LaBute is coming of age as an artist, and his future looks brighter than I ever would have suspected a year ago. Enfant terrible or not, he's starting to become a substantial figure in American film.

Disarmingly funny new film with a doozy of a twist ending... may be his best, cruelest, most vital act of confrontation yet.

Neil LaBute delivers his most interesting and powerful film to date, though it's also his most unpleasant and disturbing.

Very much in line with his maiden screen efforts "In the Company of Men" and "Your Friends and Neighbors"...ends with a satisfying shudder of recognition at the extreme cruelty possible within human relationships, particularly those conceived by Neil LaBute.

His (LaBute) observation of human nature is keener than before, his dialogue more attuned to ambiguities.

LaBute has that rarest of attributes, a distinctive voice. You know one of his scenes at once. His dialogue is the dialogue overheard in trendy mid-scale restaurants, with the words peeled back to suggest the venom beneath.

LaBute never loses sight of what shape he wishes this crafty story to take. In the end, his aim is true.

What starts out as a talky, modern-day re-interpretation of "Pygmalion" (Henry Higgins is explicitly mentioned) turns into something heart-wrenchingly bleak.

The film is certainly clever enough to hold an audience's interest throughout, though in the end it's a victim of its own ambition. As a moral investigation, it's shallow and ultimately ludicrous.

The cast helps enliven what could otherwise come off as a treatise. All four actors played these roles during the play's off-Broadway run.

The actors nail the comic sting in every line, punctuated by eleven prime Elvis Costello songs.

Intended as food for thought, but all we really get is a light snack -- the kind that's heavier in presentation than in substance.

In The Shape of Things, love doesn't just hurt: It bites, and bites deep.

Neil LaBute is back to his old self, and the cinematic world is a better place for it.