Its highly informative recounting of this little-known tragic tale provides a vivid reminder of the ephemerality of civilizations.

Tale of the Cultural Revolution is strictly for scholars and students.

While its blending of philosophy and B-movie conventions will produce more bemused chuckles than converts, the film certainly earns points for sheer audacity.

This endlessly derivative, nearly unwatchable effort from debuting Italian director Christian Filipella is amateurish on every level.

You know a movie’s in trouble when it’s most dramatic element is the breaking of a piñata.

Although ragged in its presentation and frustratingly unfocused in its storytelling, Babe’s and Ricky’s Inn is an endearing cinematic valentine that pays well-deserved tribute to a vanished musical institution.

Attempting to be a meditation on the nature of creative passion and the emotionally liberating effects of physical labor, Triumph of the Wall is as much of an exercise in frustration for the viewer as for its hapless protagonist.

The film is an inspiration for those seeking hope in desperate urban neighborhoods.

Its basis in reality is undermined by Gupta’s overly stylized approach and too many camera tricks, though the ‘80s costumes are striking and the actors wear them well. Performances are broad, but effective, throughout.

Featuring a plethora of unsavory characters, undeveloped subplots and a confusingly jagged narrative, this extremely low-budget effort is mainly notable for its willingness to get down and dirty.

Manages to be reasonably diverting even as it proves inevitably minor in its impact.

Copeland's film benefits from a cast familiar from such offbeat TV comedies as "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" and "Parks and Recreation," but it tends to embody conventions instead of subverting them, resulting in a product with only a bit more personality than the generic caffeine dispensary at its heart.

Deeply unpleasant to watch with little edification to offer in compensation.

The film's diagnosis -- money's corrupting influence, the tendency of powerful people to entrench themselves -- is hardly new, but it's voiced here with enough smarts and conviction to earn respect from non-plutocrat viewers of all political stripes.

Director Vincent Sandoval (Senorita) seems most interested in is using the convent as a metaphor for Filipino society in the Seventies, which buried its head in the sand while president Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law and police tortured and murdered opposition protestors.

Doesn’t exactly dig very deep, but its often fascinating archival footage and stories of royal lineage dating back to the days of Queen Victoria (who bore no less than nine children) surely will delight devoted Anglophiles.

Tiny Times certainly offers fantastical lifestyles which is nearly unattainable for most of its viewers. But what makes the film even more beguiling is probably its inability to create empathy, as it goes without accounting for where these individuals came from and why their friendships were so rock-solid.

Only the bravura of the cast, first and foremost Park and Lee (both veterans of Unbowed), generates sufficient interest to see the film through to its surprising conclusion, recounted in a respectful coda many years later.

A Strange Brand of Happy is being billed as a “faith-friendly romantic comedy,” but its overall ineptness has the inadvertent impact of making you lose faith in romantic comedies altogether.

Beautifully played and impeccably lit and composed, this high-quality family drama takes its time to introduce its flawed but human protagonists and then steadily builds toward a payoff that’s at once cathartic and artfully restrained.

Heavily dependent on Wes Anderson's aesthetic but charming nonetheless.

It offers scant insight to go along with its simplistic homilies about the power of faith and the reassuring presence of God.

The level of socially accepted discrimination exposed here provokes both heartbreak and anger.

None of the characters,--whether human, fantastical, or anthropomorphically animal—prove remotely engaging. And the cheap animation, the sort of low-grade CGI endemic to endless direct-to-video efforts, proves visually unappealing.

Some of the film’s acerbic touches are welcome, but Snitch doesn’t offer nearly enough fresh variations on the Scarface formula.

Although a rather self-congratulatory air intermittently hangs over the film, the accomplishments of the participants and the popularity of motorcycling speak for themselves, without the need for superfluous commentary.

Directors Sean Fine and Andrea Nix Fine have fashioned an informative, emotionally uplifting saga of the powers of optimism and persistence in the face of the cruelest odds.

The film is more impressionistic than informative, lacking the necessary dramatic structure to make it truly compelling.

Comes up so short it effectively demonstrates that there are actually a few rungs below Z-grade fare.

Despite the effective performances by its young lead performers, California Scheming mainly comes across as half-baked.

A quietly effective thriller with a few clever narrative tricks up its sleeve.

Gori Tere Pyaar Mein’s characters are so engaging, and the stars complement each other so well, that it’s easy to overlook the film’s faults and wish the best for them.

Personal Tailor is, indeed, a sad example of an once eagle-eyed director losing touch with his audience.

The proceedings are largely engrossing and the performances are mostly excellent, with especially strong turns by the female leads.

Though on paper the idea has some potential -- as a historical meditation on the suffering of East Berliners and the arbitrary nature of borders -- its execution stumbles on multiple fronts.

