Adapted from a journalistic book and, more importantly, the real-life exploits of conman Steven Russell, I Love You Phillip Morris is the incredibly true adventure of two inmates in love. Jim Carrey brings his elastic panache to the role of Russell with Ewan McGregor as the namesake Phillip Morris, Steven’s lover, muse, and unwitting partner in crime.

At first glance, Burning is nothing more nor less than a bundled live performance DVD, a little something extra to add value to an already pretty sweet live album by Mogwai, Special Moves. Thankfully, this roughly 45-minute concert vid transcends the confines of its essentially commercial function, turning out to be a rather interesting and refreshing work of art in its own right.

Why did Danny Boyle decide to make a 94-minute film about a climber who spends five days with his arm pinned by a large rock before performing an amputation with a dull multi-tool? Sadly, the answer has less to do with perversion than it does with cheap optimism. Normally I’d be wary of spoiling the finale, but everyone who knows what 127 Hours is about also knows the story of Aron Ralston. And let’s be honest, the only reason you’d watch it is if you were interested in seeing a filmic representation/interpretation of a dude hack through his own arm.

Steve Antin’s Burlesque is so chock-full of clichés that it’s impossible to take seriously. I mean that in a good way. By abandoning original storytelling and opting for pure cheese, the film invites audiences to laugh at its uninspired melodrama. Fans of ribald fare like Chicago and Cabaret will appreciate how Antin and his cast imbue the on-screen singing with coy eroticism.

If you like a slice of pastiche with your pumpkin pie, this might be the Thanksgiving film for you. Ostensibly (and for lack of a more coherent option), Love & Other Drugs is classed as a romantic comedy. In truth, it’s equal parts humor, sex, melodrama, and cliché, a half-baked film that aims to please without truly satisfying.

Loose and anomalous, often described as a cinema filled with palpable delights and sensual motion, Claire Denis’ films tend to drift in and around classical ideas of narrative instead of interlocking and engaging with them. What makes White Material, the director’s latest film, so special is that at times it moves, and even feels, like a film far and away from Denis’ repertoire, more dynamic and immediate filmmaking bordering on a genre piece. But the film refuses to provide easy answers in the way of psychological platitudes or moral judgments.

Enter the Void is a film that ought not to be summarized, synopsized, or analyzed. It is to be experienced. Sure, there’s a story, but frankly it’s not far from the basic plot of The Lovely Bones. The narrative is functional, but virtually irrelevant. What makes seeing Void a mesmerizing experience is French director Gasper Noé’s spectacular filmmaking, a hyperactive head-trip that makes Danny Boyle’s “do-the-Dew” pyrotechnics look like child’s play.

Great movies are not about issues, they are about people. It’s unfortunate to have to trot out this platitude, but Never Let Me Go doesn’t seem to leave me a choice. While the film’s heart is set on greatness — it’s serious, somber, gorgeously shot — it misses the mark that every book adaptation should aim for. No one could imagine getting a better experience reading a story off a movie screen — with nothing but words projected at 24 frames per second — than they would off a book in their lap.