The revisionist version of natural history offered up in the Ice Age movies gets yet another twist in the fourth installment, 10 years after Manny the woolly mammoth, Diego the saber-toothed tiger, Sid the sloth, and Scrat the squirrel made their chilly debut to hot box-office receipts. The lessons of family and loyalty in Continental Drift may seem a little warmed over, but the creatively constructed laughs, amusing voice characterizations, and inventive CGI animation are reason enough to keep the series viable for kids to giggle about and grownups to belly laugh over—sometimes for exactly the same reasons. Once again, acorn-addicted Scrat is the cause of some pretty important behind-the-scenes machinations. His dialogue-free antics also serve as a stand-alone subplot that could easily be a very clever short film of its own. This time the weasely rodent's addled obsession with the fruit of the oak is revealed as the cause of the formation of the world's continents as we now know them. He sets the story—and planet Earth—in motion while pursuing a little nut in a hyperactive prologue that causes underground rifts that in turn form the famous shapes of Australia, Africa, North America, and the outline of Italy (which it turns out is shaped like a boot for a very good reason). Above ground this means more global chaos for the herd of animals we've come to know so well. All the familiar voices reprise their wonderful roles as fissures in earth and ice separate Manny (Ray Romano) from his woolly wife Ellie (Queen Latifah) and boy-crazy teenager Peaches (Keke Palmer). With a killer continental shelf bearing down on them, mother and daughter lead the madcap pack of animal characters toward a safe meeting place while Manny, Diego (Denis Leary), Sid (John Leguizamo), and Sid's crazy granny (Wanda Sykes) drift away on an iceberg schooner into a newly vast open ocean. While floating into oblivion, the mismatched pack encounters a band of animal pirates piloting another slab of ship-shaped ice, captained by a crazed baboon named Gutt (Peter Dinklage), who's bent on resentment-based revenge. The motley crew provides a plethora of comic encounters and a new raft of excellent voice actors. Running a close second to Dinklage in ingenious casting is Jennifer Lopez as Shira, a sultry tiger who, don't cha know, ends up on the good ship and falling for Diego in the end. The adventures of both the land- and sea-based creatures are full of clever gags and densely constructed set pieces that may not be quite up to Pixar story standards, but are certainly always on the ball and executed with computer-animation acumen that is astonishingly lifelike for such an unreal-looking world. Scrat's misadventures act as interstitial connectors to the parallel heroes' journey stories until they ultimately intersect in a massively scaled finale. Even after all the melting and refreezing, the Ice Age world is still a hot commodity in the animated-franchise business and remains a good investment despite the constancy of global rifts in entertaining family fare. —Ted Fry

Can anything keep Captain Jack Sparrow down? Well, as long as Johnny Depp plays the offbeat pirate of the high seas, as he does in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, the answer is "Not bloody likely, mate!" This fourth installment of the Pirates franchise is jolly good fun—nearly as good as the first one, in fact. The writing is crisp, the action amazing—and there's the addition of a foe finally the match of Captain Jack: Ian McShane as the dreaded, and dreadful, Blackbeard. McShane seems to be having as much fun as Depp, and that's saying something—channeling his dastardly character on Deadwood but keeping his epithets rated PG-13. Adding to the festivities is the winsome Penélope Cruz, as Angelica, a woman with a past entwined with Jack Sparrow's. Angelica now might be a fearsome pirate herself—or maybe just a cunning con artist tugging at Sparrow's heartstrings.

The action in On Stranger Tides centers on the quest to find the legendary Fountain of Youth in the Americas. But the plot, of course, is incidental in the Pirates films. From the earliest scenes, it's clear the action, and Depp's winking at the camera, are the stars. Captain Jack stages a giant food fight in front of the King of England, culminating in a chandelier scene worthy of The Phantom of the Opera, and he's off at a gallop. Along for the ride are previous cast members Geoffrey Rush (who's sold out and is now an unctuous representative of His Majesty's Navy); loyal sidekick Kevin McNally, who narrowly escapes a death sentence, and then celebrates by leaping on board Captain Jack's fraught mission; and Keith Richards as Jacky's dad, who speaks few words, but wise ones. There are even zombie pirates, and a mysterious mermaid. Pirates of the Caribbean isn't suitable for viewers under 8 or so, because it's dark and intense in spots, but otherwise, it's a rollicking good popcorn film. —A.T. Hurley

