A “human nature film,” a crime drama that observes cops and robbers in their natural habitat and studies their instinctual behaviors. 

A “human nature film,” a crime drama that observes cops and robbers in their natural habitat and studies their instinctual behaviors. 

Like its defector hero, Mao’s Last Dancer is neither here nor there...determinedly dull, even in the flatly filmed ballet sequences. 

One is always in good hands with Thompson, even in this kiddie franchise...for the kids, there’s not only the sobering reminder that they're works in progress but also lots of...fairy-tale magic, with a touch of Babe’s farm charm. 

Julia Roberts and voluptuous production value contribute mightily to this ultimate of wish-fulfillment tales. 

A welcome late-career showcase for Robert Duvall...fits snugly into the traditions of Southern literature, particularly the tensions between gentility and eccentricity, the community and the individual, and man and God. 

Gallo's self-consciously overstated direction feeds the impression that he's trying to remake Goodfellas...can we all agree by now that the use of 'Sympathy for the Devil' in crime pictures ought to be outlawed? 

A fairly typical Hollywood bromantic comedy in that one suspects that the improvisatory chops of its likeable star duo made them real-time script doctors. 

Nicholas Sparks-meets-Bruce Joel Rubin...The movie’s God talk (most of it coming from…Ray Liotta?) and blatant expression of theme through platitudes make this romantic melodrama as drippy as the St. Cloud boys’ eyes. 

Momentarily exciting but utter nonsense, a Burmese Tiger Pit built over a gaping plot hole. 

The simplest way to sum up the greatness of Inception is to identify it as a new classic of science-fiction cinema (and, for that matter, the heist genre). 

Perhaps its best that Predators keeps its ambitions humble, but a dearth of inspiration makes this fifth Predator film dangerously close to a rehash of the first. 

Weds a Charles Addams drollness to Looney Tunes one-upmanship. 

Lacking the psychological intimacy afforded by the page, Daniel Alfredson’s film won’t inspire better than a shrug from audiences. 

Increasingly picturesque photography, amped-up action, borrowed poetry, and age-old romance have The Twilight Saga on its surest footing yet—that is, until the youngsters grow up and realize True Blood tells the same story so much 

Ultimately, Kounen takes two hours to say not very much; one imagines him constantly barking, “More smoldering!” [but there's] a captivating, fully realized recreation of the premiere ...[of] The Rite of Spring... 

Emphasizes the dog-eat-dog nature of show biz...[but fails] to illuminate, or apparently even investigate, the early source of its subject’s hungry void. 

Wry and melancholic, Solitary Man recalls Wonder Boys as a character-study showcase worthy of Douglas’ ability. 

Frantic without bringing the fun. 

Playing God and playing house converge...about as gonzo as the multiplex gets. 

Reaches its apex with a manic party scene that unleashes the full intimidation of P. Diddy and guarantees the phrase “stroke the furry wall” a place in the comedy lexicon... 

The creator of Amélie returns to the black comedy of Delicatessen with Micmacs, a goofy satire on the wages of the war machine. 

I’m still not sure if writer-director Michael Patrick King intended for his audience to laugh at or with his fab foursome as they refresh the stereotype of the “ugly American” abroad... 

Though the attempt is moody and earnest, I can't say that it's smart or memorable. 

What saves Shrek Forever After from utter mediocrity isn’t its high-priced superstar voice talent but veteran animator Dohrn, who steals the show by making Rumplestilskin the best oily runt since Danny DeVito last dispatched a taxi. 

A muddled compromise that likely won’t please history buffs, Robin Hood aficionados, or casual summer-movie viewers. 

Showmanship is the order of the day for superhero sequel Iron Man 2, though the flash and dazzle distract from plot machinery that’s more than a little clunky. 

Ol’ Cusinart Hand is back in A Nightmare on Elm Street, a pointless, unimaginative “re-imagining” of Wes Craven’s cleverly conceived slasher movie. 

The Secret in Their Eyes doesn’t hedge any bets, offering healthy servings of romance, mystery, prosecutorial tension, social critique...and comic relief. 

Perfectly positioned to take advantage of the health care debate. Unfortunately, the satire doesn’t get any more complex than 'What if the mortgage crisis were over livers instead of houses?' 

Greenberg doesn’t amount to much, really, but it’s an enjoyably amusing character study with plenty of little pleasures. 

The 3D is justified, mostly by flying sequences that are certain to fuel the dreams of many a child. 

The film for anyone who ever doubted that one man can make a difference. 

Only slightly edgier and no more sensible than a Nicholas Sparks story. 

Conspicuously pointless...an underachieving comedy of awkwardness. 

Winds up feeling strangely perfunctory. This is subject matter that should fascinate, rather than deliver an occasional droll observation. 

If only Morel and Besson would have committed to satirizing, instead of merely exploiting, this superficially cool, destructively cold archetype of American firepower, they could’ve had more than multiplex filler. 

Predictable and, in the end, embarrassingly sappy...[but] does touch on some interesting points about the ethics of drug trials and approvals, the entrepreneurial spirit, and the challenges of doing important work that isn’t a sure thing... 

It’s a mark of Jackson’s lack of restraint as a filmmaker that the mystery-thriller elements and fantastic visualizations overtake the domestic drama that is the novel’s true raison d’être. 

Endearingly packed to the rafters with ornate anachronistic artistry, Gilliam’s Imaginarium is a great place to window shop—and get lost for a spell. 

Call this one the thinking boy’s sex romp. 