Shades of "Like Water for Chocolate" and "Chocolat" -- but unlike the latter's tender Juliette Binoche-Johnny Depp romance, the ordained Rai-McDermott union fails to generate any convincing heat, and no amount of cardamom pods or lotus root is going to help.

Greengrass has made not only a thoroughly fact-checked film but a film that uncontrovertibly comes from the heart.

Spends an inordinate amount of time ogling the tight, lithe bodies of its young female characters. Thus, what might have appealed only to teen girls might well have crossover appeal to leering young boys as well.

Effectively anchoring the picture is Keke Palmer's lovely lead performance as Akeelah Anderson.

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

Golhardt's screenplay has enough quirkily charming moments to compensate for its plethora of stereotypical characters and cliched situations, and director Sherry Hormann provides a light enough touch to make the proceedings palatable, if not quite enjoyable.

A handsome production but one that struggles to integrate its various elements -- cabaret-society glamour, intellectual fervor, family drama, impossible romance and droll humor.

Exquisite storytelling, acting and visuals.

Mixes comedy and melodrama to a typically baroque degree. Like his "Oldboy" and "Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance," the film displays an audacious visual and narrative style, often sacrificing credibility and coherence along the way. But there is no denying its originality.

Aspires to the poetic but falls short because of a lack of dynamism.

Soulful performance by non-pro Pape Sidy Niang as the bicycle-riding police officer Z, gives the film a poetic tone, but cumulative impact is diffused rather than enhanced by the fractured form.

In this deep probe into modern-day medicine, the old guy is shuttled from hospital to hospital in a surreal, horrifying ordeal of errors, missed diagnoses and institutional malaise. At two hours and 34 minutes, we, seemingly, also endure his agony -- part of this Romanian film's power and, also, its Achilles heel.

Three Times offers a careful examination of the changing ways people have reacted to each other during the past 100 years. As such, it's an interesting essay but certainly a minor work from a master.

A film with none of the heart that has characterized Weitz's best work and none of the freshness of his most successful.

A slick enough thriller about a presidential assassination attempt. It is also a rather mechanical, soulless affair that avoids politics or anything else that might clearly define who these characters are and why we should care.

Witless, soulless and joyless, it displays its video game origins throughout.

With Somersault, filmmaker Cate Shortland has expertly served up a vivid and touching tale, one told many times before, but in this well-realized mounting, one that sparkles with fresh awareness.

Sets out to be a baby "Big Chill" but plays out like an unsold Fox pilot.

Provides a treasure trove of outrageous characters, rampant speculation, personal obsessions and a glimpse into the rarefied world of art collecting. Instead of spinning off in so many directions, the film actually pulls together into an engrossing meditation on the value of art in our lives.

The humor emphasizes quantity over quality, but the batting average isn't too bad. And where else can you witness Leslie Nielsen do a nude scene?

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

To pull this kind of thing off you need exceptional performances, and the two leads rise commandingly to the challenge. Wilson, best known for his work in the screen version of "The Phantom of the Opera" and HBO's "Angels in America," keeps his true colors effectively muted throughout the bulk of their face-off, but it is Page who astonishes.

While Gretchen Mol delivers a delightfully exuberant lead performance, the film itself seldom goes beyond skin deep.

The best Australian film to hit local screens in more than a year. Although lacking any internationally renowned actors to win more than limited release, the film's energy and stylistic daring mark it as a true original.

The movie, which opened last week in Seattle and opens Friday in Los Angeles, isn't so much getting a release as an escape. The movie is directed, shot, acted and outfitted with special effects -- such as that guy (Michael Deak) in the monster suit -- so as to make American International horror films of the late '50s and '60s look like sophisticated gems.

The project is not without insights into Hancock's career and musical philosophy and holds moments of inspiration with these stars. Yet the result does feel a bit promotional as the focus is on a particular CD and not on the sum and substance of this keyboard legend's extraordinary career.

It is a grimly exciting film that is picturesque and brutal by turns.

Essentially a telenovela with cinematic pretensions, La Mujer de Mi Hermano (My Brother's Wife) is a vapid slab of soap depicting a love triangle among three remarkably uninteresting characters.