A loving biography of a guitarist whose work was "not folk, not blues, not gospel," but drew from and colored those genres and more.

A breathtakingly immersive travelogue that packs a persuasive environmental undercurrent.

A cinematic hangout with a playfully prickly but very sympathetic subject, affording us a chance to sit at his feet while sampling a body of work that impresses on many levels.

Concerned more with inspirational messages than dramatic subtlety, it remains an item best suited to believers.

Almost all of the performances achieve perfect pitch. This is a tribute to Lundgren’s direction, and he also makes excellent use of the serene Oregon locations.

Lacking sufficient self-parody to entertain as a campy monster-movie spoof, or the budget to thrill as action adventure or sci-fi, much like the creature it depicts, Poseidon Rex represents a throwback that even its own distributor can't really get behind.

Documentary will play best with very serious classical fans.

Whatever doubts the viewer may share about the true circumstances of this tragic event are quickly erased by the ineptness with which the story is dramatized.

This fascinating tale is told with uncommon depth and nuance.

The English dubbing is far from picture-perfect, with uneven voice performances and choppy synchronization dulling some of the material’s spark.

Acutely nailing the dysfunctional stand-up milieu both on- and off-stage, the micro-budgeted film is more a wryly-etched character sketch than an involvingly-plotted proposition, but it still manages to leave an impression thanks to Joshua Burge’s convincingly-inhabited lead performance.

Taking an approach that's as unassuming as its almost instantly lovable subject, the film neither plays up the novelty of teens obsessed with Bible trivia nor attempts to gin up fake intrigue.

Although the situation seems to have thankfully been resolved several years ago due to the pressure applied by governments and international organizations, Desert Riders nonetheless serves as a bracing cautionary tale.

Despite some evocative moments...the film is too elliptical and fragmented to have the desired impact. It ultimately leaves the viewer, much like its hero, in a state of dazed confusion.

Elliptical storytelling is both a strength and a weakness in a visually striking mystery thriller.

The doc highlights undeniably important realities; but it doesn't find a narrative that sustains feature treatment.

School Dance is the sort of oppressively offensive comedy that makes you aware of your brain cells dying as you watch it.

Strong performances by Lily Rabe and LisaGay Hamilton aren’t quite enough to redeem Redemption Trail.

Deng and Yu have delivered a ceaseless juggernaut of incoherently-strung together gags like a lightweight Stephen Chow; this could make Adam Sandler, who could easily be imagined dabbling in something like this, look like a nuanced artist.

Commercial director Bruce Macdonald’s first feature film feels curiously inert.

Aside from the ponderously contrived narrative, however, which mines a long list of supposedly relatable female insecurities and neuroses, much of the characterization relies on one-dimensional stereotyping.

Indeed, all this teeters closely to all-out tastelessness, but what makes 3.0 even more unbearable than its predecessors is the sheer ineptitude beneath the glossy surface: the laughable narrative, scatterbrained storytelling and inconsistent characterizations basically magnify the previous film's flaws to an improbable extreme.

It's commonly expected that a self-described "thriller" should deliver some, well, thrills, but actor-director Zoe Quist's self-indulgent third feature turns out to be practically inert.

There is a clear sense here that Coixet is completely out of her depth in this genre exercise, which is all excessive surfaces and no tension, however hard the music and sound effects try to tell audiences otherwise.

This smart HBO documentary convicts the media coverage and trial itself as guilty to Farce in the First Degree.

Much of the naval action is realistically and thrillingly staged with blazing cannon fire and slashing swordplay that sufficiently diverts attention from the sometimes unrealistic special effects.

While its provocative themes certainly bear exploring in our sex-obsessed societal landscape, The Olivia Experiment is too superficial and cliche-ridden to make them resonate, and its attempts at humor fall thuddingly flat.

John Wellington Ennis’ scattershot documentary has many relevant points to make, but the problem is that they’re not made very well and almost all of them have been made before.

A peculiar and frustrating portrait of a man coping with chronic illness by indulging in carnal and intellectual pleasures, Angela Christlieb's Naked Opera presents itself as a documentary but is unconcerned with answering even the most basic questions viewers will have about its subject.

Its resolutely low-key approach doesn’t make for particularly compelling drama.

Nalin and cinematographers Anuj Dhawan and Swapnil Sonawane do an admirable job profiling the experiences of their selected subjects, although some trimming of the 115-minute runtime would help tighten the narrative focus.

This small gem offers a lovely evocation of Spain as well as a touching tribute to an unforgettable moment in time when the Beatles seemed to offer brand new possibilities, the idea that strawberry fields might indeed go on forever.

A fly-on-the-wall portrait that provides a vivid reminder that children around the world don't have it nearly as lucky as those in America, with the daunting, UNICEF-provided statistics delivered at the end hopefully inciting a spur to action.

