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Alan Ball goes back to his American Beauty form with a story of a young girl’s struggle to understand her own sexual obsessions.

We just can’t get enough Rhona Mitra, but is it possible that “Doomsday” delivers the blood and violence we expect with a woman who is out and out a badder chick than Rhona!? Prepare to meet Viper.

Denzel Washington helms his second motion picture and shows he has worthy skills behind the camera as well as in front of it, although there’s no question as to which he does best.

The screen adaptation of Cecelia Ahern’s novel was originally set in Ireland but has been transported to New York City to create a vehicle for Hilary Swank to show her softer, funnier side.

Though this film had me at “achingly romantic,” I cringe at the thought of someone rolling their eyes and overlooking this remarkable film at the fault of the advertisers who betrayed this film’s distinct uniqueness.

Christmas has finally swung in my direction. No more Tim Allen (though I like him), no Decking the Halls or Jingling of Bells but BLOOD.

Films that center around pregnant women, in this case a teenage girl, are nothing new, especially this year. Then how is it in 2007 the concept produces winner after winner? Damn good writing.

What better way to celebrate Christ’s birth than watching two warring alien races kicking the holy hell out of each other?

Like a lot of people, I did not have high expectations going in for Alvin and the Chipmunks.

After at least a decade, if not much more, of lackluster films from Sidney Lumet, the fading titan has strikingly returned to form with a fiery, blustering crash. Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is easily the best-acted film of the year, but what’s more is that it’s a sharp piece of cultural criticism [...]

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is as good of a film as Sidney Lumet has ever made and that is really saying something considering he’s been at it for over half-a-century.

The second installment of what will probably be a twenty-three-movie cash cow picks up after the charm of finding the last treasure has worn off.

Unlike the talkative Lions for Lambs, you can come away with an entertaining message movie that’s a breezy hour-and-a-half.

I hate to have to throw myself into the fires of minority hell, but I’m compelled to vote no on Tim Burton’s dour, overly dark and overly bloody Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

They say that time heals all wounds. Well, apparently it heals mediocre movies as well.

Set in a small town, the film is populated by cardboard cutouts of your standard archetypes: the religious fundamentalist, the haughty fella from the city (black, natch), the reckless small-town simpleton, etc. etc.

Based on the 1954 science fiction novel by Richard Matheson, Robert Neville (Will Smith) is the last man living in New York City…

Burton, from Sondheim’s source material (a helluva score), does a heck of a job balancing the unwinking bloodletting with a bit of dark comedy.

Last year, it was Martin Scorcese that rocked the gangster-movie lover’s hearts with a duel between a mobster-cop and a cop-mobster. This year, another brilliant director, takes his turn to honor the genre.

When will science ever learn?