Moore doesn't do quandaries. He doesn't want people to ask questions. He just wants them to swallow his answers.

The Toronto International Film Festival is often a venue for anointing the preordained, the first stop on the studios' long march toward Oscar season.

Dubbing himself Agent 0014, "because I'm twice as smart as 007," he collects hundreds of hours of surreptitiously recorded audio and video tapes toward building the government's case. That much, at least, is fact.

Tarantino is more interested in tailoring the WWII movie to fit his preoccupations than the other way around. He even manages to satisfy his foot fetish by having an errant high heel play a pivotal role in the climactic sequence.

The movie has its share of zinger, but at its heart is a pitch-black and utterly true-to-life portrait of the modern political era.

Unlike Napoleon Dynamite or Juno, (500) Days of Summer hurts.

"If you want your films to be beautiful, and you want to have beautiful images and beautiful sound and beautiful acting, you have to kind of corral all the collaborators."

The movie's provocations connect only fitfully, and despite its comparatively strong narrative, it feels less of a piece than Borat, and more like an overlong episode of Cohen's TV show.

Beginning with the epigraph, "War is a drug," The Hurt Locker puts forth a theory of adrenaline addiction. These are men who live for the high of imminent danger — and, according to the movie's blunt and superfluous coda, can't live without it.