Ultimately, the film works best when viewed as a tone poem that examines the present through the prism of the past.

A pitch-perfect parody of poverty row horror/sci-fi pictures of the 1950s, Larry Blamire's meticulous takeoff could easily be taken for the real thing, which is both its genius and its Achilles heel.

Actor-turned-director Andrey Zvyagintsev's feature debut is haunted by an elusive past and suffused with dread about the future, and it's all suggestion without explanation.

In its own quiet way, it's among the most important films you're likely to see this year.

Powerful stuff from writer-director Li Yang that's both an uncompromising indictment of the human cost of China's evolving market economy and an nail-bitingly suspenseful thriller.

Brian Robbins (Varsity Blues) actually has a clear sense of the way 21st-century teenagers behave, and his sleek style keeps the film moving briskly.

Ultimately Stokes remains true to his music video roots and relies on the film's flashy voltage dance scenes and frenetic pacing to keep viewers' attention from wandering.

Entertaining documentary.

Cox, a fifth-generation Mormon whose own story isn't too far from that of Elder Davis, shows how much of Aaron's strength derives directly from his faith, while even the most homophobic of Cox's characters demonstrate a capacity for both charity and, possibly, change.

A grim neo-noir thriller.

Gutierrez keeps some of Leonard's tart dialogue, but not enough to hide the fact that the story has no momentum -- those gratuitous shots of pro-sufers shooting curls don't compensate -- and there's zero chemistry between the whiny Wilson and Foster, who has yet to make the transition from model to actress.

This sweet trifle is infinitely more enjoyable than the gross-out romantic comedies that proliferated in the wake of "There's Something About Mary."

Stunningly beautiful scenery and the nearly unbelievable true story of a mountain-climbing expedition gone awry to chilling effect.

Kutcher's performance isn't terrible, but the brilliant, bewildered, increasingly desperate Evan is the film's center, and grounding its flights of fantasy in rock-solid emotional reality is more than Kutcher can manage.

It's never dull: Shalhoub's direction is smart, the dialogue is tart and the Adams' family shares a palpable intimacy that translates directly onto the screen.

Often fascinating.

A romantic comedy whose no-holds-barred gross-out elements sour an already graceless mix of crude pratfalls and heartache.

Should have been pared down into an episode of the series.

The final irony is that it's tailored for a PG-13 audience: The violence is bloodless, the sex is all come-on and the surreally reckless stunts cater to viewers too young to drive.

Even if you think you know a little something about world music, Cuba's cultural riches may come as a surprise.

Features phenomenally beautiful background animation and complex characterizations, and offers glimpses of a poverty-stricken Tokyo underclass that's rarely featured -- let alone portrayed sympathetically -- in mainstream Japanese films.

The film's bleakly inevitable ending packs a wallop and its hauntingly desolate images linger long after the story is told.

Mark Moormann's documentary tends to the worshipful, but Dowd, a charmer onscreen, was by all accounts just as appealing in real life.

The bizarrely entertaining relationship that blossoms between Sciorra and Piven is far more amusing and convincing, which only underscores the lack of chemistry between the dewy leads.

As to the dream sequence featuring Lonnie's and Brandy's trash-talking babies, it's just creepy.

Broomfield's film is typically self-aggrandizing but filled with unsettling moments.

What makes the movie's power creditable is Pontecorvo's ability to present combatants on both sides as multidimensional, nonheroic human beings, even though it's obvious where the director's own sentiments lie. (Review of original release)

While the film captures all the beauty of these extraordinary pieces, the details of Saint Laurent's legendarily turbulent personal life are glossed over with frustrating tact.

It would be hard to mount a straight-faced defense of Brisseau's feverish moral tale, complete with a lurking angel of death, but the carnal machinations are hugely entertaining -- particularly if you like your skin with a bracing sermon chaser.

Toni Collette's extraordinary performance, Alison Tilson's sensitive script and Ian Baker's sensational cinematography add up to a surprising film.

Not much happens on the surface of Hou Hsiao Hsien's latest film...Nevertheless, it can break your heart.

Generally amusing -- if occasionally overly sentimental.

Allows the supporting cast to steal the movie.

Affleck is no more convincing as a flesh-and-blood action than as a superbrain, Thurman is cruelly photographed and director Woo appears to be imitating his own worst work.

Simultaneously groundbreaking and remarkably faithful to the classic play.

Though the ballets themselves are beautifully shot, they lean heavily in the direction of gimmicky and prop-heavy pieces; they're visually interesting but, by and large, they're not great dance.

