Thirteen Conversations about One Thing (Jill Sprecher, USA) Opening-night movies are usually chosen for their feel-good, crowd-pleasing quality, so credit the SFIFF programmers with some nerve for selecting this sometimes ironically witty but generally somber drama. Making a big leap from her OK but modest office-comedy debut, Clockwatchers, director Jill Sprecher has crafted an unusually depthed ensemble piece about disparate lives intersecting – or not – in contemporary NYC. Matthew McConaughey plays a smug prosecutor whose involvement in a hit-and-run accident destroys his assurance of purpose. Alan Arkin is a divorced insurance-company manager pained by the good fortune he sees inevitably going to other, less deserving people. John Turturro is a mathematics professor who leaves his wife (Amy Irving) for a tenuous new life involved with a married woman (Barbara Sukowa). Clea DuVall's timid young housecleaner finds her faith in life's ultimate just rewards badly shaken by cruel happenstance. Sprecher's script (cowritten with sibling Karen Sprecher) is platitudinous at times, and "chapter"-separating intertitles that repeat those platitudes don't help. (Nor does the rather pretentious title.) Still, this is a rare American feature with genuine ambition, credible real-world narrative detail, philosophical weight, and a complex structure that never seems overschematic. Arkin is superb in one of his best-ever roles, but every actor here responds beautifully to Sprecher's call for introspective restraint. Thirteen Conversations won't exactly send you out in a party-hearty mood, but neither is it a straight-up downer – there's a melancholy soulfulness here that radiates its own redemptive light. 7 p.m., Castro. (Dennis Harvey)

Fri/19

Ichi the Killer (Takashi Miike, Japan/China/South Korea) Working at the peak of his form – no small feat, considering this is only one of at least seven features he made last year – reigning Japanese chaoticist Takashi Miike brings Hideo Yamamoto's notorious manga to glistening, blistering life. A nigh-catatonic video-game addict by day, the titular character is a leather-suited dealer of death by night, spectacularly disemboweling yakuza tough guys with one hand and beating off to the sight of a bludgeoned prostitute with the other; the film's title card is even written in his warm, frothy ejaculate. Did I mention this is a comedy? The real star of the film isn't the eponymous Ichi, though, but his nemesis, the albino sadomasochist Kakihara, played – with a grin you'll never forget – by the sensational Tadanobu Asano. Midnight, Kabuki. Also Fri/26, 4:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Chuck Stephens)

Millennium Mambo (Hou Hsiao-hsien, Taiwan) The first in what Hou Hsiao-hsien intends as a series of films about life and love in present-day Taipei, Millennium Mambo has a habit of striking viewers who've only seen it once as one of the filmmaker's slightest works. Twice seen, it blossoms into something far greater: a study of lost time and outgrown impulse in line with the admittedly superior Flowers of Shanghai. In Mambo a restless twentysomething (the exquisite Shu Qi) vacillates between two boyfriends, one a techno DJ, the other a tough guy played by Hou veteran Jack Kao. Shu Qi's character narrates the movie's dis-ordered series of events from the distant perspective of 10 years after the time frame of the film, which is a gorgeously photographed meditation on agony, Ecstasy, and the life-changing effects of snow. 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Sun/21, noon, Kabuki; Mon/22, 9:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Stephens)

One Fine Spring Day (Hur Jin-Ho, South Korea) A sweet romance between a humble sound recordist and a fickle radio monologist that sours as it unfolds, Hur Jin-Ho's follow-up to his critically acclaimed, box-office-smash debut, Christmas in August, is a winsome minor effort. A soft-edged movie in which nothing could ever be cuter than the sight of lovers stroking a fuzzy wind sock (that is, a Tribble-shaped outer cover for a boom microphone), it continues Hur's trajectory as one of Asia's most sensitive melodramatists; even its hero's turn toward stalking is directed with a feather-light touch. Lee Young-Ae is excellent as the older, more willful girlfriend, who wins the young boom-handler – and the audience – with the classic endearment "You look cool when you're drunk." 4 p.m., Castro. Also Sun/21, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Stephens)

Pier Paolo Pasolini (Laura Betti, Italy/France) Portraits of filmmakers typically filter their subject's life through his or her on-screen oeuvre, but few would argue that Italian director-fly in the ointment Pier Paolo Pasolini was typical in any respects of his artistic career. So it seems perversely fitting that longtime collaborator Laura Betti's unconventional look at the auteur treats his cinematic output as little more than tiles in a large and varied mosaic, dropping in random clips of his films with little introduction, identification, or explanation. Made in conjunction with the Pasolini Institute, this documentary favors home movies (including a soccer match between the crews of Salo and Bertolucci's 1900), audiovisual documents of the director's lectures, and abstract footage, making manifest his proclamations on poetry, politics, etc. to flesh out a life. 7 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sun/28, 3:45 p.m., Park. (David Fear)

Sisters (Sergei Bodrov Jr., Russia) The appeal of this picaresque tale of two half sisters who grudgingly grow to love each other rests squarely on its main characters, 13-year-old Sveta (stone-faced Oksana Akinjshina) and 8-year-old Dina (pouty Katya Gorina). Cohorts of Dina's gangster daddy threaten to kidnap his precious daughter, so Sveta, a promising would-be sniper who has been raised by her working-class grandmother, leads Dina into hiding. The resulting adventures (which make use of Sveta's shooting skills, as well as both girls' affection for belly dancing) bring the unlikely allies closer than they'd ever imagined as they scrappily surmount adversaries like thugs and hunger – and handily win over the audience in the process. 5 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/22, 1 p.m., Kabuki; Tues/23, 9:30 p.m., Castro. (Cheryl Eddy)

A Taxi for Three (Orlando Lübbert, Chile) Two small-time thieves hijack a taxicab in a poor neighborhood of Santiago, Chile, and gradually convince cabbie and family man Ulises (Alejandro Trejo) that being their getaway driver is his only way of meeting his financial obligations. His transformation from an upright but beaten-down citizen to a top dog in the underworld unsettles a series of relationships, including his new partnership with Chavelo (Daniel Muñoz) and Coto (Fernando Gómez-Rovira), two derelicts with a moral trajectory of their own. Writer-director Orlando Lübbert's inspired black comedy ultimately suggests the compromised nature of all social relations in a system where only crime pays. An edgy drama full of dark humor and subtle, well-crafted performances, this is an engaging take on life in the post-Pinochet era. 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Sat/20, 7 p.m., Kabuki; Mon/22, 9 p.m., Kabuki. (Robert Avila)

