It's hard to breathe in Andrew Lau and Alan Mak's Infernal Affairs, a relentlessly taut Hong Kong cop thriller that, unlike many of its cinematic peers, doesn't burn off tension in choreographed action sequences.

A compelling piece of press criticism as it probes the media as terror's conduit of choice, spreading message and validating violence in the 1970s and today.

Grace and Quaid imbue what could have been caricatures--with heart, intelligence and great comic timing.

All three men turn in superb and understated performances.

With husband and wife starring, you can't help but wonder which details here are autobiographical. No matter: This is obviously a deeply personal work for Attal, whose comic timing and passion can only serve him well both on screen and off.

Don't let the fast-and-loose vibe fool you: Right up to its operatic finale, this is one tight one last job.

Hilarious, inspired, frenzied.

It's a familiar dance, but something only July could invent, a vignette much like her characters: beautiful, flawed, organic--fine alone but better with the others.

Yes, Steve Carell can carry a movie. Yes, Judd Apatow can direct a movie. Yes, we'll all relate to a middle-aged virgin. And yes, when an aesthetician yells to her assistant "we're gonna need more wax," you best run.

An uplifting, funny and engaging star-studded affair.

With humor, honesty and awe, Feuerzeig's portrait may love Daniel Johnston, but it won't give his parents much hope.

Acutely perceptive and slyly quick-witted.

Overall the film is alluringly over-the-top without being overcooked.

It's a stunningly creepy specimen of Asian horror.

So what started as a female "Agent Cody Banks" happily and seamlessly becomes so much more, with style and substance existing in unusual harmony for a spy spoof.

The gall of Peter and Bobby Farrelly. To think that a romantic comedy might work absent a sleazy wager or maddening miscommunication takes a lot of chutzpah.

Politics hovers over every moment of Another Road Home, Elon's layered, loving and deeply personal documentary about her quest to find the Palestinian caregiver who raised her.

More often then not, the relationships and performances are strong and moving, with an effect both breezy-fun and profound.

Mostly it's an incredible tale of ritual and perseverance.

Brewer achieves near perfection in this tense, intimate meeting between two lifelong hustlers.

But though you'll laugh your head off, the whole film kind of morphs into a blur, with one poop/sex/abuse joke after another. It's exhausting, really. And save for the very best tellings, you do start to wonder: What's so funny?

The movie here is Treadwell's footage--some of it beautiful, much of it difficult to watch.

If this all sounds very heavy, well, it is, but it's also very, very funny. Cronenberg may want to say something important about violence, but he's also head over heels for it, ending each gunfight and neck-breaking with a close-up on the victim, blood either pooling behind his head or brains spilling from his face. Big laughs.

Pairing monumental insensitivity with a bright-eyed delivery, Silverman is the current valedictorian of the nothing-is-sacred school of comedy, a modern-day Lenny Bruce spared her forefather's legal woes by time, breasts and porcelain skin.

Works remarkably well as a stylish and unconventional buddy flick--cruising along with wit and wisdom.

Match Point is fantastic to look at, sharply dramatic and Allen is--who knew?--a master of suspense.

Easygoing but surprisingly likable comedy.

Equally fascinating and frustrating.