This is a brave, groundbreaking film.

Berlevag's 1300 inhabitants are by nature hardy and uncomplaining, but Knut Erik Jensen's unhurried documentary reveals that there's more to them than mere stoicism.

Powerfully acted, intensely carnal drama.

The film is rich in period detail and a keen visual sense of irony, but it's curiously static; scenes that blister the pages of Miller's novel barely move.

The film only gains its footing in the final half hour, when Griffin and Solvang interview a healer who regularly performs female circumcisions and, finally, two people who actually have AIDS.

The most affecting parts of this film are its quieter, character-driven moments, and it's beautifully acted; if there is indeed an "Argentinean New Wave" afoot, Brédice might be its Anna Karina.

An astonishing act of synthesis, bringing together disparate Ripper theories and a fiercely idiosyncratic version of London's history, architecture, policing and social structure.

While the film is shot in shades of gray, the drama is played out in black and white.

Added bonuses: A nice selection of oldies on the soundtrack, and an amusing third-act cameo by Rosie Perez as Ray's second wife.

A collection of interconnected vignettes shot as live-action digital video footage which is then 'fed into' computer animation software, Linklater's latest film is an audacious, ambitious undertaking. There's a surreal yet consistent logic to it, which is the film's biggest accomplishment.

For all the casual terribleness it records, it is entertainment; the characters are real and fleshed-out, and we care about what happens to them.

An excellent guide to some of the highlights of post-World War II Italian cinema.

Contains striking moments, but never coheres.

The camerawork is crude and the editing seems almost accidental, but it's really all about the writing, which is strong throughout; Seaton has a sharp ear for convincingly conversational dialogue.

The voices of the architects, developers, public officials and contractors here discussing the specifics of particular sites, we're hearing the voices of a conflicted nation as it considers how to handle its tumultuous past while defining itself for future generations.

Though clearly shot on a shoestring, it's handsome, tightly written and generally well acted.

Hoch's considerable skill speaks to an extraordinary empathy and a willingness to understand where even the toughest customer is coming from.

Overall the mix of comedy and action is smooth and utterly enjoyable.

The comedy is fairly light and the romance decidedly offbeat.

This broad, coarse farce is otherwise as insubstantial a piece of work as you could possibly imagine; in fact, a light breeze could blow it away.

The film deploys its disparate elements smartly, and director Hirotsugu Kawasaki can stage an action sequence with the best of them.

Martial arts spectacles don't come more spectacular than this, and Yuen bestows a quality of grace on the entire production.

An intriguingly mysterious, self-reflexive ode to the dream factory, it's one of Lynch's most satisfying films.

This potent drama might be dismissed as therapy in the guise of filmmaking if it weren't so clear-eyed. At its core are three remarkable performances.

One hundred and nine minutes of drama and not a single moment rings true.

While it stands as a distinct film in its own right, this film is still very much of a piece with "Shoah," and the subject is presented in the same haunting manner.

The film could easily be reduced to a parable of post-Communist Eastern Europe, but the allegory digs deeper into the very order of things, exemplified by 17th-century musicologist Andreas Werckmeister's arbitrary imposition of a "tempered" tonal system over naturally occurring tunings.

A laser-sharp evocation of the tortured ties that bind sisters, who can love and loathe each other simultaneously and inflict lifelong wounds with chilling expertise.