April 23, 2003

THE SECOND WEEK of the San Francisco International Film Festival carries on at the same scary pace as the first, and Bay Guardian critics – Kimberly Chun, Cheryl Eddy, David Fear, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Laura Irvine, B. Ruby Rich, Camille T. Taiara, and Jennifer Young – are here to help, with picks and pans of the fest's remaining films. Please see box, page 50, for venue and ticket information.

Thursday, April 24

girlhood (Liz Garbus, USA, 2002) Forget Girl, Interrupted – Shanae and Megan, both doing time in the high-security unit of a Maryland juvenile facility, are teens who barely had the chance to get anywhere in the first place. The film follows each girl's progress (and setbacks) over three years, including their difficult transitions back into society. Megan, a remarkably perceptive 16-year-old runaway, venerates her oft-imprisoned mother until the two are reunited; painful memories and unrealistic expectations for family happiness bring forth many a screaming match. More inspiring is Shanae – a murderer at 12 after stabbing a former friend during a fight – who progresses from being a confused, seemingly remorseless blank of a person to becoming a successful high school student who thrives even when she's faced with a family tragedy. 7:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/28, 1 and 4:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Cheryl Eddy)

La turbulence des fluides (Manon Briand, Canada/France, 2002) Anyone lucky enough to have seen Manon Briand's Two Seconds will be back for her second feature, La turbulence des fluides, an intriguing tale of tide flow, earthquakes, and the human heart. Pascale Bussières is as compulsively watchable as ever in the role of a seismologist sent back to her hometown to investigate why the tides have stopped flowing. There to greet her is an attractive woman news photographer from her past, still nursing a serious crush. Other enigmas revolve around a popular local pilot, whose name is missing from all of the phone books in town, just as his wife is missing and presumed drowned. Water, destiny, desire. Loss, return, redemption. Briand lets her film float between science fiction and love story, lighter than air and subtler than most films, teasing us with ambiguities until its puzzle can finally be decoded. Lovely and amazing. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also Mon/28, 9:45 p.m., CineArts. (B. Ruby Rich)

Waiting for Happiness (Abderrahmane Sissako, Mauritania/France, 2002) A film to take the breath away and stop the heart in its tracks, this lyric masterpiece from Mauritania shapes the seemingly empty moments of daily life into a sort of cinematic poem on time, mortality, and the ties that bind mere mortals to one another. Its narrative has a distinctive energy, determined less by psychology than by subjective experience – of the characters, the filmmaker, and not least the audience – and a stripped-down visual aesthetic that turns beauty hypnotic. The next time Gus Van Sant decides to make a desert film, here's the inspiration. In this one, of course, there's no Affleck, no Damon, just a boy who dreams of light bulbs and a visitor who dreams of getting out again. Debuting at the festival before opening at the Roxie Cinema later this spring, Waiting for Happiness makes it obvious that Abderrahmane Sissako is a major talent. If you see only a single African film in your life, make it this one. 7 p.m., Kabuki. Also Sat/26, 7 p.m., PFA. (Rich)

Friday, April 25

Gabriel Orozco (Juan Carlos Martín, Mexico, 2002) If ever there was a genre that deserved to be put out of its misery and locked in a dungeon for all eternity, it's the one dealing with making art. Never has there been a decent film in this category – until, that is, a young Mexican director decided to focus his camera on his good friend the internationally recognized conceptual artist Gabriel Orozco. What Juan Carlos Martín has pulled off is remarkable: an adrenalized documentary that jumps from video to film with a wipe and a jump, hacking the viewer into the mind of the artist as though that leap of imagination were as easy as sliding down a portal from floor seven and a half. Orozco makes an ideal subject. He's easy on the eyes, and he performs every minute, making art 24-7, even packing up the sand and detritus of his favorite beach to ship off to a European gallery, where it's all reassembled and called, you guessed it, art. Orozco's contagious glee in reshaping the world around him is heady stuff and nearly makes up for all of those dreary biopics of paint drying. 4:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also April 30, 9:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Rich)

