An exuberant and supremely unselfconscious first film about five Melbourne college students and the various crises that befall them during one momentous day. The movie is in the best sense of the word artless (there's not an hommage insight), and its occasional missteps -- like a ham-fisted parody of partisan film students -- do little to undermine its charms.

Infantile, pointless tedium aimed at kids, to whom the fact that it features the entire cast of TV's Power Rangers ZEO will presumably mean something.

An earnest, thoughtful, surprisingly well-written (given the number of writers who worked on it) drama about guilt and betrayal that features excellent performances by Harrison Ford and Brad Pitt and dares to defy the juvenile wham bam thank you ma'am aesthetics that have turned mainstream action pictures into feature-length video games.

An animated parody of the disparity between Hollywood image and reality, this occasionally clever kiddie feature often rises above its straightforward plot.

But the film soars when the stunning Jennifer Lopez beams and struts her stuff in a series of exhilarating performance sequences; she's a glitzy, thrilling icon a la the made-over Olivia Newton-John of Grease.

A sickly soft-swirl confection of low laughs and smarmy sentiment.

Adapted from J.G. Ballard's cult novel, a dispassionate exegesis of warped desire, Cronenberg's movie is suitably cold, cold, cold: proof positive that movies about sex aren't always sexy movies, at least by conventional standards.

Daniel Sullivan's earnest adaptation of Jon Robin Baitz's play is worth seeing for Ron Rifkin's performance alone.

Sexy and soulful like the smoothest slow jam, writer-director Theodore Witcher's debut feature is a classy, surprisingly accomplished romantic comedy focusing on life and love among of a group of young African-American Chicagoans.

Capably directed by Betty Thomas, this freewheeling pseudodocumentary tribute to Stern's juvenile antics paints the anarchic radio idol as Everyschmo made good.

This very Disney treatment of the classic fish out of water story ought to satisfy its intended audiences: kids and the parents who must accompany them.

Although it contains funny moments, the deliberately disjointed whole is too cute for its own good.

First-time writer-director Greg Mottola has a real feel for characters, a quality that's in disturbingly short supply among young filmmakers. The Malone family could easily be a one-dimensional collection of sitcom caricatures, but by the movie's end they feel like real people. He also pulls off a tricky shift of tone, from pleasant, mild comedy to something far more bitter and haunting.

Depp's tight, guarded performance is almost painful to watch, and Newell seems to have reined in the flamboyant Pacino, whose portrait of the mobster as a grumpy old woman may be his best work in years.

Ultimately, the material is so familiar that it's hard to work up any enthusiasm for another trip though the seamy underside of glittering gaming life.

This lame bid at a thriller is hobbled by a plodding pace and a slipshod script.

It's basically a one-joke comedy that spins out of control once the joke's over, but the cast is likable, the women smart, and one can't argue with the important safe-sex message.

A feature-length Twilight Zone episode, filtered -- not entirely successfully -- though the sensibilities of David Lynch and his Wild at Heart collaborator, Barry Gifford.

But the movie is long and didactic, undermined by the faintly pious air of an educational slide show.

An old man's movie, filled with regret over things lost, corrupted and spoiled.

Chase is a veritable black-hole of mirthlessness who sucks every ounce of fun out what might otherwise be a fairly diverting comedy.

Salma Hayek steals the awkwardly formulaic, cliche-ridden show right out from under him (Perry).

Ultimately, Schrader pulls us into a mind-over-matter kind of purgatory: Fun and original as his film is, it lacks feeling and heart.

The surprise is that you won't hate it nearly as much as you expect -- thanks to a solid supporting cast, a cute cat and an even cuter Ricci -- and the manic pace will have the kids purring with delight.

A long, dark night o' slacker despair, courtesy of Richard Linklater and self-important blowhard Eric Bogosian.

These lessons are driven home via silly dialogue ("Her name was Marion and she loved volcanoes...") and painfully predictable plot complications, repeated often enough that there's no need to take notes, except for the benefit of friends who fall asleep.

Writer/director Craig Rosenberg is no master of subtlety -- in fact, he seems to have only two settings, whacking excess and treacly pathos -- and the film is awash in ponderous whimsy.

The result isn't very funny: There are clever bits, sure, but they're embedded in long, painfully obvious sequences built around one-shot gags.