The film is, in fact, an adaptation of Anton Chekov's "The Seagull." This provenance also explains why there's something slightly old-fashioned about the whole business.

The truly creepy thing is that there's no bizarre, COMA-like conspiracy behind the malfeasance, just an awful betrayal of trust -- the kind of thing that sends an icy, paranoid chill through the blood just as the anesthetic takes hold.

The individual stories are so truncated that they can't do much in the way of giving their characters real emotional depth.

The pacing is suspenseful and acting is actually pretty good, even if accents are no one's strong suit.

Yash Chopra's thinly veiled plea for reconciliation between India and Pakistan is cloaked in a decades-spanning Romeo-and-Juliet romance.

The film's characters, computer-animated over motion-caputure footage of flesh-and-blood performers, are as blank-eyed and rubbery-looking as moving mannequins -- the stuff of nightmares, not dreams.

The thin line between self-esteem and hubris is explored in this cautionary tale.

Rises above its low-budget limitations by pandering to the most outrageously paranoid fantasies of unhappy office drones.

Can't match the original's shock factor --abortion isn't the taboo subject it once was and the women of Sex and the City have helped make playing the field good, dirty fun.

Bearded, burly and even balding, these "bears" are a refreshing change from the depilated, youth-obsessed men of "Queer as Folk."

Poky, oddly uninvolving.

Funny, sexy and very cleverly done.

While billed as "an intimate look" at Jay-Z, the film reveals next to nothing about him beyond the fact that he possesses a formidable ability to spin and remember lengthy rhymes, however vulgar and reductive their content.

Moritsugu's film is really just a loose collection of encounters between characters that at times barely hangs together.

The result is truly a family film, not a kiddie time-waster that throws the occasional sop to adults; whether you like or love it is a function of how vividly the material reflects your own childhood fantasies.

Ali G Indahouse simply revels in mainstream inanity, doing its incremental bit to dumb down the popular movie going experience and encourage rampant stupidity. There's nothing funny about that.

Robles and Hidalgo ring enough changes on a stock situation that you're never sure where it's going.

As complex as the issue it tackles.

Foxx is the one standout in an otherwise overcrowded film.

Wan's debut feature is a twisted, squirm-inducingly nasty bit of work, which isn't a criticism because that's exactly what he and cowriter Leigh Whannell had in mind.

Terrific acting and fearless direction transform what might have been a silly exercise in the slightly spooky into a somber and deeply romantic mystery.

A cerebral thriller that dares to ask a fundamental question: What, exactly, is love?

An acid-dipped valentine to the sometimes seedy magic of movies.

A stew of silliness that's so ridiculous it's almost entertaining. Almost.

The very definition of sentimental overload. It's also impossible to resist.

Mena's characters rarely do the sort of spectacularly stupid things that provoke derisive laughter from seasoned horror-moviegoers.

The story the film has to tell is an outrage, but it never devolves into a sputtering tirade.

This is easily Payne's funniest film to date, yet the comedy never undercuts the difficult emotions with which the characters are dealing.