Fantastical writer Gary Ross (Big, Dave) makes an auspicious directorial debut with this inspired and oddly touching comedy about two '90s kids (Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon) thrust into the black-and-white TV world of Pleasantville, a Leave It to Beaver-style sitcom complete with picket fences, corner malt shop, and warm chocolate chip cookies. When a somewhat unusual remote control (provided by repairman Don Knotts) transports them from the jaded real world to G-rated TV land, Maguire and Witherspoon are forced to play along as Bud and Mary Sue, the obedient children of George and Betty Parker (William H. Macy and Joan Allen). Maguire, an obsessive Pleasantville devotee, understands the need for not toppling the natural balance of things; Witherspoon, on the other hand, starts shaking the town up, most notably when she takes football stud Skip (Paul Walker) up to Lover's Lane for some modern-day fun and games. Soon enough, Pleasantville's teens are discovering sex along with—gasp!—rock & roll, free thinking, and soul-changing Technicolor. Filled with delightful and shrewd details about sitcom life (no toilets, no double beds, only two streets in the town), Pleasantville is a joy to watch, not only for its comedy but for the groundbreaking visual effects and astonishing production design as the town gradually transforms from crisp black and white to glorious color. Ross does tip his hand a bit about halfway through the film, obscuring the movie's basic message of the unpredictability of life with overloaded and obvious symbolism, as the black-and-white denizens of the town gang up on the "coloreds" and impose rules of conduct to keep their strait-laced town laced up. Still, the characterizations from the phenomenal cast—especially repressed housewife Allen and soda-shop owner Jeff Daniels, doing some of their best work ever—will keep you emotionally invested in the film's outcome, and waiting to see Pleasantville in all its final Technicolor glory. —Mark Englehart

Fairy tales come vividly to life in The Brothers Grimm, a long-delayed fantasy/horror comedy that greatly benefits from the ingenuity of director Terry Gilliam. In lesser hands, the ambitious screenplay by prolific horror specialist Ehren Kruger (who wrote the American versions of The Ring and The Ring 2) might have turned into an erratic monster mash like Van Helsing. But Gilliam's maverick sensibility makes the film more closely comparable to Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow and Neil Jordan's The Company of Wolves, with the added benefit of impressive CGI effects and lavish (though cost-efficient) production design, making the most of a challenging $75 million budget. Kruger's clever conceit is to turn "folklore collectors" Wilhem and Jacob Grimm (Matt Damon and Heath Ledger, respectively) into 19th-century con artists who perform bogus exorcisms of "evil enchantments" while traveling from village to village in French-occupied Germany. The two soon find themselves ensnared in a genuinely supernatural crisis involving the curse of the Mirror Queen (Monica Bellucci) and such fantastical marvels as the Big Bad Wolf, the Gingerbread Man, and a host of other truly enchanted (and not altogether friendly) flora and fauna. It's kind of a mess, switching from over-the-top humor (mostly from Peter Stormare as a manic villain) to serious fantasy involving the beautiful Angelika (Lena Headey), who proves to be the Grimm Brothers' most reliable ally. And like many of Gilliam's films, Grimm suffered from production delays (during which Gilliam filmed Tideland), distributor fallout, and several changes in its theatrical release date, but none of these issues prevent the film from being a welcomed addition to Gilliam's remarkable list of credits. —Jeff Shannon

Everybody's favorite graphic novel comes to the screen (after years of rumors and false starts), less a roaring work of adaptation than a respectful and faithful take on a radical original. Watchmen is set in the mid-1980s, a time of increased nuclear tension between the United States and the Soviet Union, as Richard Nixon is enjoying his fifth term as president and the world's superheroes have been forcibly retired. (As you can probably tell, the mix of authentic history and alternate reality is heady.) Things begin with a bang: the mysterious high-rise murder of the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a masked hero with a checkered past, puts the rest of the retired superhero community on alert. The credits sequence, a series of tableaux that wittily catches us up on crime-fighting backstory, actually turns out to be the high point of the movie. Thereafter we meet the other caped and hooded avengers: the furious Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), the inexplicably naked Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup, amidst much blue-skinned, genital-swinging digital work), Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), Nite Owl II (Patrick Wilson), and Ozymandias (Matthew Goode). The corkscrewing storytelling, which worked well in the comic book, gives the movie the strange sense of never quite getting in gear, even as some of the episodes are arresting. Director Zack Snyder (300) doesn't try to approximate the electric impact of the original (written by Alan Moore—who declined to be credited on the movie—and illustrated by Dave Gibbons) but retains careful fidelity to his source material. That doesn't feel right, even with the generally enjoyable roll-out of anecdotes. Even less forgivable is the blah acting, excepting Jeffrey Dean Morgan (lusty) and Patrick Wilson (mellow). Watchmen certainly fills the eyes, although less so the ears: the song choices are regrettable, especially during an embarrassing mid-air coupling between Nite Owl II and Silk Spectre II as they unite their—ah—Roman numerals. In the end it feels as though a huge work of transcription has been successfully completed, which isn't the same as making a full-blooded movie experience. —Robert Horton

