you won't know whether to laugh, cry, or moon the screen. Von Trier shoots, von Trier scores.

If Jamie Bell can't rescue a movie, it's probably not salvageable.

The message doesn't come through with any particular wit or metaphoric punch, and it makes such a strong case for the joys of gun ownership that it could serve as a recruiting film for the National Rifle Association.

When you have to ask yourself whether this parable is intended as comedic satire or stone-cold-serious moralizing, that's a big sign that you're watching a misfire.

A dumb movie that thinks it's smart is the worst kind of awful.

Wendy might have a bizarre sense of locale and idolatry, but the imagination of the filmmakers is just enough to help swallow their incredibly condescending posturing.

the story makes no sense and depends upon people acting based on some crazed Dane's mental stereotype of Americans rather than actual human beings.

Unable to determine its goal, Dear Wendy is a tweener, ideologically doctrinaire on the one hand and a wannabe hot youth movie on the other.

Baroque gun-toting fantasy and an uneasy sound track by the 1960s Zombies make this the heavy teen self-destruct flick of the year.