Young Tamimi is a terrific rider but a lackluster screen presence, and the film's brevity ensures that her trials have a perfunctory quality that keeps them from being truly compelling.

In the end it appears that the problem is less divorce per se than immature and deeply selfish parents who should never have had children in the first place.

Ricci's less flashy characterization of the immature Selby is equally skilled and meshes seamlessly with Theron's uncompromising performance.

From her speech patterns to her body language, Roberts's performance is wrong for the period.

They're answers that will either earn your respect, or further damn him as the architect of an American nightmare.

Perleman has little control over his characters; they simply go to pieces in the most ludicrous ways. He has even less control over Kingsley, who soon slips into full-blown Yul Brynner mode.

The film's heart is the relationship between Elsa and Julien, and stars Bouanich and Serrault have a lovely onscreen rapport that's truly endearing.

The caliber of the cast, led by Mirren and Walters, elevates the material above movie-of-the-week level, and viewers can relish seeing these fine actresses play against type.

You don't have to be Jewish to love Jonathan Kesselman's uneven, profane and occasionally flat-out hilarious parody of vintage blaxploitation pictures, but it helps.

Despite its length, the film only starts feeling as long at the end -- or, more correctly, ends. Serious fans of the novels will be prepared for the serial codicils, but the uninitiated are likely to think the film is over several times before it actually is.

The excuse given here that Gerron couldn't resist one last opportunity to direct, even under the most grotesque circumstances, is really no excuse at all.

Webber's assured directing is evident throughout; in addition to eliciting strong performances from his cast, he always knows when to linger on an image and when to move on.

Norman Jewison's honorable but stodgy exercise in ethical outrage, based on Brian Moore's acclaimed 1996 novel, fairly aches to be called a thinking man's thriller.

All the money in the world couldn't have saved actress-turned-filmmaker Troy Beyer's lewd, obnoxious, product placement-laden remake of the sweet and simple romantic comedy "Can't Buy Me Love."

A whiz at crafting conventional Hollywood screenplays, Meyers's direction is overreliant on close-ups and medium shots; there's no life to any of the images. Still, the film coasts along smoothly on the charisma of its stars.

Here the message -- it's not nice to ridicule, mistreat or ignore people just because they're different -- verges on the oppressive; more of the Farrellys' trademark over-the-top comedy would have lightened the load.

There's enough information packed into Paul Devlin's documentary about the woes besieging the former Soviet republic of Georgia for two movies.

Subtle performances and the "you are there" immediacy conferred by digital video give Roy's film the feel of a series of stolen moments.

Such astringent details as a banjo player plucking a few ominous notes from "Dueling Banjos" when Ed first lays eyes on the Norman Rockwellian beauty of Spectre ensure that the story's fundamental sweetness never becomes cloying.

Davidson's young cast is remarkable, engaging and guilelessly funny without being so cute that their calculated actions ring false.

Alba, constantly sporting off-the-shoulder tops a la "Flashdance," brings no depth of feeling to her character, and her average -- often wooden -- moves make it hard to believe she's a uniquely talented hoofer and sought-after choreographer.

Unwilling to offend, Zwick whitewashes a culture in which brutality and contemplative beauty were inextricably intertwined and, afraid to alienate audiences, he shies away from the story's logical downbeat conclusion, replacing it with an "ambiguous" ending that recalls, of all things, "The Road Warrior."

The constant flow of background images can be distracting, but this is nonetheless a fascinating film that offers an unexpected and valuable perspective on the on-going Arab-Israeli conflict.

Boulanger is completely captivating as the kind of kid Truffaut would have adored, but it's Sharif's show. Next to his portrayal of Yuri in "Dr. Zhivago", this may be role for which he'll be best remembered.

Newcomer Grace seems born to the part of an unformed young woman whose character cries out to be shaped, but it's Ivey's unobtrusive skill that shapes their onscreen relationship into something thoroughly convincing.

Powerful and startlingly unsentimental.

Perry's careful juxtaposition of images showing the town's sad present with footage of what it's long ceased to be is positively haunting.

The film is marvelously acted -- the Bolger sisters are a delight -- and Sheridan captures New York City's crazy energy as only an newcomer can.

The manic energy of the lively and outrageous opening sequence sets a tone and pace the film can't maintain.

The screenplay just isn't funny: Most jokes fall flat and just lie there in a pool of their own sick. And while Zwigoff's deadpan pacing was perfect for the wry, sophisticated humor of "Ghost World," here it's a comedy killer; that extra beat after each new outrage is just long enough for viewers to realize just how sad and disturbing it all is.

