Tim Robbins, Phillip Noyce, and Shawn and Robyn Slovo: [Robbins:] 'That Afrikaaner policeman...was made out to be the bad guy when in fact the people that set the policy wound up in mansions with very large pensions.'

Though less extreme, the Up series suggests a real-life Truman Show, with subjects sometimes reluctantly allowing their lives to be recorded on film.

Cook's usual persona is annoying, but with his volume turned down here, he's even more of a zero.

More than a stunt...a sincere film that explores cynical sexual discord and hopefully concludes that forgiveness and sexual healing can repair the disrupted currents of modern urban life.

Ours is not to question why; ours is but to watch 'em die.

Forest Whitaker: 'I'm always talking about it in such a technical way, but I have to be honest: it's really much more of a spiritual experience for me...working as an actor.'

Kept in balance, The Departed's verbal and visual gifts, gun-toting menace, down-and-dirty existentialism, and bristling suspense should please both sides of the movie aisle.

Scorsese keeps a good handle on the turbulent material of Hughes's sprawling life... spectacular... fleet... admirably eccentric.

Emblematizes De Palma's refusal to take Hollywood seriously.

While women may certainly apply, it's primarily the guys who will find District B13 irresistible.

Flimsy, fake-looking weaponry, bad wigs, grandiose scoring, overacting, simplistic dialogue, illogically elaborate staging, and a plot that goes out of its way to be predictable...

Resembles Crumb in its depiction of damaged souls whose only refuge is art.

Serves two useful purposes: to collect some of the Beatle's wittiest social barbs, and to inform a young audience...

The sum of Gondry's parts may be a hole, but the parts can be pretty darn clever and captivating.

Pure Hollywood hokum, the sort of picture the Duke might star in today. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Aside from lazy screenwriting.

Succeed[s] in recreating the simple pleasures of the old Ealing comedies, which let talented character actors shine.

You know what they say, folks: it's a free country. If Jesus Camp scares you, better start brainwashing some little heathens of your own.

It's too bad that Phillips fumbles for comic gimmickry when he has the makings of a rich and timely satire on poison-peddling motivational personalities.

In what may be the single most damaging performance in any film this year, Affleck puts on extra pounds, a fake honker, and a horrifyingly bad debonair act.

Flyboys' spectacular predictability confirms its shallowness.

Knoxville at one point sports a T-shirt with a slogan that says it all: "F*** Art: Let's Dance."

Zaillian sells short the faceoff of shrewd old guard and scrappy proletariat by looking away just when the twain meet.

John Cameron Mitchell: 'Why not just use all the connections that sex has? You know, sex is certainly the spinal cord that connects to all these different organs in our life...'

Alex Pettyfer: 'He's a normal guy, you know? An average Joe who has capabilities that are just far out like a little mini--not mini-Bond, but a mini-Jason Bourne, shall we say.'

Weak-tea...with tepid gags, lazy plotting, and scenarios that are mostly too unpleasant to be funny.

As the character drama bogs down in Hartnett and Johansson's maudlin mumbling, De Palma starts to focus on shoehorning in a punchy setpiece or stylistic outrage.

Never explains its stupid idea of a talking baseball and a talking bat...The filmmakers presume too much in assuming we'll accept the "magic" "realism"...

Johnson gives the part his authoritative all, but he doesn't have the depth of ability to elevate a sappy script that regularly calls for up-choking.

Jet Li: 'If you play a cop, or the tough guy, Mafia, whatever, you need to think first. You need to understand the character, the personality. Then you put a different move for the character.'

Where do WB pilots go when they die? Perhaps they're reincarnated as lousy supernatural thrillers.

The downtime since Ong-Bak has left us hungry enough not to care that the plot and frequent action feel a bit recycled.

A movie for hooligans, and do we really want to encourage them?

Clearly presents the charges against the MPAA, the "voluntary" group that has systematized Hollywood censorship.

Plain-good storytelling: rigorous acting, handheld urgency, and editing prowess render the whiff of manipulation moot.

There's a casual informality to Pollack's documentary technique....results are semi-revealing.

In the film's best scene, Roth interrogates Lange about potatoes. Unfortunately such moments are rare.

Despite what you may have heard, World Trade Center isn't entirely apolitical, just understated in its commentary.

A terrifying triumph of hype, but...also the movie to preserve for all of Earth's recorded history Samuel L. Jackson lowering his gaze at Julianna Margulies and asking, "Sporks?" I dare you to look away.

Hard liquor goes in at the mouth, but when we're lucky, it comes out in the writer's grip.

When Angel brushes off Trumpy with the line 'Can the artist get a little space around here?', you may agree that the question deserves a qualified 'yes' answer.

Loses possession early on and has trouble holding onto the ball.

Knows it's a dumb movie and plugs ahead cheerily and without pretention...but the jokes quickly run thin.

A buffoonish but bitter social satire that runs to classical depths, Seduced and Abandoned takes no prisoners for society's misogynistic crimes in the name of familial honor.

Motion-picture dysfunctionalism trumps development every time. I would be insane to think that any original screenplay that I'm commissioned to write would ever end up as a movie.

By the end, I felt empty and unconvinced that I'd spent 103 minutes with genuine personalities.