Allison Benedikt

It's hard to breathe in Andrew Lau and Alan Mak's Infernal Affairs, a relentlessly taut Hong Kong cop thriller that, unlike many of its cinematic peers, doesn't burn off tension in choreographed action sequences.

The "comedy" part of Sex is Comedy comes intentionally from cast-crew interaction.

The trouble with Bridget redux is also simple: Thai jail.

Overall the film is alluringly over-the-top without being overcooked.

Phony, disingenuous family entertainment, suffocated by its green bean casserole approach to Middle America, spineless cardboard characters and paper-thin plot "twists."

There's something both moving and crass in how directors Elliot Berlin and Joe Fab film these tiny paper fasteners.

A compelling piece of press criticism as it probes the media as terror's conduit of choice, spreading message and validating violence in the 1970s and today.

Only resonates when he (Brooks) strips it all away and focuses on parent and child.

It's a stunningly creepy specimen of Asian horror.

Though it's hard not to play it, the expectations game is a dangerous one, especially for sequels. And Roach's original, just like his overexposed star, set us up good.

Grace and Quaid imbue what could have been caricatures--with heart, intelligence and great comic timing.

Endearing but predictable.

McAvoy does his best with this subpar, heart-tugging material. At times his mix of easy charm and inner demon pulls Rory out from under the tired script, but those pesky dramatic forces keep pushing him back in for every predictable plot development.

Full of groovy music and comic characters--many with a priceless reaction to Lovelace's oral party trick--but it hardly manages to say anything new or thoughtful.

It's all neat and sweet and one-dimensional, more the moral to a story than a story.

Even with a new leading man and a more family-friendly rating, some things never change: The Mask still stars Industrial Light & Magic.

The scenery is pretty and the locals endearing, but Schorr never gets past charming.

Tucker has done a bang-up job, distancing and hypnotizing us with his frenzied, fragmented, sexy images. But war isn't a video game.

I'll describe the central characters in Disney's new ice-skating flick, Ice Princess, and you guess the plot.

An exhausting, predictable, even maddening moviegoing experience.

Just doesn't have the same zing.

So what started as a female "Agent Cody Banks" happily and seamlessly becomes so much more, with style and substance existing in unusual harmony for a spy spoof.

The gall of Peter and Bobby Farrelly. To think that a romantic comedy might work absent a sleazy wager or maddening miscommunication takes a lot of chutzpah.

All three men turn in superb and understated performances.

With husband and wife starring, you can't help but wonder which details here are autobiographical. No matter: This is obviously a deeply personal work for Attal, whose comic timing and passion can only serve him well both on screen and off.

The fatal flaw in David Duchovny's big-screen directorial debut, House of D, is not Robin Williams as a retarded janitor. It's David Duchovny, the man who chose to cast Robin Williams as a retarded janitor.

A poor man's "When Harry Met Sally."

Politics hovers over every moment of Another Road Home, Elon's layered, loving and deeply personal documentary about her quest to find the Palestinian caregiver who raised her.