IN TIME

Set in either the distant future or some Bizarro World version of the present, Andrew Niccol's sci-fi thriller In Time imagines an Earth in which time is literally our universal currency; an eight-hour work shift can add a few days to your life span, but a trip to the grocery store will cost you two weeks. (A slowly ticking, neon-green clock embedded in your forearm tells you just how much time you have left to spend.) It's also an Earth in which humans have been genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, and are then allowed one year more before their bodies shut down completely ... unless, of course, they have the proper means, or the proper lack of morals, to buy or steal as much extra time as they want.

FOOTLOOSE

It was probably inevitable that Paramount would get around to remaking Footloose, and once it did, the studio probably could've done worse than to hire director Craig Brewer for the job, despite a filmography (Hustle & Flow, Black Snake Moan) not exactly bursting with lighthearted confectionary fare. Yet considering that 27 years have passed since Kevin Bacon first screamed, "Let's da-a-a-ance!!!" to a grain mill full of eager young hoofers, shouldn't this new Footloose have been... I dunno... at least a slight improvement on the original?

50/50

Director Jonathan Levine's 50/50 casts Joseph Gordon-Levitt as a young man afflicted with a rare form of spinal cancer, and Seth Rogen as his loud, loutish, perpetually stoned best friend. Consequently, I expected the film's title and my chances of actually enjoying the movie to be one and the same. It's always great seeing Gordon-Levitt onscreen, but is there anyone left who isn't longing for a break from Rogen's braying, one-note shtick, even if, as he is here, the man isn't just presumably but damn near literally playing himself? (50/50's script is loosely autobiographical, and Rogen and author Will Reiser are real-life pals and frequent writing partners.)

DRIVE

Drive is the first action thriller I've seen in ages in which the chases and threats and killings actually matter. Yet it's also the first movie I've seen in ages, in any genre, in which a kiss actually matters, which is a far greater surprise. Directed by Danish helmer Nicolas Winding Refn, whose work here earned him Best Director laurels at this past spring's Cannes Film Festival, the film is a sleek, exciting, and unexpectedly affecting tour de force of mood, like what you'd get if the Michael Mann of Manhunter and the David Lynch of Blue Velvet collaborated on a scrappy, grubby B-picture for drive-in audiences. I couldn't possibly mean that as a higher compliment.