The Trespasser (Beto Brant, Brazil) Quick, tense jump cuts and long, long takes that snake speedily through hallways and down streets. Sweaty businessmen with cell phones, murder schemes, drug holidays, and a penchant for underground whorehouse stress relief. Expensive houses and rotten human interiors. An occasional angry rock or rap interlude that surveys the city, drawing a line between those young, beautiful, or ruthless enough to survive and those so afraid of death that they walk right into it. Someone has been watching Abel Ferrara movies, and that someone is Beto Brant. Set in São Paolo, Brazil, The Trespasser is closer in spirit to Bad Lieutenant and King of New York's trigger-finger flashes of temper than it is to Ferrara's recent descents into doom, which are bleary-eyed from the beginning. The most obvious title suspect is a hit man played by Paulo Miklos, a bony hawk who could walk in the shoes of Walken and Keitel. 7 p.m., Castro. Also Mon/22, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki; Wed/24, 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Johnny Ray Huston)

Sat/20

El Bola (Achero Mañas, Spain) First-time director Achero Mañas locks his camera to roller coasters and free-falling Tower of Doom rides. He also takes the POV of a train motoring toward two boys as they sprint to pick up a bottle from the tracks. Pitched between exhilaration and dread, these realist images reflect the turbulent inner life of Mañas's protagonist, 12-year-old Pablo (Juan Jose Ballesta). At home Pablo is bullied and battered by his father; when he befriends a classmate from a less buttoned-down family, the violence escalates. El Bola's strengths are simple and limited; prosaic as a visual stylist, Mañas is an assured dramatist, and his screenplay exposes the ineptitude of social services without resorting to preachiness or false emotion. Yes, the European boy-meets-world genre is old, but this movie isn't wholly redundant. 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/22, 10 a.m., Kabuki; Tues/23, 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Huston)

Distance (Hirokazu Kore-eda, Japan) The events attendant upon mortality's end – grieving, remembering, loss – continue to be the primary domain of After Life director Hirokazu Kore-eda, here returning to the somber tones (if not the exquisite camera work) of Maborosi. In the aftermath of an Aum Shinrikyo-like terrorist attack on Tokyo, survivors of the perpetrators (dead by suicide) gather to consider – and perhaps exorcise – the lives and crimes of their former relatives. A range of scattered emotions haunt this dark and difficult film, and not everyone will have the patience to endure them all; those who do will find a statement about contemporary Japanese anomie far more to the point than anything in All about Lily Chou-Chou. Tadanobu Asano and Susumu Terajima costar here and in Ichi the Killer, taking turns driving each other to distraction with their respective passive-aggressions. 9 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Mon/22, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki; Tues/23, 3 p.m., Kabuki. (Stephens)

Inch'Allah Sunday (Yamina Benguigui, France) Yamina Benguigui's feature strikes a timely note in its consideration of women's rights in Muslim and other religious worlds, albeit without much (if any) subtlety. At last traveling from native Algeria to meet her long-absent, guest-worker husband in northern France of 1974, Zouina (Fejria Deliba) misses the family and community she's left behind – then misses all contact with the outside world whatsoever, as her newly surly, semi-Westernized spouse forbids her to leave their flat except to carry out rare gofer duties. Isolated and increasingly desperate, her situation not at all helped by the presence of a harpy mother-in-law, Zouina eventually realizes that the only solution is rebellion. This well-intended, feel-good-after-feeling-bad scenario is too crudely worked out, with caricatured supporting characters, broad comedy, and easy answers, making Inch'Allah more an exercise in trite art-house escapism than real insight. 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Sun/21, 1:30 p.m., Kabuki; Mon/22, 7 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

The Lady and the Duke (Eric Rohmer, France) French cinema stalwart and king of the Euro-gabfest Eric Rohmer has dipped his toe into historical waters before (see 1976's Marquise of O, 1978's Perceval), but neither of those genre forays could have prepared fans for this stylistic mix-and-match period piece. Grace Elliott (Lucy Russell), an Englishwoman living in revolution-era France, literally risks her neck to save innocents during Robespierre's Reign of Terror. Her former lover Philippe d'Orleans (Jean-Claude Dreyfus) sells out the aristocracy, and in turn himself, in the name of misguided ideology. Rohmer adapts the real Elliott's journal as a classic theatrical piece but shoots his film in beta digital video format with fake "green-screened" painted backdrops behind his actors. But even amid the crowded visual palette, the movie is still a Rohmeresque affair at heart that's fueled primarily by two people exchanging glances, philosophies, and words, words, words. 7:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/22, 4 p.m., Kabuki. (Fear)

Pistol Opera (Seijun Suzuki, Japan) For whatever reason, style-over-substance czar Seijun Suzuki has made a sort-of sequel to his 1967 maybe-masterpiece Branded to Kill, which got him famously blacklisted in the Japanese film industry for being "incomprehensible." Needless to say, the almost 80-year-old Suzuki isn't about to start playing for the other team quite yet. With a nominal plot about infighting among a gang of female assassins, Pistol throws cause-and-effect narrative out the window in exchange for ornate theatrical staging, wild color schemes, and symbolism writ large. While the original found strength in subverting a pulpy script and confounding expectations, the deliberately meandering, shapeless Opera really has no set agenda. That would be fine if the final reel didn't disrupt the fitfully pleasurable "movie from Mars" vibe by trying to address the millennium and the origins of nationalism in a baffling Butoh inferno. Tricky as ever, Suzuki winds up making his defense, and perhaps even writes his own elegy, by closing with the word "baka," the Japanese all-purpose good-bad catchphrase for "foolish." 10 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/22, 4:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Patrick Macias)

Ravi Shankar: Between Two Worlds (Mark Kidel, USA/France) The "two worlds" of the title are, of course, East and West (or more specifically, spirituality and celebrity), and this affectionate doc explores the formidably talented Indian master's ability to touch people all over the world with his music. Black-and-white films of a young, sprightly Shankar are mixed with present-day interviews with the subject, his friends, and family members. Tales of Shankar's rise to pop culture immortality via the Beatles (George was, of course, his favorite) are told alongside more serious discussions of Shankar's devotion to Indian classical music, his work scoring films, and his role as a global ambassador of Indian music. Fans of sitar music will probably enjoy this film more than casual listeners, as a good deal of the run time consists of performance footage both new and old. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sun/28, 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Eddy)

Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, Japan) On the surface a colorful animated romp for the whole family, Spirited Away is, like any fairy tale worth its salt, actually seething just under the surface with all sorts of subconscious hobgoblins. Young Chihiro ventures into the countryside, where her parents are magically turned into pigs and she finds herself enslaved by an evil witch to work in a resort for ghosts and other supernatural creatures. As ever, famed director Hayao Miyazaki creates gorgeous anime images with one hand and berates the Japanese people for their gluttonous greed and need with the other, yet the touch is light enough here to avoid the stifling preachiness of his previous film, Princess Mononoke. The film was inspired (à la Alice in Wonderland) by the 61-year-old director's chance encounter with a prepubescent girl, and there's a complex author-subject crux at work here, not all of it entirely wholesome (hint: Chihiro is symbolically working in a massage parlor). None of these contradictions stopped Spirited Away from becoming the biggest Japanese box-office hit of all time, and it will probably go over well when it opens in the United States later this year. The people who line up may not know, but Lewis Carroll would definitely understand. 6:30 p.m., Castro. Also Sun/21, 11 a.m., Castro; Mon/22, 9 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Macias)

To the Left of the Father (Luiz Fernando Carvalho, Brazil) Expansive, striking, and exasperating, writer-director Luiz Fernando Carvalho's adaptation of a novel by Raduan Nassar is one of those first features that seem almost as important as they think they are, even if you might wish the level of auteurist indulgence were less tidal. Set in a 1940s São Paulo, Brazil, farming region so remote it seems more like the Victorian era, the film focuses on the tortured path of a prodigal son (Selton Mello) driven to distraction by ultraconservative Catholicism and ill-repressed lust for a beauteous younger sister (Simone Spoladore). No question that Carvalho is a major filmmaker – with its monumental-minimalist elegance, gravitas, and experimentation with image and sound, Father sports elements of Russian cult figure Aleksandr Sokurov's mystic-aesthetic rapture. Yet at nearly three hours, the film is often maddeningly repetitious and is slowed by interminable stretches of pretentious narration. Love it or hate it or both, Father makes an impression that will leave no one indifferent, and there are sequences here so rich and original they leave an indelible imprint. 3:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/22, 3 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Sun/21

Decasia (Bill Morrison, USA) The accidental psychedelia of deteriorating film stock – altered by time and chemicals to splotch, streak, and mist original images almost past recognition – creates sensory overload in the found-footage collage of Bill Morrison's 70-minute feature. There's a certain poetry (already explored in Peter Delpeut's Lyrical Nitrate, as well as numerous experimental shorts) to this cinematic entropy, one that underlines the fragility of the medium, history, and humanity itself. Decasia's hypnotic effect is furthered by a thundering, Glenn Branca-like score from Bang on a Can cofounder Michael Gordon. Space out and enjoy the onslaught – but leave before the end credits start, since their interminable length (over one-tenth the total run time) leaves a mood-killingly pompous aftertaste. 5 p.m., Kabuki. Also Wed/24, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Go for Broke (Wang Guangli, China) Chinese director Wang Guangli's first film, 1999's Maiden Work, was a tart, politicized rumination on troubled art, underground filmmaking, and university life in Beijing. His follow-up, Go for Broke, is more radical still: it's heartwarming, old-fashioned, and produced by the ultraconservative Shanghai Film Studio. A dramatized reenactment of the true story of friends who start a construction business, almost lose it, win the lottery, and keep on working, Go for Broke is sexless, screedless, and adorably normal. Nevertheless, given China's (just recently modified) prohibitions against just about everything, the negative still had to be smuggled out of the country. 9:30 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Thurs/25, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki; Sun/28, 1:15 p.m., Park. (Stephens)

Hope along the Wind: The Life of Harry Hay (Eric Slade, USA) and Thoth (Sarah Kernochan, USA) Considered by many to be the father of gay-rights activism – as cofounder of the seminal Mattachine Society, the Radical Faeries, and other organizations – Harry Hay has lived a life more inspiring and colorful than fiction could invent. His radicalism extends back to 1930s U.S. Communist Party membership and harassment during the 1950s McCarthy hearings. Eric Slade's hour-long documentary provides a brisk but satisfying dash through nine decades to date – frail but still feisty, Hay recently celebrated his 90th birthday in San Francisco. Meanwhile, almost everything you ever wanted to know about the loincloth-wearing, dreadlock-topknotting, fiddle-dancing, Oscar-telecast-stealing star busker can be found in Sarah Kernochan's 40-minute documentary Thoth. Such as: Why don't we see him around anymore? (When his S.F. rent tripled, he moved to his mom's flat in NYC.) What's that gibberish he's singing? (A language he made up to go with the mythological world he has written a solo opera and designed an elaborate Web site for.) Surprisingly articulate and forthcoming in regard to his New Age eccentricities, Thoth (né Stephen Kaufman) reveals much more in this brisk portrait, which features plenty of spellbinding, gender-blurring, Yma Sumac-ian "prayformance" footage shot before dumbstruck crowds in Central Park and elsewhere. 12:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Thurs/25, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

The Inner Tour (Ra'anan Alexandrowicz, Israel) Shortly before the second intifada in 2000, a group of Palestinian men and women from the occupied West Bank visit their homeland in Israel aboard a chartered bus. For most of them this three-day sightseeing tour is their first trip to Israel. Living all their lives just an hour away, they have never seen the ocean or a city like Tel Aviv. In this beautifully made and riveting documentary, Israeli filmmaker Ra'anan Alexandrowicz captures the complex emotions, impressions, memories, and conversations of these remarkable people as they pass through an exquisite countryside suffused with awe and nostalgia. Alexandrowicz's decidedly human scale leaves political rhetoric behind, grounding the film's truths in the dignity and heroism of the subjects themselves. Their brief but dramatic encounter suggests the outlines of an alternative future to the violence of today, even as the camera registers a foreboding of the conflict that lies ahead. Plays with "Beneath the Borqa in Afghanistan." 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Tues/23, 6 p.m., Kabuki; Wed/24, 4 p.m., Kabuki; Thurs/25, 10 a.m., Kabuki. (Avila)

Musa the Warrior (Kim Sung-Su, South Korea) A knockout historical war epic of the first order, Musa the Warrior boasts an immense CinemaScope canvas containing masterstrokes of both sweeping drama and intense martial arts combat. Set during a chaotic period after the fall of the Mongol dynasty, the film follows a band of Korean exiles who must fight their way across a hostile Chinese landscape after silent but deadly spear master Jung Woo-Sung and military general Joo Jin-Mo vow to rescue and protect pouty captured Ming princess Zhang Ziyi (here displaying none of her Crouching Tiger-esque fighting prowess). Director Kim Sing-Su's unapologetic love of battlefield carnage (think Saving Private Ryan with swords and arrows) may keep some viewers watching between their fingers, but there is more than macho war posturing at work here. A masterfully subtle love triangle (something of a rarity in a cinema often ruled by flaming melodrama) balances out the blood and guts. The result is a film that is very nearly the Korean equivalent of The Wild Bunch and The Seven Samurai. 9:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Wed/24, 4:15 p.m., Kabuki; Fri/26, 1 p.m., Kabuki. (Macias)

