Dude, I am bummed. 

Dude, I am bummed. 

Kim Ki-duk's happily unhinged drama comfortably occupies the middle ground between his baroque thriller The Isle and his meditative Spring, Summer.... 

May I humbly suggest you go to a concert or have sex instead? Heck, do both. 

We're spared the sounds [of Treadwell's death], but haunted by our own mental image, one more example of the individual's capacity to create his own reality. 

Call Four Brothers a guilty pleasure....Singleton may go for easy laughs, but he gets them; the gut-level jolts may be ridiculous, but he delivers them (with style). 

Bottom line: with Murray on fire and enough clever dialogue to rival its predecessor, Ghostbusters II is good enough to put post-milennial comedy to shame. 

Has little more ambition than to make Murray the funny valentine of one of Jarmusch's mood pieces....indeed, some of the best moments are wordless. 

The balancing act of character contradictions ultimately becomes more about itself than true human behavior. 

Glazed-over looks, naked flesh, inane philosophizing, and sand dunes announce that we're in Antonioni-land, circa Zabriskie Point. 

Passing eccentricities of character, but serious trouble staging honest and coherent emotional scenes....a surplus of preciousness and a deficit of truth-ringing reality. 

Weerasethakul's confident composition of sight and sound induces a trance-like state with an elegant suggestion: that all-consuming love is for old souls. 

Dissatisfying to an adult audience accustomed to more sophisticated parody....will resonate with young viewers on their way to high school. 

Lucas insists, "I just don't think war should become some kind of video game." Too late. 

Cutesy stuff, breezily amusing but...a basically weightless and disposable date movie. 

Partly an internalized memory play and partly a strident drama in the vein of Strindberg or Ibsen, Ingmar Bergman's latest swan song to cinema bears the mark of a master. 

A sincere effort to sound an echo into Kurt Cobain's cave....Van Sant turns photographic art into screen poetry. 

Telegraphs its unsatisfying payoff for miles, has no fun getting there, but at least boasts a running time of 73 minutes, padded by a hilariously slow credit crawl. 

Weaves the politics of borders into the comedy of human frailty...seasoned with the everyday absurdities of artificial social boundaries. 

Seen with forgiving eyes, Wedding Crashers is trashy, raunchy fun. 

Secrets and lies laid bare by a strong cast make Roos' happy endings cathartic and reassuring. 

The medium is also the message: the film itself has mana, offering "a gateway into a whole realm of knowledge," material and spiritual. 

So much...is bungled with inept storytelling and watered-down dialogue, and Story is so powerless to right the course, that Fantastic Four winds up more dopey than fun. 
A story that hasn't gone out of style....Perhaps Berri spoke for himself through the old man's self-summation: 'I don't have a church bell for a heart, but I respect life.' 

Undead is sort of imaginative and considerably scattershot....succeeded only in making me groggy. 

Never less than intriguing, and often adrenalized....[depicts] men who live harder than most "able-bodied" individuals. 

Though Dark Water doesn't run deep....Salles keeps his head above [it]...with superior acting, mise en scene, story, script, and photography. 

Has all the mechanized ingenuity of one of those dazzling Tripods, but the bigger they are....it's the gutless ending that renders War of the Worlds most insulting. 

A wasted opportunity to tell in filmic terms two important histories: the crimes of apartheid and the love with which they were answered. 

Coming soon to a theatre near you: "Water Wings," with Adam Sandler coaching a swim team, and "With a Paddle," starring Eddie Murphy as a ping-pong coach. 

Romero delivers the satire and the gory action...[but this] isn't the masterpiece the posters claim. Still, lackluster Romero is better than no Romero at all... 

Dance as an expression of the African collective unconsciousness, an expression of the anger born of oppression, and an expression of faith to overcome hardship. 

As needless remakes go, Dawn of the Dead ain't half bad. George Romero's 1979 original was a B-movie masterpiece blending brutal terror and sick humor. If Zack Snyder's "re-envisioning" "improves" on... 

This G-rated charmer will make a guiltless and educational outing for parents of grade-schoolers...even if it does tenaciously anthropomorphize the cute, wee wobblers. 

Overlong and a bit overcooked...but it's also properly grueling. 

Herbie: Fully Loaded, with its emotional-roller-coaster story beats, will work like gangbusters with kids. 

Cranial scars; a robot in a yellow jumpsuit; gypsy thugs; catfights; Ted Raimi doing hip-hop; a mauve, tasseled Vespa; and a salad bar....C'mon: you know you want it. 

How bearable you'll find [the film] has everything to do with your tolerance for stylized indie poetry, played mostly in a quirky, anesthetized deadpan. 

Press and Blunt['s] characterizations are expressively detailed and never rely on declamatory dialogue or excessive behavior. 

The ne plus ultra of comic-book films...an appropriately tough movie, busy but efficient, rich and thoughtful, and ornamented with visual appeal and exciting action. 

Ozon presents no easy answers, but his often incisive "show, don't tell" character study makes touching emotional observations of marital folly. 