truth.

As the blindered Abe, relative-unknown Gelber earns a sympathetic pat on the head. But as the character is braying for attention, he's stuck in his stall, while genuine dark horse Donna Murphy carries the narrative load as the middle-aged co-worker who prances into Abe's daydreams.

Particularly memorable are scenes in which Calvin loses his cool as Ruby holds onto her calm. It all adds up to a movie that's sparklingly entertaining.

The richly constructed first hour is so superior to any feat of sci-fi speculation since "Minority Report" that the bland aftertaste of the chase finale is quickly forgotten.

If this movie wanders into your neighborhood, the only watch that will hold your attention is the timepiece on your wrist.

Where the original play "La Ronde" was a social satire about the transmission of venereal disease, 30 Beats is a sickly stepchild.

A colorful indictment of corporate infestation, but it's missing a prescription.

A cinematic miracle, a film that carves out a vivid space that has nothing to do with wizards or extraterrestrials, but quite a lot to say about the fantastical creatures that roam through the humanity in us all.

The conclusion of Christopher Nolan's superhero trilogy is a hugely ambitious mix of eye candy and brain food. If it doesn't have the haunting aftertaste of the previous serving, that's only because Nolan couldn't clone Heath Ledger. But beefy substitute Tom Hardy is a hell of a villain.

Snark is not art. In the evolutionary spectrum of cinema, Natural Selection is like the duck-billed platypus, pretending to be warm-blooded but more than a little fowl.

With this unfunny fourth installment, the "Ice Age" franchise has skidded so far into kiddie land that adults who tread there risk extinction.

As memorable as it is insightful, Take This Waltz is one of the best films of the year.

Alma is at once a charmer and a contrarian, and Bergsholm achieves that balance with seeming effortlessness. At times, she's more than a bit reminiscent of the young Jodie Foster.

At the confluence of altered states and state-sanctioned violence, this drug-fueled thriller is Stone's most successfully provocative picture since "JFK."

The film is constructed from four flimsy vignettes that are artlessly overlapped.

Perry manages to pull it off here, coming off completely likable and real, never insufferable and fake.

Not just a reboot - it's a rejuvenation. From the first image of sensory awakening to the final acceptance of adult responsibility, it pulses with the warm blood of a very human hero.

Although there's a skeletal story, A Cat in Paris evokes a mood instead of a moral. Like a cat nap, it gives us a brief, refreshing dream with little to remember.

This is a smart, moving film that's also very, very funny.

Ted does not only break before it ends. It snaps back so violently that it very well may knock out of your mind any recollection that the movie is fairly entertaining for about 30 minutes.

Pine and the always-watchable Banks make the best of a bad screenplay, but People Like Us gives us nothing that we can relate to.

It's guilty of some sleight-of-hand hokum, but in pulling the rug from under the norm, Magic Mike turns a trick.

Like a train, I Wish is slow to build momentum, then it carries us away in a wondrous rush.

With elements of a musical, a melodrama and a multicultural romance, Where Do We Go Now? is as hard to define as the crossroads region where it's set. But even without a clear signal, it sometimes seems miraculous.

Eccentric enough to get mistaken for an uplifting fantasy, but it's Plaza who belongs in the penthouse.

If the world were really coming to an end, we'd spend it with Knightley and tell her tag-along friend that there's not enough food for a 50-year-old virgin.

Just misses living up to its name.

A blast, the best action movie of the summer.

Like "Gone, Baby, Gone," the French film Polisse succeeds by shifting the focus from the victims to the vigilant protectors.

Ice-T delivers a love letter to hip-hop with Something from Nothing: The Art of Rap.

Mostly the movie is about process and perspective. Through the documentary lens, Richter's enigmatic paintings speak to us.

In matters of personal taste, there is no right or wrong, so if erasing brain cells is your idea of a good time, That's My Boy could be your cup of turpentine.