News from a Personal War (João Moreira Salles and Katia Lund, Brazil) Drug dealing pays more than 10 times the minimum wage in the slums of Brazil's Río de Janeiro, where narcotics trafficking employs as many people as can be found on the city's payroll (100,000). Turf wars are fought with automatic machine guns, tracer ammunition, infrared night-vision equipment, and grenade launchers – and the cops have one of the most efficient urban combat units in the world. The statistics are daunting enough. But Notes from a Personal War evolves well beyond the facts and figures. Through rare interviews with drug dealers, civilians, a special-forces captain, and the chief of police and remarkable footage, directors João Moreira Salles and Katia Lund provide a beyond-the-pale analysis of the social, political, and economic factors that gave rise to the vicious, self-perpetuating war raging in the city's two-million-inhabitants-strong shantytowns, without ever losing that crucial human component. Given how the war on drugs has replaced cold war rhetoric in rationalizing U.S. foreign policy – and how it's quickly being folded into the "war on terrorism" – this film is a must-see. Plays with "Golden Gate." 6:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/22, 7 p.m., New PFA Theater; Wed/24, 1 p.m., Kabuki. (Camille T. Taiara)

Nights of Constantinople (Orlando Rojas, Cuba) Further evidence that Cuba-U.S. relations are warming (whether certain types like it or not) comes with this new comedy from veteran director Orlando Rojas, an unabashed stab at exportable art-house populism. The film centers on a clan of erstwhile aristocrats living in the baroque poverty of their crumbling Havana mansion – prisoners of the pre-Castro past as well as an imperious grandmother. Modernity nonetheless insists on sneaking in past the locked gates, eventually flooding Villa Florida with drag queens, nightclubbing tourists, and that greatest of all wall-topplers, sex. At first a familiar but pleasant mix of motifs borrowed from Fellini, Visconti, and Almodóvar, the movie ends up both too sloppy and too calculated to be the slam-dunk crowd pleaser it means to be. Still, crowds are sure to be at least somewhat pleased. 9:30 p.m., Castro. Also Thurs/25, 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Harvey)

Secret Ballot (Babak Payami, Iran/Italy/Switzerland) A ballot box is air-dropped into the safekeeping of a soldier standing watch in a sleepy backwater in Iran. When an agent from Tehran arrives fast on its heels to collect local votes in time for a national election, the soldier is at first loathe to cooperate since the agent is a woman. The dedicated bureaucrat at last manages to enlist the soldier as escort while struggling to make herself available to would-be voters and, with her persistent modern idealism, wrest participation from the more recalcitrant villagers, many of whom seem unaware they are living in a democracy. (One old-timer who happily succumbs to her arguments for voting can find no better candidate to write in than Allah.) Musing on competing allegiances to God, the gun, and the ballot, Babak Payami's charming and understated comedy lightheartedly accepts the incremental nature of "progress" in a traditional society. In the unlikely friendship that quietly blossoms between the soldier and the bureaucrat, the film hints at the decidedly human dimension to all social change. 3:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Thurs/25, 7:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Avila)

Teorema (Pier Paolo Pasolini, Italy) A factory owner and his bourgeois family go about their drab, meaningless existence until mysterious cipher Terence Stamp (playing God? Satan? an incalculably handsome '60s mod icon?) shows up one day for an open-ended visit. Awakening the entire household's dormant sexual appetites (hired help included), he then splits town, leaving a trail of nymphomania, madness, and the yearning to action-paint in his wake. Like the best of Pier Paolo Pasolini's work, Teorema's cocktail of Marxist politics, religious iconography, and carnal confusion swirls into a dense, intoxicating mixture. His theorem for a complacent society rocketing into chaos and, ultimately, transcendental bliss pinballs between poetry and pretension, apt to confound some modern viewers as much as it did audiences upon its original release in 1968. 6:30 p.m., Castro. (Fear)

The Wild Bees (Bohdan Sláma, Czech Republic) There's not much going on for the younger generation in a small Moravian town where lives revolve around how many bottles of peppermint schnapps one can consume during the course of the day. Quiet Kaja yearns to love the no-nonsense Bozhka, while his brother, Petr – the envy of many for having "escaped" the village – visits from Prague and urges Kaja to "get out or you'll go nuts." Meanwhile, Bozhka is dating the resident Michael Jackson impersonator, Ladya, who worships the King of Pop with an unironic fervor not seen stateside since Thriller dropped. A stream of darkly humorous moments – many at the expense of Ladya – give this somewhat downbeat tale twinkles of hope throughout. 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Wed/24, 4 p.m., Kabuki. (Eddy)

Mon/22

Far Away (André Téchiné, France/Spain) André Téchiné joins the growing ranks of old "masters" who now look to and through digivid to explode creative stasis. A Wild Reeds quasi sequel, his latest places two of that film's characters within a typically intricate story – a crisscrossed collection of people, their interplay divided into days – set in Morocco. Drug- and border-runs free and imprison Far Away's nuanced, not always likable characters; few directors personalize the political (and vice versa) so shrewdly. The weakest link is a tangential role: a buffoonish Paul Bowles composite. But Far Away's clarity and depth of color are remarkable for video, and the format grants Téchiné a brisk mobility that offsets his earnest headiness. At his best, he's peerlessly graceful. Playing straight for once, Euro hunk Stéphane Rideau showcases a beefier body, scruffier face, and chipped front tooth. 9:15 p.m., Castro. Also Thurs/25, 10 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

Streeters (Gerardo Tort, Mexico) Although Streeters, Mexico City's latest urban-survival flick, cannot escape comparison to last year's smash hit Amores perros, director Gerardo Tort's first feature may be more aptly likened to Victor Gaviria's 1998 La vendedora de rosas or a 21st-century version of Luis Buñuel's classic Los olvidados. Like La vendedora and Los olvidados, Streeters provides a jarring introduction to the world of street kids, in this case under the aegis of two teen lovers and their respective predicaments. Adults – whether self-interested parents, corrupt and sadistic cops, or vicious small-time hustlers – represent exploitation and abuse. The young outcasts find more safety and kinship in underground sewage tunnels than at home. And death, both physical (through drug abuse or violence) and spiritual (by way of arrested innocence and shattered dreams), is a reality of everyday life. Streeters's immediate popular acclaim in its native Mexico was well earned. A top contender among Mexico's new wave of cinema, the film does a commendable job of representing the human consequences of social disintegration brought about by generations of poverty and corruption – and its effects on society's most vulnerable members. 10 p.m., Kabuki. Also Wed/24, 1:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Taiara)

