Cool violence, all because a ruthless right-wing government outlawed feeling and being nice to pets.
A Puerto Rican charmer should have stayed a drug dealer and not got mixed up with those crooks on Wall Street.
How racist of those Aussies who thought they were bringing civilization to Aborigines down under.
The likable Kevin Kline may have wanted to play Mr. Chips, but this film's makers have cast him as Regis Philbin.
Michael Caine is tired and old, and so is the anti-American moral equivalence that informs this ham-fisted adaptation of the Graham Greene novel.
The first crime of Father Amaro, it seems, was ever allowing himself to get mixed up with that gang of mobsters known as the Roman Catholic Church.
Atom Egoyanâ€™s curiously unemotional re-telling of the story of the Armenian massacres of 1915 loses itself in its inability to tear itself away from the present day.
More anti-1950s propaganda, along the lines of Pleasantville and American Beauty. Will movies a half century from now look back on our time with similar ridicule and scorn?
Hollywood, as usual, brings us every adult's Christmas fantasy.
Paul Thomas Anderson may be brilliant, but he's not brilliant enough to direct Adam Sandler out of being Adam Sandler.