Having developed his skill as a master of contemporary crime drama, writer-director Michael Mann displayed every aspect of that mastery in this intelligent, character-driven thriller from 1995, which also marked the first onscreen pairing of Robert De Niro and Al Pacino. The two great actors had played father and son in the separate time periods of The Godfather, Part II, but this was the first film in which the pair appeared together, and although their only scene together is brief, it's the riveting fulcrum of this high-tech cops-and-robbers scenario. De Niro plays a master thief with highly skilled partners (Val Kilmer and Tom Sizemore) whose latest heist draws the attention of Pacino, playing a seasoned Los Angeles detective whose investigation reveals that cop and criminal lead similar lives. Both are so devoted to their professions that their personal lives are a disaster. Pacino's with a wife (Diane Venora) who cheats to avoid the reality of their desolate marriage; De Niro pays the price for a life with no outside connections; and Kilmer's wife (Ashley Judd) has all but given up hope that her husband will quit his criminal career. These are men obsessed, and as De Niro and Pacino know, they'll both do whatever's necessary to bring the other down. Mann's brilliant screenplay explores these personal obsessions and sacrifices with absorbing insight, and the tension mounts with some of the most riveting action sequences ever filmed—most notably a daylight siege that turns downtown Los Angeles into a virtual war zone of automatic gunfire. At nearly three hours, the film qualifies as a kind of intimate epic, certain to leave some viewers impatiently waiting for more action, but it's all part of Mann's compelling strategy. Heat is a true rarity: a crime thriller with equal measures of intense excitement and dramatic depth, giving De Niro and Pacino a prime showcase for their finely matched talents. —Jeff Shannon

"Remember, remember the fifth of November," for on this day, in 2020, the minds of the masses shall be set free. So says code-name V (Hugo Weaving), a man on a mission to shake society out of its blank complacent stares in the film V for Vendetta. His tactics, however, are a bit revolutionary, to say the least. The world in which V lives is very similar to Orwell's totalitarian dystopia in 1984: after years of various wars, England is now under "big brother" Chancellor Adam Sutler (played by John Hurt, who played Winston Smith in the movie 1984), whose party uses force and fear to run the nation. After they gained power, minorities and political dissenters were rounded up and removed; artistic and unacceptable religious works were confiscated. Cameras and microphones are littered throughout the land, and the people are perpetually sedated through the governmentally controlled media. Taking inspiration from Guy Fawkes, the 17th century co-conspirator of a failed attempt to blow up Parliament on November 5, 1605, V dons a Fawkes mask and costume and sets off to wake the masses by destroying the symbols of their oppressors, literally and figuratively. At the beginning of his vendetta, V rescues Evey (Natalie Portman) from a group of police officers and has her live with him in his underworld lair. It is through their relationship where we learn how V became V, the extremities of the party's corruption, the problems of an oppressive government, V's revenge plot, and his philosophy on how to induce change.

Based on the popular graphic novel by Alan Moore, V for Vendetta's screenplay was written by the Wachowski brothers (of The Matrix fame) and directed by their protégé, James McTeigue. Controversy and criticism followed the film since its inception, from the hyper-stylized use of anarchistic terrorism to overthrow a corrupt government and the blatant jabs at the current U.S. political arena, to graphic novel fans complaining about the reconstruction of Alan Moore's original vision (Moore himself has dismissed the film). Many are valid critiques and opinions, but there's no hiding the message the film is trying to express: Radical and drastic events often need to occur in order to shake people out of their state of indifference in order to bring about real change. Unfortunately, the movie only offers a means with no ends, and those looking for answers may find the film stylish, but a bit empty. —Rob Bracco