The only edge in the movie is represented by Russell Brand, who actually lived the lifestyle, but he's muzzled by a bad Liverpool accent and a gay subplot that's as insincere as the swaggering anthems by fatuous hacks like Foreigner, Starship and Journey.

The best film of the year and perhaps the purest love story in cinematic history.

As a sex-education comedy, Hysteria is flaccid, forced and unfunny.

Surviving Progress reiterates arguments made in movies such as "An Inconvenient Truth" and "Inside Job," it marshals minds such as Jane Goodall and Stephen Hawking, and it utilizes artful imagery reminiscent of films such as "Koyaanisqatsi" and "Up the Yangtze."

The real stars here are Scott's behind-the-curtain crew, who fill every frame with tech-savvy details and take the sets to another dimension with immersive 3-D imagery.

Denham impressively captures Peter's flintiness, rendering him sympathetic yet not quite likable, and Vicius is just right as the wary Lorna.

Until a devastatingly effective finale, Monsieur Lazhar is an exercise in delicacy, carried by Fallag's gentle performance and a fine cast of kid actors.

It's the kind of movie that inspires word-of-mouth recommendations by speaking the international language of culture clash.

Goodbye First Love is like a postcard from a lost Eden, a painfully pure oasis where we're not allowed to linger.

It still has cool creatures and 1960s set design, and the 3-D is the best of the season, but if you try to remember the story or jokes, you'll find that you've been hit by a neuralyzer beam.

Among recent documentaries, First Position soars to the head of the class.

Bernie could easily have gone horribly wrong. But Black and Linklater finesse this tricky material with as much virtuosity as Bernie brings to that broccoli.

This thriller is both skillfully familiar and chillingly strange.

Proficient director Peter Berg ("Hancock") keeps the noise so deafening we can't think about how preposterous it all is.

Too short and undisciplined to be a world-class comedy, but its chutzpah deserves respect.

This is rich material that Moretti mines for both superficial absurdity and deep pathos.

Lacking beef or sufficient spice, it's nonetheless colorful comfort food.

May be too light for vampire purists or fans of the original show, but fresh blood is just what the doctor ordered.

Do yourself and your kids a favor. On the way to multiplex to see "The Avengers," tell them The Fairy is about an all-powerful superheroine. Someday, they'll find the words to thank you.

Damsels in Distress is shockingly tone-deaf. Stillman is still capable of a few amusing quips, but his storytelling is sophomoric.

The fiery finale is good enough to leave the legions smiling. But when a movie is expected to lift an entire industry, "good enough" shouldn't be good enough.

There are enough F-bombs, a couple of chopped-off appendages and a flash of gratuitous male nudity to earn an R rating. But fans of producer Judd Apatow would expect nothing less.

To keep serious cinema from going extinct, this could be sold as "The Hunger Games" cross-bred with "The Lorax," but it's better and more mature than either of those hit movies.

Elles is provocative company, but it leaves us feeling hustled.

The movie is missing the zippy chases and lovable characters of Aardman studio's previous films ("Arthur Christmas," "Chicken Run").

96 Minutes is a mere introduction to Sociology 101, but it's brisk enough to rustle the reading list and keep the conversation alive.

Like a Fishbone show or an LA weather forecast, the dark curtain rises, and there's a promise of more sunshine.

Episodically structured and lethargically paced, the new film attempts to convince us that there's something incredibly charming about an old guy who makes a habit of ogling young women. Actually, the whole scenario is pretty creepy.

An eye-opening primer in cross-species similarity. We learn that apes are violent and territorial but also that they are capable of creativity and tenderness.

Marley is thus a valuable history project but not a definitive or analytical one. For that, we await a film that's less "One Love" and more "Stir It Up."

Despite the crass book promotion, the overlong film is harmless romantic fun that's well played.

Footnote is faintly comic, and director Joseph Cedar mines dark humor from the humiliations of identity checks and pecking orders.

Built on shaky and blood-soaked ground, but if towering technique is all you want from an action movie, then yippee-ki-yay.

