A romantic comedy depends, of course, on the chemistry between the leads, and here the film is more successful. Both Heigl and Butler find the appeal in very flawed characters.

There's seldom a dull moment -- but nor are there any that allow viewers young or old to invest in its elite team of furry characters to any satisfying or lasting degree despite the presence of an energetic voice cast.

It's getting increasingly difficult to avoid films as bereft of redeeming qualities as Deadgirl, an exploitation-horror hybrid best left to torture-porn fanboys and academics seeking to dissect the outer reaches of the contemporary young-male mindset.

You do wish Pate and writer Thomas Moffett had gone for more wit given the outlandishness of the melodrama since it would be more fun to laugh at this than take it seriously.

The writing is often clever and the overall production playful and intelligent.

The film ends up relying on stating a basic situation over and over rather than developing any sort of dramatic story concerning recognizable human beings, at least until things get moving a little faster in its second hour.

Bisset is powerful as a mother who has virtually devoured her young. With her Medusa-like tresses aswirl, she is truly ferocious.

An unmitigated B-movie that isn't thrilling enough or cheesy enough to make it worth the trip.

There are several impressive scenes, but taken as a whole, the film is weighed down by significant creative and technical missteps.

David Yates, in his go at the helm, throws the emphasis on the gathering storm clouds even as Harry and his fellow wizardry students make further discoveries involving the opposite sex.

Meadows and cinematographer Natasha Braier present their story with a gritty, unfussy lyricism that finds unexpected glimpses of beauty in overlooked corners of London.

Bruno is only intermittently funny and all too often the "ambushes" of celebrities and civilians look staged. The movie is even a tad -- dare we say it? -- tedious.

Maybe Humpday needed more characters and a less claustrophobic atmosphere. Maybe the film needed to be bolder and break a few boundaries itself. Maybe it could have better explained why these two men still need to be friends. Whatever the case, it certainly needed a better payoff.

The mixed-gene pool of talent doesn't quite jell, but a saving grace is Korean sweetheart Jeon Ji-hyun.

Although the teenage audience is notoriously undiscriminating, it's hard to imagine many kids turning out for this laugh-free comedy.

While there's an awful lot to like about this infectious celebration of a remarkable event featuring some superb, larger-than-life performers at the top of their game, the enterprise comes across as a bit of a missed opportunity.

If Weather Girl were to furnish its own forecast, it would be something along the lines of "Warm and breezy before becoming overcast and muggy late in the day."

Kempner has done everything right by organizing her bountiful material into a fascinating portrait of a worthy personality and her era and touching upon related issues like the impact of the blacklist and the alchemy of celebrity.

Veteran Yucatan stage actor Hector Herrera is a delight as the suspicious old garageman who gives Juan an important lesson about letting go.

Although the movie was clearly made on the cheap, cinematography, sets and costumes belie the modest budget. No one will be thunderstruck by the insights buried in "Valentine's Day," but couples seeking romantic fluff probably will find just enough humor and heart to satisfy them.

With its echoes of the Nicole Kidman vehicle "To Die For" -- the blonde in question is a television weather-reporter with big ambitions -- the film will appeal to movie-goers who appreciate story, character and crisp dialogue.

A genuinely playful wander down memory-lane by one of France's most revered film-makers, it's sufficiently erudite and extract-packed to satisfy cinephiles but also accessible to those for whom her name rings only vague bells.

The film lacks the juice promised by the teaming of such extraordinary filmmakers with a cast as large as a Hooverville encampment.

Pretty much any sign of creative life gets left out in the cold in Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs, the monotonous, strictly by-the-numbers third edition of the wildly lucrative digitally animated franchise.

Tensely action-packed and muscularly directed by Kathryn Bigelow, this tale of an elite U.S. army bomb disposal unit in Baghdad is a familiar story in new clothes, targeted at the young male demographic.

If you're going to make a weepy, there's no reason you can't make it with intelligence and insight as the makers of My Sister's Keeper have done.

Wholly one-third of the country, some 11 million people, watched the finale. Marking's film is too astute to pretend that such fleeting things can bring about peaceful democracy, but it's also perfectly aware that they certainly can't hurt.

Actors blossom under Frears' direction. There is no false moment or off-key note in this movie.

For those wearied by cliches about poverty, rote characterizations of minorities and shocks for their own sake, best to avoid "Cracktown."

It's a powerful, shocking piece, and the denunciation of a system in which an accused woman has to prove her own innocence (while in the case of a man, his guilt has to be proven by others), is strong and clear and unforgettable.

