All of this of course would be forgivable if it all added up to a scary movie or made even a lick of sense, but Balaguero manages to disappoint on all possible fronts.

Kassell's visual influences are evident -- she's clearly a fan of the down-and-dirty films of the '70s -- but the consistently fine performances smooth over the rough patches.

An enjoyable hour-and-a-half for adults that creates a wholly unique world of colorful sets, costumes, and characters.

Danner, whose Dina actually resembles a human being, would be its saving grace if her gracefully controlled performance weren't lost in a sea of braying caricatures.

But beneath the bombast it's pure paste and tinsel and, robbed of the thrill of live performance, the show's deficiencies are glaringly apparent.

It's a great part for a great actor and Cheadle does a magnificent job turning this living legend back into flawed, flesh-and-blood reality.

The result is an astonishingly complex, striking original portrait of an artist whose deeply personal art, intended for no one but God and himself, demands to be treated on its own terms.

Even more astonishing that the superb acting is the simple fact that director Gianni Amelio has managed to craft a touching tale of a father reunited with his disabled son without the slightest whiff of sentimentality.

Brisk, glossy and gloriously art-directed, Scorsese's lavish biopic is a pop trifle, engaging but not compelling.

Carrey's relentless showboating is almost its undoing.

Surprisingly heartfelt tale.

The first-act crash is admittedly spectacular and the ending adequately suspenseful, but what comes between is disappointingly routine and completely lacks the kind character complexity that made the original a thrill every step of the way.

In the end, Spacey's devotion to Darin may have blinded him to the bigger picture.

The result isn't an easy film, but it is rewarding.

The first-rate cast is lost at sea.

fans of this venerable Eurotrash form will welcome any evidence that it's still alive and writhing lasciviously.

Is there anything remotely new left to be said about the world's oldest profession?

Eastwood's slow-building story of loss and deliverance is a fine, understated piece of storytelling that earns every emotional body blow it lands.

Hate the holidays? You're in luck: Here's a bottomed-out Santa story.

This lackluster sequel was surely much more fun to make than it is to watch.

It's so cool all the life has drained away, leaving nothing behind but a faint whiff of attitude.

Whether this measured exercise in romantic melancholy moves you to tears or bores you to them is probably a matter of personal susceptibility to the sting of bitter regret for love lost.

This intermittently interesting symbolic tour through European history once again places ideas over aesthetics and technique.

cinematographer Mo-gai Li's keen sense of color balance and composition make this freaky fairy tale the most beautiful - if not the scariest - horror movie in ages.

There's nothing beneath the flashy editing and self-consciously cool production design but a soulless adrenaline machine that's never scary and rarely engrossing.

In a rare and inspiring example of the way art can both reflect and alleviate human suffering, photojournalist Zana Briski's wrenching documentary traces her valiant use of photography to help children trapped in one of the most wretched places on earth.

Overall, Owen and Law are more nuanced than Roberts and Portman, but Portman's dewy youth is 90 percent of Alice (the remaining 10 is an eleventh-hour twist), and Nichols uses the unkindly costumed Roberts so skillfully that her performance looks like a revelation.

This film pivots on a romantic triangle as overwrought as it is stylized. It's like a Douglas Sirk melodrama ratcheted up with fists of fury and wrapped in apparently endless yards of shimmering silk.