An uneasy mix of frat-boy yocks and "Twilight Zone"-style science-fiction.

A deep waste is more like it.

"Queer as Folk's" Peter Paige makes a strong debut as a writer/director with this original black comedy.

Though the film contains many haunting images, the absence of a solid emotional foundation makes its increasingly preposterous story developments feel arbitrary and ultimately pointless.

Casually paced and filled with telling detail, Yamada's delicate drama with swordplay (there's not much, but what there is packs an emotional wallop) transcends its specific setting in its depiction of Katagiri's internal struggle.

Questions the efficacy and, above all, the humanity of what even steadfast Bush supporters like Tony Blair have condemned.

The result is a mixed bag of lozenges, some sweet, some tart and others that just melt away into nothing.

Despite the frequent and elaborate sex scenes, the film's overall tone is both melancholic and alienating, suffused with the sad certainty of Claudine's impending death in Venice.

The accolades are typically gushing - Bono likens Cohen to Byron and Shelley.

To call the film noisy and brainless isn't even a criticism - it's unadulterated auto-porn, as shallow and shiny as it wants to be.

A crass, tedious sequel.

Screenwriter David Auburn's awkward dialogue spells out the film's themes with painful literal-mindedness.

It's a one-gag film that rises or falls on how funny you find the sight of fat, grease-slicked Jack Black crammed into spandex pants and capering like an epileptic lamb.

First-time writer-director Robert Edwards is nothing if not ambitious, attempting to encapsulate the history of totalitarian oppression and misguided revolutionary zeal into a broad, blunt, black comedy.

It all adds up to an unfortunate misfire: a film at odds with both its source material and itself.

The story wears thin long before it's over, but Machado draws strong performances from his leads and makes excellent use of its rundown locations.

It's none too deep and a tad cartoonish, but also fast-paced, filled with quotable one-liners and often very funny.

There's nothing subtle about Pelegri and Harari's culture-clash romp, but it's sometimes frantically funny; that it's thoroughly forgettable is an issue only if you expect it to do more than poke easy fun at the thorny issues it raises.

It's also very cleverly edited - one scene will often branching off from another in much the same way a crossword puzzle works - and features a bang-up ending that will actually leave you cheering over a word game.

Welsh-born actor Roger Rees bares body and soul in director/cowriter Eric Werthman's handsomely photographed examination of the dynamic that unites a masochist and the sex worker who caters to his desires.

It's the one movie so far this summer that demands to be seen on the big screen.

Overall, the film falls into some comforting cocoon midway between affectionate spoof and adoring homage, much like Keillor's warmly nostalgic show.

The results isn't especially engaging, despite a quietly charismatic performance by Weiss, a relative newcomer who holds his own against far more experienced actors.

The film looks great, but there's nothing under the high-gloss veneer.

You'll feel lucky for such a comprehensive introduction to Turkish music.

Serrill wisely divides his film into chapters according to year, which helps structure the story's natural repetitiveness.

A window into bygone morals and mores.

Animal lovers and museum-goers alike are sure to enjoy this curiously delightful hour-long documentary.