Henry & Me is a heartwarming tale that should prove irresistible to young baseball fans.

Though it’s strictly for the faithful, the tween-friendly mix of cute and earnest has a forthright sharpness and is never cloying.

Some of the film’s most effective moments are masterful in their visual storytelling skill.

More than just a sip of fizzy fun, this 3-hour comedy is Jeroboam-sized. Farah Khan’s Happy New Year is an ambitious musical, a love story, an Oceans 11-style crime caper and an ensemble comedy.

Delusions of Guinevere is a savvy if uneven satire.

Stones in the Sun occasionally suffers from didactic excess but nonetheless offers an intriguing look at this underexposed community.

To that end there are segments of Jal that just don’t work, but there are just as many that do, even when the film’s construction is occasionally boggling.

The screenplay, written by French arthouse writer-director Antoine Barraud (Les gouffres) with an assist from U.S. scribe Edwards, too often seems to be under the mistaken impression that making a movie for kids means everything needs to be overly spelled out, especially by using as many short-hand clichés as possible.

A Little Game is a sweetly well-intentioned effort that displays a personal stamp even while occasionally descending into mawkishness.

Despite the storyline's inherent drama, the meandering Freetown, much like the characters it depicts, takes far too long to get to its destination.

All the actors know how to turn on the charm and director Johnnie To hits the laugh buttons, but the main aim seems to be playing on women’s fantasies about three very hot guys who are dying to drop everything and fall in love.

The conceit is pure genre fluff, but the underlying economics make less sense upon closer inspection... That said, Maiga projects so much intelligence and integrity it's hard not to warm to her character and she has believable chemistry of the mismatched kind with Boublil, who's up to his usual but quite charming shtick.

Proceeding at a glacial pace, the film bearing no small resemblance to the far superior "Girl, Interrupted."

The film deftly pokes fun at the foibles of earthlings — especially their warring religions — with warmth and compassion, and shines a light on the contradictions of India’s strict but unwritten social rules.

Screenwriter Adam Chanzit and director Gabriel Cowan don’t have the same flair for eloquent dialogue or vivid character creation. Instead they offer a lot of turgid exchanges filled with regret and recrimination.

A loving, painterly evocation of a famously mysterious area of Spain, Coast of Death is a fine celebration of a landscape, but also of the people whose lives have been shaped by it.

Unfortunately, A Convenient Truth doesn’t manage to sustain its comic premise over the course of even its admittedly brief feature-length running time. The thin joke would seem more appropriate fodder for a brief sketch towards the end of a Saturday Night Live episode when time needs to be filled.

Immersive in ways that not many movies can claim, Humpback Whales is a prime example of the power of large-format documentaries to educate, delight and inspire.

This is not to say that there isn't plenty of obvious truth and common sense in many of the film's assertions. But then again, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

Despite its effort to double as a sincerely impassioned message about female empowerment, My Way mainly comes across as a relentlessly self-serving promotional vehicle.

The film is most successful when it concentrates on its subject’s personal life. His candor in discussing his sexuality and other subjects is endlessly refreshing in this era when politicians are mostly defined by their timidity.

Featuring enough clanging sword fights, severed limbs, slit throats and bare-bones dialogue to satisfy genre fans while pretty much failing to provide something of interest to anyone else, Sword of Vengeance has the feel of an 11th century-set video game.

The film never quite registers with the desired emotional impact, having the feel of an ambiguous short story rather than a fully-fleshed out drama. But the evocative imagery and subtly piercing performances provide a vivid portrait of lives of quiet desperation.

While it might have made for a mildly diverting stage thriller — the hugely successful Deathtrap, for instance, was built on similarly absurd contrivances — the endlessly talky 3 Holes and a Smoking Gun founders onscreen.

It doesn't shy away from pointing out the many inconveniences suffered along the way. But it also vividly illustrates that as we sit in our too cramped coach seats, attempting to pass the time with various diversions, that we are also taking part in a modern miracle about which our ancestors could never have dreamed.

A compact, nicely twisting script, classy performances and quality visuals are the hallmarks of a film which, though short on psychological nuance, over-long and lacking in the directorial distinctiveness that might have made it really special, still delivers in all the key departments.

Loosely inspired by real events, the plot is time-scrambled and non-linear, hinting at Quentin Tarantino levels of post-modern playfulness that sadly never materialize.

Despite these lapses and a padded running time, this film does burst with fascinating inside lore.

Sagnier and especially Baye try to locate the heart in their cartoonish maternal characters, and newcomer Lasseron is at least a warm and spunky presence in a role that's severely underwritten, though all of them are frequently upstaged by all the bells and whistles newcomer Neel feels he needs to keep throwing at the screen in order to mask the fact there's not much of story in the first place.

A slickly made, utterly incomprehensible potboiler.