There isn't a whole lot of nuance in writer-director Rachid Bouchareb's unapologetically political movie. As such, it doesn't take much brainpower for a viewer to stay a step or two ahead of his plot the entire way.

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

That character flaw makes for some great shock-fueled laughs in Lewis' film -- Giamatti does full-on comic rage as well as anyone.

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

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

Has potential to be fun and meaningful, but it's not exactly a novel idea. In fact, it feels like a literary-minded "Lars and the Real Girl," the 2007 dramatic comedy that starred Ryan Gosling as a man who falls in love with a sex doll, and which coasted along on its charm and smarts.

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.

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

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.

Seizing the role, and the screen, Gelber actually makes us care what happens to his surly, thoroughly unlikable character.

Some of those detours are fun ideas - like Marty's O. Henry-esque tale of the Amish psychopath. Mostly, though, they feel out of place, like so much filler that distracts from the half-developed main story. Call me crazy, but I need more from my movie.

The truth, however, is that for much of Soderbergh's film, it's all as yawn-inducing as its premise.

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.

It's all good, goofy fun.

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.

Beautifully shot, but terribly dull.

Is Premium Rush a two-wheeled "French Connection"? No, not by a long shot. (Although it does include a racing-beneath-the-el-train homage.) But when it comes to lightweight, synapse-free action fare, Premium Rush delivers.

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.

The problem is that the film must re-establish a great deal of mythology, much of which is already familiar to most moviegoers. Unfortunately, Webb's film never quite makes usshake the feeling that we've done all this before.

The music, of course, is the engine that makes the whole exercise go, tapping into a genre-spanning collection of tunes, but every bit as important to the film's success is its unexpected humor, which flirts with raunchy but stops juuuust short of crossing any lines that would have earned it an R rating.

Billed as a dramatic comedy, and it lives up to that billing, even if it tends more toward chuckles than guffaws. In other words, one thing it's not is "It's Complicated," Streep's previous -- and often riotous -- relationship dramedy.

Unfortunately, Franklin isn't quite as successful at capturing the depth of the traditions for which Anaya's source material is so well known.

There are some nice surprises in store, as well, but the longer Madden's story goes on, the more manufactured things tend to feel.

Parnassus is a cold film that delights in dancing along that fine line separating "fantastical" and "nonsensical." Then, when a movie is supposed to hit things home -- in that all-important third act -- it lands with a thud on the wrong side.

For her part, Stewart has Jett down pat: her strut, her slouch, her sexiness. This is a performance that goes far beyond Jett's shag haircut.

What Noyce and company don't seem to realize is that there's a huge difference between a superspy and a superhuman.

It's fun, and it's funny, and -- the best part -- it comes carrying a "yeehaw"-inducing sense of a treasure found.

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.