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Crawford's such a good-hearted guy, you can't help but want a cut from his clippers.

A sub-sitcom stretched to an interminable 85 minutes.

The women (played by Tilda Swinton and Amy Madigan) are so intriguing and complex that they almost overcome the trappings of a non-linear narrative that's borderline academic.

The result is short on plot but long on observational detail and psychological resonance.

The actors work hard to concoct some chemistry, but it's tough to be Tracy and Hepburn, let alone Doris Day and Rock Hudson, when you're trying to get your mouth around lines that wouldn't pass muster on a UPN sitcom.

Watch Hepburn and Tracy in Adam's Rib. It's very something.

As a deeply personal work about free-floating existential identities, this 1989 film has the kind of grit and feeling that few action comedies can muster, with Eastwood and Peters interesting and unpredictable throughout.

It is the laziest sort of action comedy, with lumbering chase scenes, a dull-witted script and the charmless pairing of Mr. Eastwood and Bernadette Peters.

Playwright Phyllis Nagy's film directorial bow is an uneven affair.

The film was 'inspired' by Shana Alexander's book, but the tone comes straight out of the tabloids. This tone lies somewhere south of smugness but north of pure derision.

Christiansen's witless, badly acted thriller is a throwback to the early 1990s.

There are some interestingly nasty moments and some chills, but it's predictable and derivative.

This is a beautiful film hiding the terrible truth that is the horror of war.

It's Tommy Lee Jones' film: he produces a stiff ex-soldier whose clipped speech and manner hide a seething mass of apprehension and guilt.

Wild America often feels like a MMMBop-ish Hanson brothers music video redone for the Discovery Channel.

Neither thrilling nor horrific, the camera, plotting, dialogue and atmosphere are uniformly unconvincing: a conservatoire of false notes.

The overkill is strangely compelling and Mailer's disregard for taste and convention ensure his film is a massive but spectacular and unmissable folly.

This is the finest set of performances ever to grace a Clint Eastwood movie, and this time Eastwood even does a good job directing Eastwood. Every bullet in this movie matters.

This dark, melancholic film is a reminder-never more necessary than now-of what the American cinema is capable of, in the way of expressing a mature, morally complex and challenging view of the world.

Moncrieff grabs us with details and dialogue so authentic ... that she often makes us feel as if we're standing on our toes and peering in the window of one of our neighbors.

Worth watching for the coming-out party of Agnes Bruckner, a relative newcomer who shows her mettle with an extraordinary performance in this very ordinary tear-jerker.

The Kingdom works as an exotic action thriller, but its politics are so choked on checks and balances it cancels itself out.

When it's got the pedal to the metal, which is a substantial fraction of the running time, The Kingdom delivers the goods.

More epic than it needs to be and less profound than it should be, "Jolene" remains a watchable excursion into human frailty and foibles.

Chastain proves near-heroic embodying Jolene's innate strength and incremental wisdom. Yet she also makes us understand how the heroine's wobbly resistance to manipulative characters is overwhelmed time and again.