This is a film that's not always easy to watch, but just about impossible to forget.

Bully is a good start to a necessary conversation, but its loving voice is likely to be drowned out by haters who hide their own wounded hearts behind Internet pseudonyms and broadcast microphones.

Moviegoers looking for a thrill should go into The Cabin in the Woods knowing as little as possible about the film.

When a place and its people are this stylish, we can't help but be drawn to them.

Unlike the benchmark sports documentary "Hoop Dreams," Undefeated doesn't have a deep penetration of poverty and race in its playbook, but it does have enough heart to make substantial forward progress.

There's some laughing gas left in the cupboard, but this series may require an infusion of new blood to last until "American Funeral."

That action is bloody, but Fiennes' choices as director are unassailably apt and artful. Coriolanus is a triumph.

In this flick, the dark side is as bright as a cruise-ship showroom, where the singing and dancing would fit nicely, while the jokes are as dull as Disney sitcom throwaways.

What's lacking is a galvanizing performance comparable to that of the Oscar-nominated Catalina Sandino Moreno in "Maria Full of Grace." Still, The Forgiveness of Blood is a memorable portrait of a society and the demands it makes on those caught up in it.

Considerably better looking than its predecessor, but it's spewing the same old gibberish.

Isn't as memorable or provocative as it might have been. But it's an engaging love story that should appeal to moviegoers with a flair for the offbeat.

While it's satisfying to see fat cats tamed by science and an enraged public, the movie misses the opportunity to sustain the pressure.

The Hunger Games is dressed as a dark satire of soulless entertainment, but like Katniss' adversaries in the PG-13 hunting scenes, it doesn't have a distinctive identity or go-for-the-throat.

He might be guilty of showboating, but De Niro's knockout performance is a declaration that the star of "Raging Bull" isn't ready to hang up his gloves.

A high-wire act that could crash if the actors were out of sync, but under this big top, the never-better Segel keeps everyone aloft.

It's hard to hate a movie that escorts us to such lovely locales, but instead of marking the territory as her own, Madonna has directed a potentially provocative story like a virgin.

As opposed to the "gentlemen's clubs" in sinful cities like Las Vegas, the Crazy Horse attracts couples.

He's not in Mark Wahlberg's league, and 21 Jump Street isn't quite as funny as "The Other Guys," but by lampooning himself here, Tatum has bought himself a grace period to grow in.

Refusing to hold our hands, director Lynne Ramsay ("Morvern Callar") pushes far beyond the boundaries of topical drama into the realm of the surreal.

The tonal shifts, the "Amelie"-style voiceover and the punk-retro soundtrack may jar some viewers who expect uninterrupted violins, but Declaration of War is alternative therapy that really works.

Like an acquaintance couple's baby pictures, Friends With Kids induces coos but isn't as cute as they think.

While the movie is funnier than the book, the drawback of this modernized version is that it loses the timeless quality of the story on the page.

Thin Ice resides just slightly south of "Fargo."

Act of Valor is a competently directed action movie, but forcing the audience to wear such narrow goggles is a dereliction of duty.

So many of today's children's movies are loud. Loud explosions, loud colors, loud soundtracks, loud humor. The animated The Secret World of Arrietty is the antidote to those films.

Stölzl blends romance and melancholy in fine style.

Although it's slow to unfold, this courtroom drama is so timelessly humane and even-handed it feels like it came from the dockets of Solomon - by way of Sidney Lumet.

Even by the standards of light entertainment, This Means War is meaningless.

The action is contained within a coherent dramatic structure and the puzzle-box paranoia of spy-agency protocol.

The result, Pina, is the most spirited and spectacular film about dance since Robert Altman's "The Company."

Anyone old enough to have read Jules Verne or seen the way his work was successfully adapted in the past will suffer worse than the kids in the audience who just came to laugh.

With its broad strokes, this invitation to an important discussion is hard to ignore, but the blood and honey on the table is an unpalatable mix.