Good-natured but overstuffed sequel.

Oddly, once removed from the museum setting and strung together into an hourlong feature, it's Maddin's most cohesive narrative.

Lighter than helium but irresistible nonetheless.

It's essentially an urban variation on "The Hitcher" (1986) with nothing much going on underneath.

Even the inclusion of Simon's classic songs isn't enough to solve all the problems of this comedic misfire.

It's easy to see why this violent, thrilling tale broke all box-office records in Thailand: Not only does it stir a sense of deep national pride, but Thanit delivers the goods when it comes to action.

Ultimately the sci-fi fillips — human cloning, memory wipes, empathy viruses — are subordinate to screenwriter Frank Cottrell Boyce's doomed romance.

Ratanaruang's simple willingness to tie different strands of melancholy melodramas and violent yakuza thrillers together with flashes of surreal mystery immediately sets him apart from the herd.

The film's dispassionate examination of the shifts in Susan and Daniel's relationship as they drift from irritation to barely suppressed panic is at least as nerve wracking.

Although notorious in South Africa, Stander is little known elsewhere and Canadian director Bronwen Hughes' unsatisfying account of his life and crimes is unlikely to earn him a spot on the outlaw celebrity A-list.

Achieves what Hollywood never quite gets right: a tense and timely thriller that also serves as a political and a moral allegory.

In a story driven by questions of loyalty and allegiance, no candidate is identified by party. It's a bipartisan nightmare from which no one escapes unscathed.

The production design is phenomenal, reproducing the series' swinging '60s decor and techno-geek flourishes, from the launch pad under the swimming pool to Lady Penelope's pink roadster, which turns into a mini-plane.

The film's gotcha! payoff doesn't justify the gloomy journey.

The result is a vivid record of live acts whose rough-edged immediacy is an integral part of their appeal.

The homoerotic twists and gender-shifting turns are fun, but they can't hide the fact that the film is little more than a tedious shaggy-dog story with oblique mythological references.

The outlandish premise and greasy title may be a little hard to swallow, but Danny Leiner's proudly moronic film embraces its boneheadedness so cheerfully that its lowbrow charms are nearly irresistible.

All that menace is simply decorative, and it's disappointing that Laconte never properly addresses the intriguing sexual undertones (like voyeurism, exhibitionism and sexual obsession) he uses to darken the film's palette.

This unusually rich film tackles not only the social structuring of criminality and sexuality but race as well, and explores the ways science has been used to justify the ruthless pursuit of market interests and, eventually, apartheid itself.

The film is at odds with itself, trying to present transgendered characters as resourceful and tough as nails while the plot habitually reduces them to traumatized masochists and helpless victims.

Although Zach Braff's promising writing-directing debut is a bit affected, few actors with behind-the-camera aspirations succeed as well as the Scrubs star does with this melancholy romantic comedy.

Thom Andersen's idiosyncratic, three-hour masterpiece is both a dazzling work of film criticism and a fascinating piece of urban anthropology.

If it weren't all so cluelessly sleazy it might be funny.

One youngster -- even a youngster as talented as Rossum -- can't transform a mess of clichés into a little gem.

A bravura tap-dancing finale as exhilarating as it is bizarre.

A refreshing alternative to the hypertrophied spy thrillers in which exaggerated action sequences, over-the-top super-villainy and high-tech gadgetry trump character and plot.

Overall, though, the film drags at 91 minutes, filled with dead air that should be crackling with pulp energy.

A perfect example of how a top-flight cast can compensate for unimaginative filmmaking.