Teknolust (Lynn Hershman Leeson, USA) Artist Lynn Hershman Leeson's candy-colored, filmed-in-S.F. second feature is a wacky, biotech romp through physical and cultural codes – be they DNA, computer software, or the behavioral blueprints of movie classics. It's a Tilda Swinton-fest in which the actor plays a hairstyle-challenged coding genius and three more-glamorous, color-coordinated clones of herself, characters who communicate via microwave oven and escape their virtual world to procure their diet of semen tea – and spread a mysterious virus to unlikely barflies (including Josh Kornbluth). Falling into some oddly compelling, sometimes rocky category between art film and popular genres, Teknolust is uneven but buoyed by sleek special effects that delightfully update the Patty Duke double; a daffy narrative that includes Karen Black playing a character named, of all things, Dirty Dick; and of course, all that Tilda. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/30, 9:15 p.m., Park. (Glen Helfand)

Tues/23

Daughter from Danang (Gail Dolgin and Vicente Franco, USA) The first war to be fought in America's living room TV sets is still being dissected there, where archival footage is showing one era's proudest moments to be another era's sickest jokes. Mining the libraries of the major networks, Bay Area filmmakers Gail Dolgin and Vicente Franco came up with the goods, evidence of American imperialistic hubris at work, through footage of "Operation Babylift," Gerald Ford's 1975 P.R. move to put a happy face on the sinister end of the Vietnam War. Orphaned Vietnamese children were supposedly being "rescued" by this effort, but many of the children weren't orphans – their parents had been coerced into sending them away. Dolgin and Franco's surprising doc intercuts old newscasts with the present-time story of one of those children – Heidi Bub, now a fully assimilated American living in the South with her military husband – going on a trip to reunite with her birth mom. The trip across cultures and through time turns out to be studded with land mines, leaving viewers knee-deep in emotional wreckage. The film played the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival and won the Grand Jury Prize in Documentary at Sundance this year. 10 a.m., Kabuki. Also Wed/24, 7:15 p.m., Kabuki; Tues/30, 1:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Susan Gerhard)

Karmen Geï (Joseph Gaï Ramaka, Senegal/France/Canada) A joyous burst of sheer energy, this Senegalese update of the opera Carmen has bisexual Karmen (the spectacularly self-assured Djeïnaba Diop Gaï) as a charismatic semicriminal adventurer in modern-day Dakar. Racking up conquests hither and yon, she eventually meets the traditional fate at one jealous suitor's hands. But this production is so vividly alive to Karmen's own unrepentant joie de vivre that the "upright" citizen's grudge seems more unjust than ever. Deliciously costumed, designed, scored, and choreographed, the quasi musical loses some steam as its narrative grows more somber. Still, this is one of the most purely enjoyable features to come out of Africa in years. 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Thurs/25, 4 p.m., Kabuki; Tues/30, 9:45 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Harvey)

I'm Going Home (Manoel de Oliveira, Portugal/France) Ninety-plus years and going strong, Manoel de Oliveira flexes his muscles with a film that may be the best thing you'll see in the festival this year. When aging acting legend Gilbert Valence (Michel Piccoli, in perfect pitch) learns shortly after a stage performance that most of his family has been killed in a car accident – except for the six-year-old grandson who's now in his care – life as he knows it comes to a rolling stop. De Oliveira follows the deceleration by filming the man through murky glass, with muted sound, and captures better than any film in memory the mute quality of true sadness. The contrast between what the child needs and what his grandfather can supply is only one heartbreak among many small moments. When Valence's grief is interrupted by career pressure – he's persuaded to take on the role of Buck Mulligan in James Joyce's Ulysses, being filmed by an iconic U.S. film director (John Malkovich) – de Oliveira finally forces the issue, and you feel the impact like a head-on collision. 7:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Fri/26, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki; Wed/1, 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Gerhard)

Wed/24

Swimming with Sharks (George Huang, USA) Before Oscar made him into an unlikely (and still unproved, given the likes of Pay It Forward, K-Pax, and The Shipping News) A-list star, Kevin Spacey was the reliable king of indie sarcasm. Swimming with Sharks is probably the apex of that prior, probably more suitable career, if not necessarily his best film. Spacey plays a toxically mean and duplicitous Hollywood executive who finally pushes the latest of many abused personal assistants (Frank Whaley) too far; he's held bound and (occasionally) gagged while the erstwhile P.A. mulls revenge possibilities. Directed by George Huang, the movie brings nothing new to its familiarly black-comedic view of the Biz. But Spacey (who coproduced) is so consummately venal, he makes it worth seeing anyway. Plays as part of "Kevin Spacey: Peter J. Owens Award." 7 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

25 Watts (Juan Pablo Rebella and Pablo Stoll, Uruguay) Stranger than paradise, Montevideo, Uruguay, also comes across as a carefree, trebly relative of Slacker's Austin, Texas, in this sun-bleached black-and-white first feature. Directors Juan Pablo Rebella and Pablo Stoll specialize in cockeyed points of view, some casually literal – shots aimed between the open knees of three sit-around stooges – some genuinely inventive. Professional loiterer Leche (Daniel Hendler) walks off a convenience-store monitor into the rest of the frame; after a foiled romantic phone call, his reflection drowns in a glass of water. Akin to its lead trio, 25 Watts doesn't have to work hard or look far to find laughs – at home, Leche's zombie grandma is moved around like a useless piece of furniture, and Erik Estrada pitches diet powder on pirated cable. 6:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Fri/26, 2 p.m., Kabuki; Sat/27, 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Huston)

Thurs/25

Stalin: Red God (Frederick Baker, United Kingdom/Austria) Nearly a half century after Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev denounced him and (in a pattern Khrushchev's predecessor had perfected) erased his visage from the national landscape, a crowd of Georgians in Joseph Stalin's hometown of Tiflis resurrect an enormous statue of the fallen dictator from an unceremonious grave. It's an apt image for a film more concerned with the construction of a myth than with the biography of a man. In a quirky and haphazard style that greatly benefits from a brilliant soundtrack, filmmaker Frederick Baker uses archival footage, rare sound recordings, and contemporary interviews (including one with Stalin's grandson) to explore the tenacity of Stalin's hold on the imagination of the former Soviet Union. The film's thesis – that Stalin achieved his godlike status by appropriating the aura of the repressed Russian Orthodox Church – is oversimplification at best, but it reflects something of Stalin's genius for reinventing himself. The film's real strength lies not in its historical excavations (where it digs no deeper than those Georgian statue-snatchers) but in its ability to add an idiosyncratic, personal dimension to a complex and bizarre social phenomenon. And if the analysis of Stalin worship is superficial, the phenomenon itself certainly bears consideration, especially as it continues to this day not just in Tiflis but also on the streets of Moscow. Plays with "Copy Shop." 5:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sun/28, 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. (Avila)

