Mini-Review: Very, very well acted misery porn, but misery porn nonetheless. Mo'Nique is fantastic, as are Sidibe, Carey, and Patton, but the film is rambling past the point of episodic to being insanely disjointed, the moralizing is too easy, the optimism is forced and treacly, and Daniels' direction seemed amateurish to me, using gimmick upon gimmick (the talking photos, the music video montages, the Two Women scene, to name but a very few) as a poor substitute for true insight into Precious's psyche.

Mini-Review: Probably the closest anyone will ever get to making sense of Columbine, simply because it doesn't try to make sense of it. GVS understands that that's a dead-end road. To call it irresponsible is to be blind not only to that, but to the meaning of the real-life shootings and their aftermath. The lack of real actors among the cast can be distracting, but it's better than the alternative, and gives it chilling authenticity. This is the only high school I've ever seen on film that felt real.

Mini-Review: "Don't worry about me. I'm a grown-up. I'm fine." A terrifyingly real, dissonant duet between two of the most disturbingly sick yet recognizable characters ever. Despite coming in at what is, on paper, an absurd running time, the film is infused with a sense of dread and all-too-relatable anxiety that never lets up. Captures the maddening inscrutability that makes complex domestic problems so hard to solve. Messy and imperfect (would you really prefer the alternative?), but unforgettable.

Mini-Review: Lest we forget, before he was Batman, Christian Bale kicked off the new millennium as Bateman, one of the most dynamic, virtuosic, hilarious, unforgettable screen performances ever. The film itself functions equally well on the levels of character study, social satire, period piece, absurdist slasher farce, and mindfuck psychodrama. Next to the irrepressible Bale, the film's greatest asset might be the female eye behind the camera, lending this study of male vanity and insecurity some real bite.