Not only does Invictus tell a remarkable story of a remarkable man, but it also illustrates how sports can be a salve to a wounded community. And that's something New Orleanians can certainly appreciate.

Manages to overcome its flaws and become a charming love letter to love itself -- and a pitch-perfect V-Day date film to boot.

Even though it's right there in the title, "fantastic" might be a touch hyperbolic in describing director Wes Anderson's stop-motion adaptation of Roald Dahl's The Fantastic Mr. Fox, but only by a whisker.

The film is chilled by characters that never really come alive or generate any deep sympathy.

Cera exudes a geeky charm and tender vulnerability that's hard to resist -- probably because he's far easier to relate to for most of us than we'd like to admit.

One of the reasons it's so effective is because it's based on a real-life, odds-defying story: that of mountainous Baltimore Ravens offensive tackle Michael Oher (played by Quinton Aaron).

Precious is painful, it is harrowing, it is emotionally exhausting. It is also a singular film, one that is as difficult to compare to another as it is to forget.

The result is a deliriously watchable and darkly comic portrait of a high-velocity death spiral.

The result: a fun and sweet romantic comedy that lands comfortably on the smart side of vacant, along the way offering a pleasant and satisfying holiday diversion for the grown-ups in the room.

For all of its faults, ends up being relentlessly watchable as well, a summertime popcorn spectacle plopped down in the middle of the fall movie season.

As engrossing as The Young Victoria is, this isn't a movie that will stay with you very long. Mostly that's because Blunt's character does little by way of evolving.

It's great, gruesome fun, a well-written and fantastically cast romp.

An up-tempo and upbeat concert documentary that celebrates, rather than mourns, the last hurrah of a pop-culture touchstone.

It's all good, goofy fun.

It is classless, it is tasteless, it is idiotic, it is juvenile and it is something your mother totally wouldn't approve of. But it also is flat-out hilarious, a go-for-broke comedy that not only is the best laugher released so far this summer, but one of the best so far this year.

It's also a British comedy, with that singularly British way of being clever and deliriously juvenile all at once, a combination that makes for scathing, laugh-out-loud, big-screen satire.

As a result, the slickly produced Food, Inc. is more deeply unsettling than it is out-and-out stomach-turning.

The result is a movie that, in its best moments, is delightful. It does lose a significant amount of steam halfway through -- likely due in part to its two hours of running time.

Ends up being a pleasantly surprising blast from the past, a delightful and amusing touchstone to Allen's comedic prime.

A heartwarming -- and at times heartbreaking -- post-"Juno" road comedy for grownups.

Director David Yates picks up where he left off with "Order of the Phoenix," assembling a nicely paced and artfully shot adventure.

Tony Scott pushes all the right buttons, crafting a worthy -- and in many ways, a superior -- update.

The movie documents much more than a talent competition -- it documents a political movement.

Just as key to the movie's impact are its well-acted scenes of heart-wrenching emotion, although some stray perilously close to melodrama.

Brilliant in its simplicity, as he turns the floor over to the three masters with this simple instruction: The guitar. Discuss.

Lee keeps things afloat with an appealing air of levity, including a fun but restrained use of split-screen, an homage to the 1970 doc, as well as cameos by that movie's Port-O-San guy and its peace-sign-flashing nuns.

Only one of a number of recent immigrant tales to hit theaters, but with its blend of sweet humor and topical relevance, it's one of the more compelling -- and surprising -- in some time.

Part eco-doc, part legal-doc, it is a troubling, real story -- and a well-told one at that -- that is inspiring and infuriating all at once.

It is an inspiring, well-assembled portrait of one man's love for his autistic 6-year-old son and the measures he's willing to go to help the boy -- and the family -- cope with his neurological challenges.

It's provocative stuff, and The Yes Men approach it with a wicked sense of humor.

The casting is perfect, and the resetting of the story to China allows for a satisfyingly cinematic retelling.

Burton's most imaginative film in some time.

But lowbrow or not, it is, like, totally tubular in its own right. To the max. Fer sure.

The whole thing is such a rare visual treat -- such a tres magnifique cinematic spectacle -- that those flaws are easy to overlook. Jeunet's film is hard to resist.

Still, it's not the iconic, be-all-end-all that Scott was certainly hoping for.

A thoroughly and unmistakably modern film so rooted in the now that it's bound to be remembered as a cinematic landmark.