Fri/26

Cherish (Finn Taylor, USA) Berkeley-based Finn Taylor's first film since the great Dream with the Fishes is a more contrived indie comedy that both cleverly subverts and remains ultimately limited by its claustrophobic premise. Abducted at gunpoint in her car by a masked assailant one drunken night, S.F. digital animator and terminal wallflower Zoe (Robin Tunney) then finds herself up for vehicular manslaughter – and no one believes her story, since the masked man has disappeared without a trace. Confined to a Mission Street flat via electronic "bracelet" device until her trial date, Zoe works on self-improvement (going from geekdom to babedom en route) and social skills while trying to clear her name. The pic's delightful setup – sparked in part by the sly turns of Jason Priestley and Liz Phair as glib coworkers – promises more than the eventually predictable, then improbable plot delivers. Nonetheless, good performances (including Tim Blake Nelson's as Zoe's police custodian) and a cheerfully polished presentation make Cherish easy to take. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Wed/1, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

In Praise of Love (Jean-Luc Godard, Switzerland/France) Touted as a "return to form," Jean-Luc Godard's latest will disappoint anyone expecting youthful energy: this film may have the 60s blues, but in this case "60s" refers to Godard's age, not the 20th century's. Death is no longer offhandedly depicted – it's pondered in tones of dread. He may return to the streets of Paris, but he still privileges philosophy over narrative: Balzac, Bresson, Weil, and Hugo aid him in building a convoluted, curmudgeonly mental maze. Technology is accused of erasing history, Steven Spielberg is charged with exploiting Schindler's widow, and America's titanic beauty is attacked for being nameless and amnesiac. As dreamlike cinematography shifts from black and white to color, the question "What is an adult?" is repeatedly asked. Though the clock seems to be winding down, an answer never arrives. 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Sun/28, 9:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

The Ruination of Men (Arturo Ripstein, Mexico/Spain) Filmmaker Arturo Ripstein has plumbed the depths of some sad, sordid grotesqueries in his day, but he may have outdone himself with this Beckett-gone-rancid absurdist yelp. Two men set upon a third and murder him with a rock. Later one of the killers transports the cadaver back home, where the deceased's wife breaks his legs and forces him to suck her toes (Ripstein's early tenure with Luis Buñuel obviously left quite an impression). Then a flashback connects the dots between characters, various inanimate objects, and one bad game of baseball. Given the title, taken from a traditional Mexican lyric – "The ruination of men / Is damned women!" – it's tempting to peg this as one blistering look at cultural machismo. In Ripstein's hands, however, this acidic satire refuses to simply indict a gender when hypocrisy, hubris, and curdled dreams are also vying for MVP in the divine black comedy known as life. 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Sun/28, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki; Tues/30, 7 p.m., Park. (Fear)

Smokers Only (Veronica Chen, Argentina) Like its female lead, Smokers Only takes itself way too seriously, and like its male lead, it is way too in love with itself. "You sing kinda weird sometimes," a Portishead-damaged bandmate tells Reni (Cecilia Bengolea), when in fact she sings kinda terribly all the time. Unfortunately, Reni's arty angst has found a foolish reason to exist: she's in love with a smirking pretty-boy hustler who – offering the sexual equivalent of fast food – puts the "ass-to-mouth" in ATM. If you have a craving for posed sex scenes involving "people" who keep their designer underwear on, Chen's debut is for you. Otherwise, its experimental pretension (wow, neon light can be blurred!) moves slow and wears thin fast. 10 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sat/27, 4 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

War and Peace (Anand Patwardhan, India) Anand Patwardhan's impressive and impassioned documentary digs beneath the patriotic fervor that followed the nuclear tests conducted by India and Pakistan in 1998, revealing the essentially political nature of nuclear proliferation and the divisions in Indian society it both cloaks and fosters. A wide-ranging look at the issue of nuclear nationalism, the film features extensive news footage and a well-rounded series of interviews with government officials, nuclear scientists, pro- and antinuclear activists, and ordinary citizens, including the poor who suffer without recourse the brunt of nuclear testing and uranium mining. ("The government is like a mother," one old man says, shrugging. "If the mother decides to feed poison to her child, what is the child to do?") In their promotion of nuclear weaponry, the logic of international prestige and the global arms trade suffuse the very concept of security with Orwellian irony. At the same time, the film moves beyond India's borders to Pakistan, Japan, and the United States to understand efforts to transcend nuclear world politics by building an international movement for peace. 7:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sat/27, 11:30 a.m., Kabuki; Sun/28, 2:30 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Avila)

Warm Water under a Red Bridge (Shohei Imamura, Japan/France) Shohei Imamura's scatalogical sense of humor gets full display in this fable of a mystical seaside baker (Misa Shimizu, Dr. Akagi, etc.) who unleashes a literal geyser from her loins every time she gets hot. Her eventual paramour (Koji Yakusho, Shall We Dance? stud and Kiyoshi Kurosawa regular) is a man whose first interest in her is the "treasure" supposedly buried somewhere in her vicinity. Many other surprises await him, however. Bring an umbrella: whether you want to elevate her to metaphor and mermaid status or are happy to settle with spectacular female ejaculation, Imamura intends you to leave physically and mentally aroused. 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sat/27, 1 p.m., Kabuki. (Gerhard)

Sat/27

All about Lily Chou-Chou (Shunji Iwai, Japan) What a fantastic year it's been in Japanese cinema, what with inspired and inspiring new films and filmmakers seemingly being discovered every other week. Shunji Iwai, however, is not one of them – he's been making treacly, incomprehensible TV shows, rock videos, and (film festival-unwelcome) feature films for more than a decade now. Breaking no new ground – other than attaining a fluke play date at the New York Film Festival last fall – his new but predictably turgid teensploitation monolith concerns an assortment of fans drawn to a Web site devoted to the film's titular, mythologized rock chanteuse. A blame-the-victim study of high school simps, bullies, and rapists, this directionless mess is meant to appeal to ... who? 6 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sun/28, 3:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Stephens)

Derrida (Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering Kofman, USA/France) "Deconstruction is not a sitcom," Jacques "Jackie" Derrida sternly tells a foolish, flinching TV interviewer who likens his practice to Jerry Seinfeld's. But this doc proves Derrida isn't a cold machine; he's a man with an ordinary sense of humor and a profound sense of melancholy. Passages from his books receive precious, earnest recitations by a narrator. Derrida himself speaks and thinks with practical clarity. When the directors closely scrutinize the philosopher as he butters a breakfast muffin at home, Derrida says, "This is what you call cinéma vérité? Everything is false. [Normally] I don't get dressed, I stay in my pajamas and bathrobe." Derrida trivia: he has some Anne Rice books, but he hasn't read them. Favorite unintentionally funny quote: "I've written a lot about my mother's kidney stone." 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sun/28, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