Surveillance will please the B-movie crowd in theaters and on into the ancillaries

Although the film is a routine thriller with few surprises, it deserves attention because its topic, even eight years after Sept. 11, is one that many South Asian Americans still take very seriously.

Managing to avoid facile sentimentality, the story grows emotionally more and more engaging thanks to Moretti's impeccable comic timing and neurotic acumen.

With its intelligence at the level of the simple-minded, however, the film is not likely to attract moviegoers who seek something more than a screen filled with kaleidoscopes of colored metal. Fan boys will no doubt love it, but for the uninitiated it's loud, tedious and, at 147 minutes, way too long.

Features enough genuine laughs to give it decent commercial traction.

The situations might be formulaic, but the teamwork of the two leads brings them to sparkling life.

A lot of comedic talent founders in this new Harold Ramis comedy that doesn't exactly recall his glory days of "Caddyshack" and "Groundhog Day."

There is something undeniable hypnotic and bewitching about Tatia Rosenthal's $9.99, which if nothing else is a candidate for the most unusual film of 2008.

This blood-soaked melodrama -- a far cry from most foreign films -- has been a festival favorite and might well develop a cult following, though it's far too gory to reach beyond the core audience.

Both informative and persuasive, Under Our Skin targets both the heart and brain to advocate for the Lyme disease community.

Under Duncan Jones' kinetic direction, Moon also shines on the production front: Cinematographer Gary Shaw's shaded shots intensify the drama, and Clint Mansell's music heightens the psycho-scape.

No question, watching this film is a tough go. Horror films cause less seat-squirming.

Curiously, despite the ever-energetic Tony Scott at the throttle, the sleek new edition isn't as transporting as it should have been.

The result is a much more playable film than recent efforts, though Murphy will have to share the applause with young Yara Shahidi.

Part concert film, part narrative, it isn't fully successful on either level, coming across more like an overlong DVD extra than a fully stand-alone work.

It has style to burn, eye-catching acting by an international cast and a story that harkens back to many literary classic with its themes of a family torn apart, brothers in conflict and a son's rivalry with a towering father figure.

A piercingly funny, twisted "whatever-happens-in-Vegas" caper.

Moving historical drama brings a fascinating chapter of art history to life.

Though it's nice to see Mendes take a looser, not quite so studied approach to his filmmaking, some stops along the way -- like a detour to visit Burt's suddenly single brother (Paul Schneider) -- feel dramatically off-course.

Lame sketch comedy, an uninspired performance from Will Ferrell and an overall failure of the imagination turn Brad Silberling's Land of the Lost into a lethargic meander through a wilderness of misfiring gags.

Ruins is sometimes as sunny as its locations but as familiar and predictable as a Greek diner.

The Swedish video and commercial director seeks artistic adventure but winds up with pointless self-indulgence.

The only thing might have added variety and richness to the film would be the inclusion of more dialogues or interactions with more than one person.

Winsome, touching and arguably the funniest Pixar effort ever, the gorgeously rendered, high-flying adventure is a tidy 90-minute distillation of all the signature touches that came before it.

Raimi's still very much up to his old tricks, retaining that deliriously over-the-top brand of Grand Guignol horror that he had abandoned by the mid-'90s in pursuit of other genres.

Yojiro Takita, who directed enduring commercial hits like "The Ying Yang Master" and "The Yen Family," has made a popular gem -- thematically respectable, technically hard to fault, artfully scripted to entertain and touch.

Efficient enough to attract a cult audience.

A turgid mess of a film that has a lot of ideas on its mind, none of which prove very interesting or in fact coherent.

Earnest and slow, the film takes time to reveal its intentions and the result is worthy but not engaging.

The culinary setting gives this familiar formula an appetizing twist.

The effect is impressionistic and provocative, with the emphasis falling differently on scenes because of our knowledge or lack thereof.

Enlivened with droll wit and framed with robust sensitivity, O'Horten is an amusing and entrancing personal portrait. Succinct in its visualizations and crisp in its pacing, its deferential storytelling is in sync with its Odd subject.

Jessica Biel has great fun with the American adventuress, while Kristin Scott Thomas is truly scary as her nemesis and mother-in-law.

Some of that frenetic running around has been replaced by inspired effects sequences and amusing riffs by the talented cast, especially new arrivals Hank Azaria and Amy Adams.

The Wayans brothers manage to squeeze it all in to consistently amusing effect and in a way that just barely manages to stay within those PG-13 parameters.