Before it gives itself a chance to deliver on that promise, however, it morphs into something different -- something often resembling a soap opera, just with prettier sets and less-passionate smooching.

The Art of the Steal is activist filmmaking, but it's well-done activist filmmaking. And, given that the Barnes fight isn't quite yet over, it could also become the most most important kind of filmmaking: the kind that makes a difference.

There's a certain triteness to the overarching message -- secrets will keep us apart, and the truth will set us free -- but the kind of sweetness and earnestness that's on display in City Island makes such quibbles easy to forgive.

The result is a documentary that is as interesting as it is irresistible.

It's an intriguing travelogue, showing parts of Iran that most of us could never see, or would never dare try to see, given that nasty "Death to America" thing.

The performances are strong enough to elevate things. Darin, Villamil and Francella are the kinds of actors who you just know you've seen before, but whom you probably haven't.

A dramatic comedy that is light on plot but generous in spirit, a leisurely, understated film that underscores the ever-present modern guilt while -- oddly, given the weightiness of that central conceit -- boasting a satisfying buoyancy.

If nothing else, Garcia's movie is a brave one, with its unflinching look at adoption, which -- as overwhelmingly compassionate an act as it is -- often leaves behind deep emotional scars.

Not the deepest stuff, but thought-provoking all the same -- and entertaining to boot.

Directed by someone you've never heard of and starring actors you won't be able to place, there's only one reason for a movie such as the locally shot Last Exorcism to exist: to scare the bejeezus out of you.

Never Let Me Go isn't the kind of movie you talk about on the drive home -- it's even better. It's the kind that makes you sit quietly and think, rolling it around in your head and considering the angles.

Imagine Norman Rockwell had he been more of a realist than a nostalgist.

Unfortunately, for the bulk of the film's running time -- its first two-thirds or so -- Davis and Heilbroner oversaturate viewers with scene-setting material, describing the climate for gay men and lesbians in the 1950s and 1960s.

A refreshingly original take on the comic book adaptation.

Rarely is an actress asked to do so much with so little -- and even rarer does that actress succeed as well as Clarkson does.

RED is so much fun -- and its Over the Hill Gang so likeable -- that this is one of those rare cases where I wouldn't mind seeing them come out of retirement again for another romp.

It's also the kind of movie that, for all of its smarts and huggability, stumbles every so often. Usually that happens when it's trying just a bit too hard to be cute, such as in its occasional surrealist, animation-assisted segments.

It's hard to resist the pairing of such talented actors as Robert Downey Jr. and Zack Galifianakis - and they prove why here. They are funny guys, both of whom make the most of the material.

Without the fantastic performances from Gandolfini, Stewart and Leo, it wouldn't hold together nearly as well as it does.

The updated version of the familiar tale strikes a nice balance between humor, adventure and romance, making it a movie that will appeal to the whole family.

Slowly becomes a thoughtful and interesting deconstruction and demythologizing of American celebrity.

Feels like a movie that belongs in June or July, with all the other comic book fare. But I'll gladly take it now, no matter what the calendar says.

The result is a movie that is about as riveting as -- well, as your average Robert Novak column.

Arriving with a savage grace, director Darren Aronofsky's nightmare-come-to-life Black Swan cements his reputation not only as one of the more daring filmmakers of his generation, but also as an actor's director of the first order.

A punch-drunk tale whose fitful ramble from Jerry Springer-style family seaminess to "Rocky"-like triumph is elevated enormously by knockout performances.

This is a dirty, stinky Western -- the kind where authenticity is the guiding artistic hand and where a layer of filth and grime have seemingly settled over everything but the popcorn in your lap.

The whole thing is kind of comforting in a damn-the-torpedoes, laugh-at-what-scares-you-most kind of way.

To be clear: Despite the holiday flavor, and despite the pint-sized hero, this is no kids' movie. There is swearing. There is blood. There is an army of 180 very nude Santas coursing through the snow. That's not the kind of thing Frank Capra ever could have dreamed of -- and that change of pace is exactly what makes Rare Exports a rare, if unexpected, holiday treat.

Part "The Great Escape" and part "Lawrence of Arabia, " Weir's epic The Way Back is ambitious in scope, grand in vision and rich with examples of the resilience of the human spirit.

Boasting a rock-solid academic architecture, Bhutto is a film bursting at the seams with gravitas.