Dogtown and Z-Boys (Stacy Peralta, USA) A gold mine of original late-'70s footage brings immediacy to this documentary flashback, which profiles the famed skateboarding crew that revolutionized the then-moribund sport from a home base of ultraseedy L.A. between Venice Beach and Santa Monica. It's a fast-rise, sharp-drop (for some) chronicle that fascinates, even if former Z-Boy Stacy Peralta's treatment doesn't boast all the right moves. Dramatic, occasionally tragic personal stories are too quickly etched, while the boarding reels – great as they are – go on and on to repetitious effect. If you're an extreme-sports buff, this'll be manna; if not, Dogtown's shortcomings as a social-cultural document will make its 90 minutes seem longer. Midnight, Kabuki. Also Wed/1, 1 and 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Fulltime Killer (Johnnie To and Wai Ka-fai, Hong Kong) Since 1997 or so, Johnnie To and Wai Ka-fai have been making whip-smart films in a dead-end genre. Previous works by the pair (The Mission, Running Out of Time) came chock-full of dueling homoerotic hit men and haggard cops drawn into uneasy alliances with their prey – in short, the gamut of John Woo's old-school Hong Kong gunplay clichés. Now they're broadening the palate to include allusions to Point Break and Alain Delon (as well as referring occasionally to their own filmography) with Fulltime Killer, which plays like a unabashed love letter to international action cinema. Hunky Andy Lau is an epileptic, movie-quoting professional killer trapped in a long-standing rivalry with Takashi Sorimachi. Video-store clerk Kelly Lin gets involved with both parties while a hilariously unhinged Simon Yam hunts the bad boys down, only to wind up chronicling their story with a typewriter and nervous tics. To and Wai never make the material entirely fresh again, but their self-deprecating tweaks and insidious quirks keep the fun and entertainment factors on the high end of the scale. 2 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sun/28, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Macias)

Me Without You (Sandra Goldbacher, United Kingdom) Brash, pretty Marina (Anna Friel) and frumpy brainiac Holly (Michelle Williams) are two English girls whose decades-long bond is tested by romantic obsessions, shared lovers, and embarrassing fashion faux pas of the '70s and '80s. Most films dealing with female friendships tend to retread the same old Beaches territory, but this warts-and-all take overcomes the soap opera aspects thanks to a deft touch and a grounded performance by Williams. The decision of director Sandra Goldbacher (The Governess) to downplay easy targets in favor of exploring the relationship's codependent, competitive nature saves the movie from mass Oprah-fication, mixing in more than enough bitter to downplay the material's brittle sweetness. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/30, 3:45 p.m., Kabuki. (Fear)

Tribute (Kris Curry and Rich Fox, USA) Anyone requiring proof that the subculture of professional tribute bands deserves more than Wahlbergian star-vehicle status? Here's Exhibit A: Tribute, Kris Curry and Rich Fox's funny, frightening, and fascinating look at four bands (Queen imitators Sheer Heart Attack, Kiss wanna-bes Larger than Life, a small-town Judas Priest cover group, and some feuding Monkees devotees) vying for "next best thing" status. Like many post-American Movie documentaries, the film invites both mockery and sympathy for those who want to turn fantasy, fandom, and the sincerest form of flattery into semi-stardom; you're never sure whether to laugh at the incredible (and often incompetent) devotion to re-creation on display or admire the subjects' indomitable pluck. Thanks to Fox and Curry's deft touch, even Tribute's moments of ridicule mine emotional pay dirt. 4:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/30, 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. (Fear)

Truly Human (Ake Sandgren, Denmark) Another unvarnished entry from the Dogma camp, Truly Human explores the weirdness that occurs when Lisa, a young daughter to busy, stressed-out parents, dies suddenly and her heretofore imaginary friend emerges into the world in the form of an awkward, socially inept teenager. Etiquette foibles and childlike incomprehension of basic skills (brushing teeth, drinking from a glass) give way to unsettling moments born of the young man's complete ignorance of social mores – most, like the scene in which he jumps into a swimming pool full of kids, buck-naked, lead a variety of people in his Copenhagen hood to think him a rampant child molester. Though the wayward lad has clearly been sent to soothe Lisa's grieving parents, the film's many scenes of tragic misunderstandings make the road to recovery one that's uncomfortable to watch. 4:45 p.m., New PFA Theater. Also Mon/29, 9:45 p.m., Kabuki; Wed/1, 7 p.m., Park. (Eddy)

Van Van, Let's Party (Liliana Mazure and Aaron Vega, Argentina/Cuba) Liliana Mazure and Aaron Vega's tribute to the venerable Cuban salsa group Los Van Van (still going strong after 32 years) will probably indulge fans more than it will charm the uninitiated, lacking the charismatic stories that made Wim Wenders's resuscitation of the Buena Vista Social Club so wildly successful. But the story of the inimitable Van Van's influence on the music and culture of Cuba intrigues all the same, if for reasons that lie somewhat beyond the group itself. After leaping into the personalities behind Cuba's most successful band, from influential founder and director Juan Formell to recent recruit Mario "Mayito" Rivera, the filmmakers broaden their focus to include an enticing if underdeveloped account of Los Van Van's origins in an eclectic popular music rebellion against top-down cultural programming, and the group's complicated role – as the object of Miami protests one day and Grammy awards the next – in the cultural politics of Cuba-U.S. relations. 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/29, 10 a.m., Kabuki; Tues/30, 4:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Avila)

Sun/28

The Diaries of Vaslav Nijinsky (Paul Cox, Australia) Australian art-house eccentric Paul Cox is probably best known for Vincent, his gracefully straightforward look at Van Gogh's life and art. Coming from the opposite end of the accessibility scale is this latest effort, a stultifying experimental biography that throws together opaque staged sequences and brain-damaged prattlings from the great, mad Russian dancer-choreographer Nijinsky. The latter passages (read by Sir Derek Jacobi) prove that not all genius is verbal and not all madmen speak truth. The film seems convinced otherwise, however. That aspect might be forgivable if the film managed to evoke its subject's legacy in visual terms, but the dance excerpts (taken from Afternoon of a Faun, Jeux, and other famed ballets) are for the most part all too brief, and the other sequences are leaden with whimsy or pallid mimetic acting. This is a sad missed opportunity and a nearly unwatchable fiasco. 3:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/29, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Failan (Song Hye-Sung, South Korea) Grab a box of tissues – this two-fisted Korean melodrama is out to make sure you use all of them. A two-bit gangster (Shiri's Choi Min-Shik) hastily weds a waiflike Chinese immigrant in need of immigration papers (Cecelia Cheung, trying her best to be mistaken for Maggie Cheung) for the money. Tragically, she dies before he even meets her, and he goes through a profound psychological transformation while sifting through the pieces of her short, sad life. This would be a textbook weepy date movie if not for the jarring hot-blooded gangland beatdowns that occur every five minutes during the first half. As it stands, imagine if Mean Streets morphed into Sweet November. If the mood swings feel too jarring, or the drawn-out finale too manipulative, there is still much pleasure to be had as Song Hye-Sung's direction beautifully captures the detritus of Asian city life and the slightly more pastoral day-to-day grind of a windswept coastal town. 6:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/29, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Macias)

