Trueba's movie is nearly undone by its shapelessness. Because the filmmaker imposes little in the way of form (or drama) on his subject, his film is a good listen without being a particularly good watch.

Like Johnny's rants, Naked is a revelation, a parable of spiritual homelessness and the terror it engenders.

For its mesmerizing first two-thirds, Van Sant keeps the film tightly focused on his subject, superbly played by Penn and intimately shot, home-movie style, by Harris Savides. But when the director pulls back to detail Harvey Milk's fight against gay backlash, Milk gets derailed. And - dare I say it? - didactic.

Like this diabolically designed weapon of war, Tanovic's film is coil-sprung to explode on the unsuspecting.

So incrementally does Eastwood's film build toward what seems like an inevitable resolution that when it concludes, you're sucker-punched. You haven't been watching a police procedural, but a Greek tragedy. You haven't been watching a drama about the catharsis of vigilantism, but sitting vigil for a community diminished, and permanently damaged, by violence.

Insightful and involving.

What this unclassifiable story may lack in decibels, it has in emotional depth. At once a mystery, a family drama, a snapshot of children at risk, Ballast is an unusually perceptive character study more eloquent in action than in dialogue.

Funny as it is fierce, breathtaking as it is life-affirming.

Few American directors drive this wedge between mind and gut as masterfully as Michael Mann.

An eco-mentary that's as passionate and persuasive an argument for change as "An Inconvenient Truth."

It's a testament to Cage's canny performance and Jonze's seamless use of special effects that you believe Charlie and Donald are two entirely different people.

A scabrously funny look at the cutthroat game of statecraft.

The result is more exciting than the last four ST pictures put together, more fun than a barrel of Tribbles, and the most satisfying action-adventure since last year's "Iron Man."

Nim is as unforgettable as the treatment of him is unspeakable.

I also like that when Our Hero starts swinging from skyscrapers, he's not just emulating Tarzan, but is working out the Newtonian physics of action and reaction.

The fluid film cinematography of Christopher Doyle and Rain Kathy Li, intercut with grainy Super-8 shots of park regulars, tracks the skaters in their free-flying, free-styling and free-falling grace. In these privileged moments, the film is close to transcendence, defying time, space and gravity.

Spider is a difficult film, but an inspired one, the movie equivalent of eating a meal of artfully prepared eel or sea urchin. It's for those with adventurous tastes and no fear of squishy textures.

Ryan may not be admirable, but Clooney makes him relatable. It's his deepest and nakedest performance.

It does a masterful job of capturing a specific time and place while reminding us how timeless the abortion dialogue is.

A film of haunting eloquence and justifiable fury.

With Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Tim Burton gives new meaning to the term "director's cut."

It's a coming-of-age story - blunt, mythic, gut-wrenching.

Whatever number it is chronologically on the P&P parade, Wright's film ranks first in verve. Quite simply, it is the essential P&P.

The results are exhilarating, thrilling, and extend the wingspan.

Insightful, funny-sad memoir of divorce, intellectual style and emotional rebirth.

Burshtein keeps the camera tight on the faces of her actors in a way that succeeds at making visible the invisible heat between the characters. The film's chaste eroticism and the community's deep respect for Shira's emotional and spiritual growth keep the audience in thrall.

Throw bouquets at Marshall, who instead of dissecting it to death, neatly resurrects the Hollywood musical.

After Clooney, who gives a sterling performance as a tarnished figure, the standout performance belongs to Wilkinson, a geyser of manic eloquence. Also quite fine are Swinton and Sydney Pollack.