It's notoriously difficult to balance lighthearted humor with the spookiness a good ghost story requires, but director Rob Minkoff is surprisingly successful, delivering a satisfying mix of laughs and mild scares aimed at a young audience.

This dreary science-fiction/historical-action hybrid is a misfire of staggering proportions.

Trapero again proves himself a master of mood, evoking the gritty, workaday world of contemporary Argentina that helped establish him as one of the most important young directors of the new Argentine cinema.

Strong performances -- Baldwin's smoothly vicious Shelley is a revelation -- and Kramer's eye for the striking detail give the familiar material its own distinctive flavor.

Aside from a little eleventh-hour pseudo-mysticism about death and the weight of the soul, the story is really little more than a unusually gripping thriller.

Frenetic and cheerless action aside, the film's real problem is the Cat, who looks most unmagically like a second-string college sports mascot and conducts himself like a risque baggy-pants comedian.

A gloomy-doomy ghost story that gets off to a creepy start and then spirals into flat-out preposterousness.

If the banter lacks the often brilliant and erudite -- if showy -- sparkle of its predecessor, the acting is still first-rate, and the film will be best enjoyed by fans eager to spend another 90 minutes with a group of old friends.

The story is predictable, but Reeder's performance is painfully convincing and the East Village locations so uniformly grimy that they all but weep despair.

Slight but affecting.

This amateurish comedy features some amazing sequences shot in Moscow. But everything else about it is second rate.

The scene transitions are sometimes jarring, but the story unfolds like a particularly juicy bit of small-town gossip, one that's told by a particularly vivid storyteller.

The bones of a great Western remain barely visible under the layer of mush he and screenwriter Ken Kaufman smooth over them, reminders of the viciously memorable film that might have been.

Masharawi's use of actual footage of clogged roadblocks and scary police actions bring a topical immediacy to his film, but it also asks an important question about the relevance of art during a time of crisis.

Sweet-natured charmer in its own right.

With the exception of a brief sequence on the Galapagos Islands, where Maturin briefly indulges in some pre-Darwinian study of its unique ecosystem, the entire film takes place aboard the ship, and Weir's greatest accomplishment may be that it never feels claustrophobic.

Fraser's goofiness matches that of the animated characters and he cheerfully pokes fun at his celebrity persona, while Elfman is oddly appealing as a strong woman who must seek help from a wascally wabbit.

The irony is that Shakur's speaking voice is the film's greatest asset: His transformation from eager-to-please teenager to gangsta icon is vividly apparent in the sound bites.

The cast isn't bad but the movie is, and Amir's use of Holocaust imagery is cheap and unnecessary; Jo and Alexander could just as easily have died on the Titanic. At one point the dialogue is completely drowned out by the roar of the surf, and that is no doubt a blessing.

This semiautobiographical work by Federico Fellini was the first film to bring him a measure of world attention.

A murder mystery wrapped in an experimental portrait of life in a rural Hungarian town, writer-director Gyorgy Palfi's engrossing feature debut is a breathtaking feat of filmmaking.

The scenes from Epidemic have the high-contrast look of a 1920s horror film, are in English (much of it badly dubbed) and feature images that are handsome and preposterous in equal parts -- they're amusing, and too stylized to be disturbing.

The actors do their best with their one-dimensional roles, and the film is worth seeing, if only to watch Garr, Harry Dean Stanton, and Allan Goorwitz. Tom Waits provided the Oscar-nominated score. (review of original release)

It's a beautifully constructed, often disturbing look at a day in the life of several down-at-the-heels denizens of Recife.

This touching documentary is many things at once: a fascinating biography, a gorgeously shot travelogue, a provocative disquisition on the relevance of architecture and, above all, the record of a son's poignant search for a father.

Director Jon Favreau keeps the guy-in-an-elf-suit act from degenerating into a too-long sketch, focusing on Buddy's naïve optimism, even in the face of harsh reality.

Frequently funny, generally fizzy and occasionally piercingly perceptive about the price love exacts.

The slim story gets swamped by the stunning visuals.

Entertaining in spite its dubious accuracy.

A truly trangressive film as unsettling as it is psychologically acute.

Ask New York-based filmmaker Amos Poe, who badly botches this profile of the artist with a sloppy structure, careless editing and amateurish optical effects that detract from what's actually good about the film: Earle's music.

The result is rather like eavesdropping on a bright but painfully self-absorbed adolescent's secret thoughts: sometimes fascinating, other times just infuriating.