A masterful, unsettling film. To me it's like a modern version of Nicholas Ray's Bigger than Life: ostensibly about a protagonist suffering a mental breakdown, it's really a vivid evocation of the ills of contemporary America.

A pleasant enough pastiche, but I had forgotten about as soon as I left the theatre.

This is very much an auteur's film: the green room can be seen as a metaphor for Truffaut's celebration of bygone directors, while his performance is self-critical, depicting a melancholy loner too taken with his own obsessions to connect with other people. The musty brown-and-green cinematography combined with the solemn music contribute greatly to the film's atmosphere, though for me it is not quite a masterpiece.

Both times I've seen this I've been extremely impressed with the first section and less so with the second two. But there's plenty to chew on throughout: expressive uses of a range of different video formats, provocative cuts and associations, and the overall sense that this is very much a 21st century movie hinting at the effects of globalization and asking important questions about cultural heritage and memory.

A probing, deeply ambiguous morality tale and character study in the guise of a standard B Western. My favorite Boetticher so far.

A much better Indiana Jones movie than Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

The script is sometimes melodramatic and the makeup is problematic, but the solemnity and austerity of Eastwood's direction gives the movie a haunting, elegiac quality. It's also a rather incisive character study (if you excuse some of the turgid speculative scenes about Hoover's sexuality) with a great performance from DiCaprio. All things considered, a mature and reflective film from Eastwood.

Well it's certainly "experimental." Some elements of that experiment come off nicely: there are some provocative pairings of images, some good ideas and some funny and poignant moments. But a lot of it is fairly incoherent and tedious. Not to be missed if you have a chance to see it, though.

An exquisite masterpiece and one of John Ford's very best. It's not a case of sentimental mythologizing; it's a subtle character study of a man discovering his own talents and being drawn into his future. Fonda captures the complexity and contradictions of Lincoln - his simultaneous melancholy and humor, his populist idealism and savvy political maneuvering, his connection and aloofness.

It's entertaining enough, but a far cry from Tolstoy and yes, many of the leads are woefully miscast. Especially Fonda, but also Ferrer, Lom, and Homolka. Audrey Hepburn is rather good, though.

No film captures the emotions of joy and exuberance as well as this one.

Some of it is admittedly inscrutable, though I will surely gain more from a second viewing. Overall, though, I found it an enjoyable, comically surreal rumination on the idea of reconstructing art. Godard's tricks with the soundtrack and images are always inventive and playful, even if you're not quite sure what he's up to.

Exquisitely composed, beautiful in every way with hardly a false step along the way.

A movie I like more in concept than in execution. I admire Pasolini's idea of a neorealist approach to the story of Christ, and one that portrays Jesus as a revolutionary, but too often the results feel haphazard, sloppy, even lazy. For me, the film never attained the emotional heights that so many of its fans claim for it. Given its reputation, though, I'm willing to believe I'm just missing something.

I mean, it's alright.

I take back my earlier post, though I was correct in saying I would need a second viewing. The Rules of the Game is a masterpiece - funny, biting, poignant, and sad. The film has elements of farce, melodrama, tragedy, and satire and succeeds on all levels. The craftsmanship is incredible. I can't wait to delve into the special features on the DVD.

Truly one of the most dreamlike films I have ever encountered.

Dull, dull, dull.

Almost laughably bad. I know it's supposed to be about the sacrifice involved in making art, or something, but most of the time it seems little more than a standard horror movie, with all the obligatory jumps and scares. Aronofsky's unceasing use of close-ups is insufferable, as is his habit of spinning around with a handheld camera, following the dancers but not really allowing us to see the dance.

I don't know what to say about this film. I was able to enter into the rhythm of it for about two hours, after which I grew tired and bored, and was ready to dismiss the film as overindulgent. But the film's harsh beauty has not left my mind months after; I can't stop thinking about it. I will definitely watch it again to solidify my thoughts on it.

The massive storm setpiece that concludes the film is justly famous, one of the greatest things that Keaton has ever done. Who can forget the stunt with the open window? But the rest of the movie paled in comparison to Sherlock Jr. and Keaton's best work.

Two insufferable hours of smug intellectualism and tedious philosophizing with no visual or cinematic interest.

I loved this. I loved the tracking shots and the bright colors and the shifting tones and the non sequitur ending. Hilarious, absurd, surreal, and delightful.

Nowhere near the untouchable greatest-movie-ever-made masterpiece that so many people here make it out to be. The first part is a pretty good war movie, the second is more of the same, the third is interminable.

"A Looney Tunes rendition of The Big Sleep gone New Wave." Wow, that sounds like a fun movie. Instead, though, Made in U.S.A. is a rambling, alienating mess. Full of politics and movie references and disorienting sound effects and jump cuts, it really doesn't add up to much of anything. Nice colors, though.

For all of its grandeur and beauty and the theme of racism, this is a decidedly imperfect film. The romantic subplot and broad humor knock this down several notches for me. I think The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is a better Western, and there are several other Ford films I rank above this one.

My vote for the greatest Western, and maybe one of my top 10 films. It has many of the virtues of a classic studio Western like Stagecoach, but it scrutinizes the myth more carefully. It deals with all the great themes of the Western, is impeccably made, and has a lyrical and elegiac quality that never fails to move me.

About as perfect as films can get.

I know this film is much beloved, and I know it's supposed to be a metaphor for cinema, and I know it's supposed to be fun and playful. But I found it esoteric, interminable, and just dull. Maybe I'm missing something; certainly enough people love this film to warrant a second viewing. But I'm not exactly cherishing that prospect.

The cinematography, the composition, and the lighting is perfect. But upon a second viewing, I felt that the movie was far too self-serious and simplistic.