Warm is the ultimate ’tweener temperature. It’s not “hot” or “cold”; it rejects extreme or definitive categorization. It’s the thermometer equivalent of “meh.” So, it’s fitting that writer/director Jonathon Levine’s film sports the noncommittal word as the lead in its title. Warm Bodies is completely OK. It is resplendently fine. It is immeasurably pretty good. Sadly, it really hoped to be great.

A Good Day to Die Hard is not Die Hard; it’s also not good and mostly takes place at night. So really, the whole title is a lie.

Like Frankenstein’s monster or fans of Two Broke Girls, this film shouldn’t exist and definitely shouldn’t work. And yet, it does. Boy howdy, does it ever.

Nothing brings back memories of Sean Penn’s history as a serial domestic abuser like watching him revel in a man being drawn-and-quartered by automobiles. What a weird choice to take a cheesy, scene-chewing, 1940s mob-boss role at this point in his career.

Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters is pretty much insane. And maybe it’s supposed to be.

Outside of the unspeakable fame and groupies, the best part of being a movie critic is getting a peek at stuff you may otherwise never see. One of my favorite annual traditions is checking out what the Academy felt were little films worthy of a little guy made of gold.

Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva) love the shit out of each other. Now in their 80s, the couple is affluent, cultured and about to stare into the abyss. One day, over breakfast, Anne stops communicating normally.

How deplorable are we as a people that the most palatable story we found attractive enough to tell stars the pasty Ewan McGregor and the quasi-translucent Naomi Watts? And as if it wasn’t enough to focus a story set in this maelstrom of human...

That members of the U.S. Senate have spent more time discussing the fictional depiction of torture in Zero Dark Thirty than they spent discussing the actual torture the military was performing in the wake of 9/11 is yet more proof that “Congress” is the opposite of “progress.”

Two minutes in: You can do this, Ryan. Sure, a three-hour film version of a Broadway musical is a dry way to waterboard you, but people say Les Misérables is the best adaptation yet. Maybe this is the one that finally changes your mind. Five minutes in: Nope. This is my personal hell.