Like the original, it is a moody, atmospheric film, one boasting significantly more depth than your typical blow-'em-up.

It's a film for patient moviegoers. But for those moviegoers, it stands to be a rewarding experience.

The Beaver also has a tendency to slip around as it finds its footing. But then the powerful third act comes and Foster, with Gibson's help, hits it home.

So what we have is a movie that will make at least two important groups happy. New Orleans boosters can cheer Green Lantern for its local roots and for the possibility that the inevitable future installments could return to town. And the purists can cheer, knowing that Campbell and crew have done Green Lantern justice.

Sprinkled throughout, there is also a handful of wonderfully amusing song-and-dance numbers, written by Bret McKenzie.

Being a fan of the character is not a prerequisite for enjoying the film.

The fact that there are so many good comic bits here allowed Kasdan to assemble a great comic cast.

Best of all, Disney seems to understand the limits of a preschooler's attention span.

The engine that really makes Crazy Stupid Love go is the same one that has made Ficarra and Requa's films to this point so appealing: While they thrust their characters into outrageous situations, they always keep things grounded in real, relatable emotion.

It is a thoughtful film, a serious one, and one that is sneakily affecting.

If you're a mom or dad bringing your own little primates to the movie, that's a good thing.

Pitt and Hill are fantastic individually, and hilarious when together -- and on a surprisingly engaging script by Aaron Sorkin ("Social Network") and Steve Zaillian ("Schindler's List").

With its emphasis on relationships and character, Drive can best be described as a thinking man's action film -- or at least, it could if it didn't ultimately feel so oddly slight. As it is, for all of its positives, it functions mostly as a guilty pleasure rather than as a movie that resonates the way, say, "Blue Valentine" does.

This is a world where training wheels are called "stabilizers" and where children leave something called "mince pies" for Santa. (Um. Ew?) As a result, the occasional line will fly over your little ones' heads. But you can also expect for them to be charmed by it all.

Yes, it is derivative, but in a year in which films from the 1980s are getting needless remakes seemingly every other week, this one stands out as a rare one that works. That's a good "Thing."

The kind of indie gem that doesn't come around nearly often enough -- and, when they do, often not enough people go to see them.

Anonymous starts admirably quickly, but Emmerich repeatedly forgets to look over his shoulder to see if his audience is keeping track of which stringy-haired Calvin Klein model is which.

Gets considerable gas from the fact that Bateman, Sudeikis and Day so convincingly play three idiotic pals. The real fun, though, is in the fantastic supporting cast.

It keeps things light and entertaining. And for $8 admission, that's never a bad investment.

The movie is quietly affecting, as Rush offers a moving and rewarding yarn about the need to move on in the face of personal tragedy, and about the strength of human connections.

Complemented by striking, well-conceived visuals, in Fukunaga's hands Bronte's tale of love and woe becomes one well worth repeating.

A gritty spy thriller directed by relative newcomer Daniel Espinosa, and a film that -- despite the occasional misstep -- ends up being a taut, suspense-filled ride.

Spurlock banks on his charm and likability -- and it's that charm and likability that make The Greatest Movie Ever Sold so much fun to watch.

There are moments when the freak-show elements of the film threaten to overpower its message, but that message is such a fascinating one -- and the debate an important one as well -- that The Elephant in the Living Room manages to overcome them.

It also is a film that does the impossible: It lubes its audiences' mental gears and sets them to spinning without insulting anyone and without issuing threats of eternal damnation. Subtlety, thy name is Vera. Can I get an "amen"?

There's meaning, great meaning, in Susser's wonderfully oddball little film.

It's easy to forget that you're watching a sci-fi film at all. That's because it's just a shade or two from not even being a sci-fi film.

An Ireland-set charmer oozing with a satisfying intelligence and driven by the considerable charisma of Brendan Gleeson ("Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows").

Ends up being a reasonably gripping story of political intrigue, international corruption and one woman's determined fight for justice.

Their story, as told by Pooley, also is a touching and quietly meaningful one, built around themes of tolerance, self-acceptance and unconditional love.

What it lacks in style, however, it more than makes up for in substance, as Shearer -- as smart as he is funny -- has assembled a vital and admirably accessible post-mortem on Hurricane Katrina.

McGlynn's film clocks in at just a shade under two hours, which normally would be a little long for a documentary. In this case, the length not only is warranted but welcomed.