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A film trying feverishly to spin your head whilst feverishly trying to explain how it's spinning it.

The action set pieces are deliriously spectacular; one involving a gravity-impaired Gordon-Levitt in an ever-rotating hallway is wondrous to behold.

Screenwriter Diablo Cody and director Jason Reitman make Juno the marvelously un-still center of a wistfully acerbic comedy that qualifies as a feminized version of Knocked Up.

Fierce without being cruel, sweet without becoming saccharine, and never short of hilarious, it's not only the best comedy of the year, but one of the best films, period.

[Whip It] treats its mostly female cast of characters with respect, and this is (sadly) a rare treat in cinema. Hannah Montana may be this generation's Spice Girl, but Bliss Cavender is the one really waving the 'girl power' flag.

Barrymore is just as determined to land some insightful and unexpected dramatic punches as she is with the inherent physical comedy for which the sport is renowned.

Personally, I'd rather have this movie obliterated from my memory.

Thoroughly confounding the 'normal' relationship between abuser and victim, first-time director Slade presents a complex morality tale under the guise of an exploitation thriller.

Tragic tale of child abuse fails to make any sense of the crime.

Not even the considerable talents of lead thesps Catherine Keener and Ellen Page can alleviate the artistic nullity that is An American Crime.

There are four "stories", linked by the fact that they all take place in Rome. None of them are funny, interesting or in the slightest way connected to how real people exist.

Allen's Roman sojourn results in little more than a series of fanciful vignettes, occasionally insightful and not without the odd chuckle, but mostly just rather silly and inconsequential.

Hypnotic slo-mo images of honeybees flapping their wings are about all that distinguishes the docu Vanishing of the Bees from a well-researched article on its subject.

Fascinating subject expertly covered.

Smarter than your average romantic comedy it may be, but this family-dysfunction indie is playing it a bit safe.

Strong performances and a few laughs, but the story feels lazy next to superior efforts recently in the same genre.

An exploration of the heightened, extreme emotional sensations of adolescence, The Tracey Fragments is demanding and relentless, an image overload in search of resolution.

To criticize a film called The Tracey Fragments for being too fragmented may sound a bit on-the-nose, but this experimental drama from Canadian director Bruce McDonald is interesting for a while and then goes to pieces.

A carefully drawn portrait of family life.

A respectable addition to the tragic three sisters oeuvre.

A tastefully reverent, fundamentally sincere treatment of Margaret Laurence's 1964 Manitoba-based novel, a staple for Canada's 12th graders.

Left me feeling respectfully indifferent, as if I'd been served a nutritious meal that was only fleetingly satisfying.