The redneck rust bucket is on screen so much that 3-D glasses should come with tetanus shots.

This is a comedy never proceeding beyond its idea pitch and attractive casting.

Ponderous and perplexing, a somberly audacious film to make viewers swoon or snore, take your pick. It is defiantly opaque, a free-form meditation on nature and nurture across millennia with a tinge of biblical grace.

Can we please get over the notion that every superhero in a skintight suit deserves a movie? Green Lantern is the latest wallet drainer emptying the comic book bench, more thudding than "Thor" and sorely incoherent.

The Art of Getting By is enough to drive a movie critic to drink. The next round's on the kid in the overcoat.

Anyone of any age can get a kick out of watching penguins slide down the spiraled interior of the Guggenheim Museum, or seeing how one of these flightless birds manages to buck nature.

Like the genre's top filmmakers - the Coens, Polanski, Hitchcock - Capotondi builds dread with wicked winks at the audience, dropping subtle surprises along the way.

Incendies is a gallery of nightly news atrocities - a bus massacre, rape, children with guns - yet it's made intensely personal under the director's steady hand.

Allen eventually gets to the heart of this matter: the allure and danger of nostalgia.

A nice but unnecessary movie for small children who can find the same level of entertainment on kiddie cable networks.

A movie of here-and-now thrills, goosed by judicious CGI effects that never overpower the humanity of the situation.

Spurlock's meetings with skeptical corporate types are punctuated by comments from filmmakers about how product placement - or in Quentin Tarantino's case, being turned down by Denny's - influences creativity.

Part two is even more gorgeous to behold, and deeper in substance.

It's deja vu all over again in The Hangover Part II, only dirtier and more dangerous, if you can imagine that.

Depp and Cruz only occasionally strike the sparks expected from two of the world's most beautiful people.

The Beaver plays like a thickly veiled confessional and plea for forgiveness. It's too creepy for comfort.

Bridesmaids is a bit of a groundbreaker... Not exactly a banner for feminism but equal time is overdue.

It's a very good performance that isn't for the "Talladega Nights" crowd and indie audiences can appreciate that.

Something Borrowed is a romantic comedy in which absolutely no one deserves to end up happy.

All that director Kenneth Branagh must do with Thor is not mess it up, and he succeeds. But that isn't enough. The results aren't as exhilarating as the first "Iron Man," but Downey can't play every superhero.

Fast Five is brawny dumb fun, nothing more but that's enough.

The plot is a piffle but Ozon's presentation is gloriously romantic.

Nothing about Koolhoven's film is stunning, but it's a solid piece of work, occasionally feeling as tense as life-and-death situations with Nazis should be.

For the love of movies, stay away.

Reese Witherspoon can do a lot of things as an actor but playing a damaged-goods Depression era dame isn't one of them.

As a cinematic effort, Atlas Shrugged: Part I is competent; in service to Ayn Rand's epic novel, it's less so.

Bursting with color and rippling with samba rhythms, Rio makes you wonder why animated films haven't spent more time in Brazil.

Redford proves that at 75 he can still choose meaningful projects and deliver them with intelligence.