This entertaining, inside-show-business documentary is greatly enhanced by the presence of the two engaging "boys" of the title -- brothers who found harmony through music and dissonance with each other.

In Arnold's absence, an important ingredient of the "Terminator" iconography -- namely, the fun factor -- is in short supply.

In preparing Burma VJ, Ostergaard decided to reconstruct some scenes with scripted dialogue -- in part to explain events, but also to protect the participants. This material, shot in darkened offices and apartments, feels both accurate and necessary.

Assayas makes the point that objects of fascination and affection to one generation may be far less so to the next. And he observes the role that people-friendly museums can play in keeping a nation's treasures safe with pleasing subtlety.

A couple of rather Dickensian supporting roles by Robbie Coltrane and Maximilian Schell fall embarrassingly flat as they are more creations of costumes and makeup than actual flesh-and-blood. But then the same can be said for the entire movie.

Plucking the same violent, occult strings as "Da Vinci" while avoiding its leadenness, Angels keeps the action coming for the best part of 139 minutes.

It's a well-constructed and thoughtfully paced drama and almost a thriller, but in the end credibility and tension get lost in the mail.

Ultimately delivers the goods, even if the goods aren't very fresh.

Shot on beautifully utilized film but employing images vividly from the Internet and mobile phones, it's an examination of the power that false ideas may have on people's imagination and beliefs when they are repeated over and over.

As Julia, Swinton belongs to that league of great cinematic alcoholics such as Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick in "Days of Wine and Roses" and Ray Milland in "The Lost Weekend." As an action character, she naturally evokes Gena Rowlands without ever trying to resemble her.

Ashes makes no claims to be an entirely accurate biopic; it's a speculative, impressionistic portrait without a lot of dramatic force or psychological depth. But it's an elegantly designed film that fascinates as often as it frustrates.

Has its moments, especially when lithe, beautiful bodies twirl themselves around the dance floor with appealing athleticism. But as a movie trying to deliver comedy, drama and romance, you might want to sit this one out. It's not terrible, mind you, but it just isn't very good.

There's a serious miscalculation when the lighthearted hijinks suddenly give way to a climactic scene of brutal violence.

Proves to be an engrossing and entertaining polemic that successfully walks a fine line between thoughtful debate and, well, juicy gossip.

Rudo y Cursi scores from every angle -- comic, personal and cross-cultural.

Paced at warp speed with spectacular action sequences rendered brilliantly and with a cast so expert that all the familiar characters are instantly identifiable.

So muted and internal in its focus that its entire running time feels like a preamble to a drama that never quite begins.

Unfortunately, the whole seldom adds up to the sum of its illustrious parts, and Jarmusch's trademark deadpan quirks seem to have gotten lost in the translation.

Hard luck conspires with bad sex in this unspectacular Austrian tale of crime and punishment.

A Wink and a Smile tries to tame burlesque, make it something to laugh at -- or worse, something that requires no skill.

The animation is splendid on what must have been, since this is not a studio film, a modest budget.

The movie clumps through one witless if not wince-evoking sequence after another without the relief of laughter.

An edgy entertainment, the movie also remarkably has the feel-good warmth of an old-time Irish film.

A film whose every shot seems lifted right off the wall of an art gallery and just as powerfully, if quietly, satisfying.

Feels surprisingly tame, coming off more like an extended advertisement for Grecco's coffee table book of the same name.

It's all an earnest effort, three decades too late.

One long wallow in sordidness.

Every move is telegraphed well in advance thanks to desultory writing, routine direction and ample musical cues.

In Channing Tatum, who also starred in "Saints," the film has a good-looking, magnetic hunk to draw a crowd. Terrence Howard lends the pedigree of great screen acting, and Zulay Henao adds charm and glamour.

The frequently outrageous Il Divo follows the career of one of the best-known and most tenacious figures in Italian political history in a lively, sensory-overload, cartoonlike fashion reminiscent of "Amelie" and "Moulin Rouge." The fact that it's often over-the-top goes with saying, and is part of the fun.

Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx are on fire in the lead roles: They're both charismatic as hell without sacrificing any of the emotional honesty necessary for you to believe that these movie stars are a scruffy reporter and a mentally ill musician.

The saving grace of Throw Down Your Heart is Fleck himself, who transcends the contrived unconventionality of the project to emanate a genuine warmth and camaraderie. This extraordinary performer remains shy, soft-spoken, simpatico and as unpretentious as he is talented.