Documentaries are a hard sell these days, and despite the timely, pertinent subject, the film simply doesn't have enough entertainment value to draw an audience to the multiplex.

Whimpers a bit like "Rosemary's Baby" and gurgles occasionally like "The Exorcist," but the video look and bare-bones craftsmanship all scream B movie.

It Might Get Loud offers a thrilling personal tour of three exceptional electric guitarists' careers that's equally appealing to musicians and rock enthusiasts alike.

It comes off as an unpleasant, unrealistic morality tale. Loaded with music and pretty bodies, the film has a chance to lasso a young, indiscriminate audience of Kutcher fans.

For a film so pessimistic about mankind, Taxidermia erupts with some light-hearted technical inspiration: Cinematographer Gergely Poharnok's compositions are wickedly hilarious, while production designer Adrien Asztalos' concoctions are peculiarly gross.

Becomes a bracing portrait of three fascinating individuals who use this work as a means to keep living.

It's still a gimmicky, tricked-out tale that is all too self-aware. But the film does keep you guessing and probably guessing wrong.

As enjoyable as this foodie movie is, you wish it would take a deeper, more nuanced measure of the women who, in two different eras, star in the movie's kitchens.

Giamatti is aptly cast, playing his own persona with awkward anxiety and suitably skewed humor.

After nearly two hours of nonstop mayhem, the film ends on a surprisingly muted note, though pains have been taken to make sure that the hoped-for sequel has been carefully set up.

This is another rough-edged, noodling affair in which genial but frustratingly self-absorbed twenty- and thirty-somethings chatter on and on about their lives, loves and finances.

The result is smart, gruesome and inventive enough to more than please niche genre fans who are likely to spread the word to fellow admirers of gallows humor.

A "hybrid documentary" that bemusedly blurs the line between fact and fiction.

Apatow is on the right track. In moving his adolescent male comedies into more adult realms, the humor sharpens and characters deepen.

Shot rivetingly by cinematographer Brooke Aitken, who combines digital, night-vision and thermal-imaging formats into a formidable package, the footage is edited tautly by Geoffrey Richman and enhanced measurably by J. Ralph's suspenseful score.

Stunning production quality and the story's extremity should arouse interest beyond the specialty Asian market.

The movie is awfully close to a video game with its own specific rules, but its characters are appealing and funny, "Aliens" doesn't have a mechanical feel that drags down most video-game movies.

In the absence of a sturdy, plausible foundation on which to hook all those grisly bits, the film, originally a Dimension release, tends to play out more like a protracted "Saw" outtake reel.

Beyond mere titillation -- and some good-natured laughs at the expense of genre cliches -- Not Quite Hollywood has a sociological edge.

This searing, stylish account of World War II heroism from Denmark's Ole Christian Madsen avoids period realism, conveying the story of two heroes of the Danish resistance as a noir thriller, complete with shadowy alleys, double-crosses galore and the requisite femme fatale.

This small journey of self-discovery, even at an advanced age, mirrors the larger one Berinstein so fondly addresses here and leaves you with that oh-so-rare but genuine warm and fuzzy feeling.

A sensitive but not sentimental story about a romance involving a mentally challenged young man never makes a misstep.

Painfully funny satire of British and American bureaucrats in the days leading up to the Iraq War.

Furhman plays pure evil with such supreme calmness that only her eyes shine with madness. Indeed, all of the child actors are superb, especially the expressive Engineer.

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.