Ice-bound black comedy boasts strong cast for an indie but can't quite decide what it wants to be.

The film doesn't have much in the way of genuine laughs despite a plethora of attempted gags, but it does have a geniality that makes it hard to entirely dislike.

Unfortunately, there's little wit or genuine suspense to elevate the proceedings above the level of a cheesy comic book.

If state-of-the-art cross-gender fat suits and drunken Chihuahuas were the stuff of comic genius, Big Momma's House 2 still wouldn't be very funny.

Nothing von Trier presents here, whether real or imagined, is fresh or new.

Alternately tedious and bombastic, the film never achieves a consistent tone, and the characters and situations, while seemingly played on a realistic level, are neither remotely credible nor satisfyingly surreal.

Even with the inspired choice of Steve Martin in the Clouseau role, this "Panther" picture is more bumbling and fumbling than the blissfully oblivious, accident-prone Inspector.

Everything today's young audiences are conditioned to want: incessant noise, jumpy editing, torrential music, shallow, overblown characters and sheer emptiness at its core. Imagine yourself trapped inside a two-hour video game, and you've got the Night Watch experience.

Strictly for the small-fry set, lacking the visual style, wit or imagination necessary to entice adult viewers.

A romantic and philosophical muddle.

Has an impressive visual style that reveals its director's music-video experience. Unfortunately, that's about all it has going for it because its sluggish pacing and confusing story line will prevent it from appealing to all but the most rabid J-horror fans.

Few films have ever ended on such a low, anti-climatic note as The Zodiac.

A well-meaning but hopelessly stilted melodrama, Hate Crime sacrifices good intentions with its mediocrity of execution.

A painfully earnest but dramatically inert film.

Morrissey gives a stiff, awkward performance, while Stone moves dangerously close to overplaying the femme fatale. There is little if any intrigue in the story or the characters. Even the murders don't even seem to matter much.

The film is a relentlessly loud and ultimately exhausting exercise only partially leavened by the usual heavy doses of wisecracking humor and visual gags.

The biggest disappointment is the rigorously rote nature of the characters and story line in Geoff Rodkey's script

Da Vinci never rises to the level of a guilty pleasure. Too much guilt. Not enough pleasure.

Its deadly serious take on the subject may inspire more titters than anything else.

The film is filled with deeply unpleasant and stupid people whose vapid speech is largely incomprehensible due to thick regional accents.

The release date is the most original thing about it.

This less than subtly titled documentary by Mark Birnbaum and Jim Schermbeck will undoubtedly find few viewers.

While a huge hit in its native country, is neither arty nor truly thrilling enough to greatly impress American audiences.

This lifeless, talky, family-oriented feature never manages to rise to the occasion of its witty title.

About as subtle as its all too obvious title would suggest.

Audiences will have to seek out their own peculiar diversions in order to last the whole course of this demi-dud.

In this lukewarm climate of pointless remakes and uninspired sequels there's always welcome room for a film that wants to push the envelope, Shadowboxer merely crams it with a lot of nonsense.

Sour, joyless affair.