The band's implosion and reassembly makes for one of the most marvelous rock documentaries of all time.

Araki is trying to work from the inside out; and he captures feelings about sexual exploitation that I've never seen onscreen--not all of them negative.

Hanks and Zemeckis (and writer William Broyles Jr.) are so intent on making an epic of the spirit that they can't bring themselves to acknowledge the comic, narcissistic side of their desert island fantasy. And so on simple, human terms, the picture gets all gummed up.

This is finally the zombie flick as cautionary political tale, and as humanist parable. It's not the flesh-gouging zombie we have to worry about, the filmmakers suggest, but the soul-gouging zombie within.

This isn't just the most riotously inventive movie of the year, it's the raunch anthem of the age.

The film is marvelous fun on its own terms -- I laughed all the way through it.

The sequel is simply a tour-de-force of thriller filmmaking.

A gratifyingly slick and fast-moving Flemish thriller, directed by Erik Van Looy, with superb acting.

Has a soft windup, but along the way are some of the best-constructed slapstick sequences since "There's Something About Mary."

Super-entertaining, super-disgusting documentary.

Good, sometimes thrilling, but it's less a war epic than an evocative romantic melodrama with a patchy first hour.

Quite pleasant.

It proves that male action stars can triumph not only over space but, more important, over time.

Roberts has her most galvanic role, and she's sensationally appealing.

This is an absolutely miraculous movie.

This is a star-making performance, as fresh and funny as Christopher Reeve's in Superman (1978).

Too long, too sexist, and too--shall we say--flaccid. But it has its moments.

One of the more lyrical sci-fi action thrillers ever made, in which space and time become love slaves to the directors' witty visual fancies.

It's the human struggle that makes this a sci-fi masterpiece.

Law gives a doozy of a performance: He's fond of bulging his eyes, curling his head like a gargoyle, and displaying a set of rotten yellow teeth. This is some of the most flamboyantly bad acting since Brad Pitt in "Twelve Monkeys" (1995). An Oscar nomination would appear inevitable.

This is a dazzling movie, yet some people (not kids, but maybe their parents) will be put off by its Grand Guignol ghoulishness.

Pure misery.

Something appalling about the way he turns to the camera with a look of sorrow: Michael Moore as a suffering Christ. It's an insult to his own movie, which at its considerable best transcends his thuggish personality.

The best thing about Seabiscuit is that it will make a lot of people hungry to read the book. They've seen the pretty pictures; now they'll want to enter the world.

This is very much a first feature, with all the hyperbolic, sometimes indiscriminate cinematic energy of a student film. But it's also sensational, a febrile meditation on the mathematics of existence.

Fascinating for the issues--ethical, aesthetic, psychoanalytic--it raises. But it doesn't fully come together.

Guillermo del Toro is in a class with Peter Jackson as a fan-boy who gets it--a brilliant filmmaker who has a kind of metabolic connection to horror and sci-fi that helps him transform secondhand genre material into something deep and nourishing. Del Toro reaches into himself and finds the Wagnerian grandeur in schlock.

Igby Goes Down got a reaction from me: I think it's the movie of the year. I squirmed, I laughed a lot.