Hell House (George Ratliff, USA) "Abortion girl! Whoo! Got it!" says a blond cheerleader. She's elated to be cast as a sinner headed for a date with Satan, and the director of the lucrative "theater" where she'll be performing just happens to be her father. This doc watches – from start to finish – an annual event in Cedar Hill, Texas, put on by the Trinity Church: a haunted house where the horrors are drunk driving, school shooting, raver rape, and of course, homo-sax-y'all-ity. A Jack Chick tract come to life, Hell House is loaded with thudding ironies: a teen girl says "not having sex was drilled into me," and all the Christian thespians – especially the "rave DJ" – zealously enact the transgressions they're condemning. A more subtle irony: the film's subjects have better production values and technical skill than the filmmakers. Nevertheless, Hell House is grimly comic and Southern Gothic. 7:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/30, 1 p.m., Kabuki; Wed/1, 10 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

'The Subconscious Art of Graffiti Removal' (Matt McCormick, USA) Alternately maddening and amusing, this short posits graffiti removal – the act of painting over graffiti – as "one of the more progressive and intriguing art movements of the 21st century." Intriguing? Yes. Progressive? No. Miranda July supplies mock narration as director Matt McCormick cuts from the abstract expressionism of Mark Rothko paintings to look-alike blocks of colors on the sides of buildings and trucks: a contemporary update of Invocation of My Demon Brother's looped Mick Jagger Moog score is paired with fixed views of a solitary cyclist passing "densely layered free-floating shapes" on Portland's southeast side, "a hotspot of the movement." McCormick seems uninterested in the voices and visions being erased, but this complaint is too obvious. He favors wry detachment, using interview snippets to reveal the artistic desires of politicians and government officials, who hire employees to enforce their vision. Plays with Rivers and Tides. 1:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Thurs/2, 7:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

Mon/29

A Chronicle of Corpses (Andrew Repasky McElhinney, USA) A prime contender for the fest's weirdest film, 23-year-old Andrew Repasky McElhinney's third low-budget feature fuses Andy Milligan's incestuous, murderous historical horror to a near-silent, restrained classicism that definitely isn't Milligan-like and that might belong to McElhinney alone. The lyrics of Stephin Merritt seem perky in comparison to the doom-laden, intentionally stilted religious soliloquies this writer-director crafts for a once-wealthy family isolated on a decaying plantation. Slowly and showily tracking through oppressive, humid exteriors and dark, shadowed interiors, Chronicle isn't bloody in the literal sense, but midway through, when one bald character suddenly dispatches another, the image is shocking and memorable. 4:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/30, 9:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

The Pinochet Case (Patricio Guzmán, France/Spain/Belgium) Chile's Sept. 11 happened in 1973. On that day a group of conspirators murdered the country's democratically elected president, Salvador Allende, and replaced Chile's democracy with a murderous 17-year military dictatorship under Gen. Augusto Pinochet, all courtesy of the CIA and the Nixon administration. Purely by coincidence, Patricio Guzmán, a Chilean filmmaker exiled after 1973, was in Madrid 25 years later when, at the request of a Spanish court, Pinochet was arrested in London for crimes against humanity. The unprecedented legal case against Pinochet had started two years earlier among a small group of Madrid lawyers, but it inevitably built on the painstaking work of hundreds of Chileans and human rights workers who had documented the crimes of the dictatorship. Firsthand accounts by several of these people, including survivors of state-sponsored torture, lend a profound authenticity to filmmaker Guzmán's powerful account of the series of events leading up to Pinochet's arrest, as well as the ensuing legal and political tug-of-war in English and Chilean courtrooms. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/30, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki; Wed/1, 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Avila)

Tues/30

Go (Isao Yukisada, Japan/South Korea) The blood- and tear-drenched Failan's split personality is rivaled by Isao Yukisada's Go, which blazes through slapstick action-flick violence before its wise ass is kicked by weepy melodrama. As in Failan, the tonal shift accompanies a protagonist whose masculinity gets a feminine education. Go's treatment of Japanese and South Korean cultural conflict is simplified into coming-of-age terms via lead character Sugihara (Yosuke Kubozuka). Yukisada worked under Shunji Iwai, but if he shares Iwai's poor (overlong) pacing, he also has Iwai's flash, and he isn't quite as careless in terms of style, or as indulgent and humorless about teen narcissism. 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also Thurs/2, 9:15 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Huston)

One Take Only (Oxide Pang, Thailand) Clearly the worst film of the recent renaissance in Thai cinema, Bangkok Dangerous codirector Oxide Pang's solo feature debut finds inspiration in the sweetest, kindest, most humane teenage-schoolgirl prostitute in the City of Angels – then has her gunned down so that her meth addict boyfriend can live. That's the entire through line of the film. Deeply insulting to women and other living things, Pang's low-budget, no-talent film is slicked up with nauseating visual effects and a palsied cutting style, all of it lifted from much better movies from myriad points 'round the globe. Had this SFIFF programming disgrace been titled One Idea Only it would still have seemed overdescribed. 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Thurs/2, 7 p.m., Kabuki. (Stephens)

Wed/1

Delbaran (Abolfazl Jalili, Iran/Japan) Delbaran, a small desert town in Iran not far from Afghanistan, is the setting of this artful and unsentimental tale of a 14-year-old Afghan refugee named Kaim, who works for the proprietor of a remote roadside café and service station. The spare landscape – peopled only by the occasional traveler, smuggler, or opium smoker – reflects the remoteness of a childhood lived among adults with little familial affection. As war rages only a few miles away, the local policeman's hunt for illegal Afghan workers presents only the most immediate danger for Kaim. Written and directed by veteran filmmaker Abolfazl Jalili, the film, in its compositional quality, naturalism, and expert use of nonprofessional actors, brings to mind Abbas Kiarostami's work, while the subject matter reflects the concerns of other recent Iranian films, especially Mohsen Makhmalbaf's Kandahar and Bahman Ghobadi's A Time for Drunken Horses. 9:15 p.m., Castro. Also Thurs/2, 7 p.m., New PFA Theater. (Avila)