Not to be overlooked are the film's wealth of fine supporting performances and technical contributions-the always wonderful Emily Mortimer, Martin Ruhe's extraordinary cinematography and Kave Quinn's incisive production design each playing a part in what must be considered one of the very best films of the first half of 2010.

Uproariously funny.

A whipsmart twist on a particular kind of romantic comedy.

Beautiful Boy is a discerning film lover's off-season tonic, regardless of where, when or how it's seen. What matters most is simply that it be seen.

Compellingly taut and existentially thoughtful, this exceptional Euro-American hybrid is perfectly pitched for the kind of crossover success previously enjoyed by Guillaume Canet's 2006 surprise hit "Tell No One."

Meticulously thoughtful and economical in its execution, from its camerawork to its editing, Farhadi's carefully wrought narrative and the ways it handles the fragile emotions of its characters truly sets it apart, not only from contemporary Iranian cinema but world cinema in general.

Though less splashy than "Red Cliff," or for that matter "Hero," or even "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," the picture nonetheless embraces a classic melodramatic approach to an otherwise familiar Ching Dynasty tale, delivering one of the most bracing Asian period films in many years.

A powerful and provocative look at the seismology of the Iranian social order and the connective tissue that sustains Iranian women in particular.

Fans of "Train of Life" will undoubtedly embrace the picture's similarly ragtag collection of clever, lovable misfits.

Casting is almost uniformly first rate with Cox, Purefoy and the always brilliant Giamatti providing noteworthy standouts.

It's a mood piece more than a conventional documentary and it should do comfortably above average business on the theatrical documentary circuit, particularly given its location on the list of Oscar nominated documentaries.

A charming oddity, a character-driven drama with just enough fringe genre elements to both enhance and distract, though ultimately hewing closer to the former to make the latter only a minor annoyance.

Offers the kind of intimate, naturalistic look at human interaction that recalls the heyday of Eric Rohmer.

It's hard to watch Farewell without thinking of such '70s classics as "All the Presidents Men" and "Network," mature dramas that Hollywood has since all but abandoned (with intermittent exceptions like The Insider).

It may be the most glaringly, if unintentionally, personal film that Zhang has made since 1994's "To Live."

A kind of Ealing Comedy throwback that is arguably her best film since Beckham.

The real star of the film, however, is Shapiro who, despite treading on marginally derivative subject matter, demonstrates a solid sense of style and a refreshingly delicate hand with actors.

Despite its ultimate lack of profundity, Gainsbourg is certain to still be a sufficiently engaging and meaningful experience to enthrall the initiated while stimulating the curiosity of the uninitiated.

Though it fails to live up to its dynamic predecessor in almost every way, District B13: Ultimatum should still be enough to satisfy the earlier film's small but faithful core of American fans.

It's certainly a story worth telling, but hardly as pivotal and all-encompassing as they would like to believe, all of which makes the effort far more exhausting than it ever should have been.

While it never quite rises above the problems inherent in the material, The Spy Next Door does shine in those moments when Jackie and his stunt crew are permitted to do what they do best.

Notwithstanding Steven Soderbergh's name among the nine credited producers, this is strictly mid-level assembly line product, designed to ride entirely on the modest marquee value of second-tier or past-prime stars.

Tedious and forgettable.

Should be immediately screened in film schools across the world as a shining example of everything that is wrong with the American studio system and the increasingly dreadful junk it produces.

To say that Marshall's technique is so low-brow it may as well be a moustache is being kind--at best this is the sort of lazy, ambitionless hackery that can lead both filmmakers and audiences to write off a genre for dead--or at least until a more skilled storyteller is able to do it right.