Search: Starring Sean Penn

An equal, not a sequel from one of cinema's brightest hopes.

Being a loser is like dying by degrees. Mueller, with co-writer Kevin Kennedy, reflects this most accurately and Penn's performance runs contrary to anything he has done before.

The pace is relentless and raucous - so much so that many viewers will feel alienated.

As a snapshot of the influence parents bring to bear on their offspring it lacks engagement for the audience and takes the attitude that everyone watching should be enrapt by the self-importance Penn brings to bear.

Outbreaks of emotion get swung about like loose punches in a brawl - gung-ho yet completely missing the target.

Michael Douglas is electrifying.

The story lacks originality

As a piece of writing, it has a sharp, smart gloss, without soul or feeling.

It feels very much like a first stab at a subject by people who still have a good bit more to learn.

Kidman has the sensitivity of a fawn and the tenacity of a dingo.

This is a shivery thriller, made better by a disturbing lack of information.

Buttons are pushed, emotions manipulated.

In one of the finest performances of his career, Sean Penn is understated to convey finer feeling, yet passionate on the soap box to an inspirational degree.

Penn is powerful; Bacon is sharp; Robbins is troubled; Fishburne is alert. Having them here is a privilege and a pleasure

One detail after another rewards.

Seen purely in aesthetic terms, Persepolis is an object of rare beauty, with no obvious precedents or parallels in the history of anime.

He takes the antihero into areas of sad you never knew you wanted to avoid.

The nostalgic delight of this movie is due partly to Santo Loquasto's production design and Laura Cunningham Bauer's costumes, both of which are outstanding.

Nil points for originality.

Funny, moving and endlessly surprising.

A stunning film, Malick's greatest work to date.

The acting is either terrible or terrific and the social set pieces, like the Princess's dinner party, seem positively absurd.

Oliver Stone directs like a grasshopper on amphetamines.

It’s the cinematic equivalent of Morris dancing: there’s lots going on, it’s entertaining enough – but you’re not entirely sure what the point is.