Nada + (Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti, Cuba/Spain/France/Italy, 2001) It's been years since Cuban cinema was at the top of its game, but Nada + just may land it back in the game. First-time filmmaker Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti studied with Fernando Birri (last year's SFIFF Golden Gate Persistence of Vision award honoree) at Cuba's film school but seems equally influenced by Vera Chytilova's Daisies and other Prague Spring comedies. Nada + hops from a whimsical mix of black-and-white and color footage through scratched-on special effects and abrupt transitions. It also has roots in the Latin American archetype of the busybody scribe with a heart of gold. Heroine Carla is a post office clerk who goes postal, stealing letters to rewrite them, and, with the help of a handsome young mail carrier, aims to help the humble correspondents realize their dreams. Her adversary is a fierce post office functionary diabolically impersonated by ... Daisy Granados, the femme fatale of Memories of Underdevelopment, who hams it up as a Stalinist foe of romantic subversives. More Marx Brothers than Marx, Cremata Malberti's zappy style has already turned this slight amusement into a festival favorite. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also April 30, 10 p.m., Kabuki. (Rich)

Saturday, April 26

The Best of Times (Chang Tso-chi, Taiwan, 2002) Nineteen-year-old Wei (Wing Fan) is a nightclub parking attendant. His best friend, Jie (Gao Meng-jie), is a slacker obsessed with magic tricks. Through Wei's connections, both lads get work as debt collectors for a local gangster. While Wei views the promotion with apprehension, Jie uses his position to procure a cocky attitude and a loaded gun – two things that ensure the film's title will go from whimsical to ironic by the last reel. Directed by Chang Tso-chi (Darkness and Light), this deadpan take on an H.K. triad plot comes lightly braised with dysfunctional domesticity and a preference for static, stoic compositions that will inevitably invoke comparisons to his compatriot Tsai Ming-liang's languorous opuses. Any stylistic similarities, coincidental or otherwise, slowly melt away as the film progresses, and by the time the flamenco-flavored score plays over the film's climactic water ballet, the feeling that an incredibly original vision is at work becomes nearly overwhelming. 10 a.m., Kabuki. Also April 30, 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. (David Fear)

The Eye (Danny and Oxide Pang, Hong Kong/Thailand/U.K., 2002) This is a crowd pleaser. Twin-brother directors Danny and Oxide Pang have efficiently combined the atmosphere and symbolism of recent Japanese horror with the near mechanical heroics found in Hollywood's summer blockbusters. Specifically, The Eye duplicates the ghostly elevator rides of Ring director Hideo Nakata's Dark Water; also, the Sept. 11-like finale is an inverted version of the apocalypse in Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Kairo, trading Kurosawa's bleak philosophical prophecy for crass sentiment. A shame but not a surprise, then, that those superior titles remain obscure while The Eye is set for a U.S. remake. If you like what you see here, you should seek out the Nakata and Kurosawa movies at Le Video. Midnight, Kabuki. Also Mon/28, 4 p.m., Kabuki. (Johnny Ray Huston)

Friday Night (Claire Denis, France, 2002) It would take a large essay to advance the thesis that Claire Denis is one of the most overrated directors of the past two decades. So let's just say Friday Night is surprisingly charming and crush-worthy, despite or perhaps because of the slight, Eurotrashy subject matter. Its story of a one-night affair is practically a parody of an American's stereotypical view of French film romance. Agnès Godard's cinematography and Dickson Hinchcliffe's score do all the talking for the film's lovers – in fact, theirs is the true love story. He answers her luminous visual beauty (nighttime Parisian skyline still lifes; streetlights reflected in raindrops; a morning-after glimpse that overtly recreates a Nan Goldin photo) with music that moves from nervous, pizzicato flirtation to glowing, sonorous exhilaration. The date movie of this year's fest. 7:30 p.m., Kabuki. Also May 1, 8 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

Hukkle (György Pálfi, Hungary, 2002) György Pálfi's first feature has no dialogue, yet it's hardly a "silent" movie – from dawn to dusk the Hungarian farming village examined here emits a symphony of sounds, from those created by flora and fauna to the clatter of the burg's few extant industries, not to mention the nonstop hiccuping of one very old man. The color photography, too, finds moments of lyrical rapture in the simplest habits and occurrences. Hukkle isn't really a poetic paean to the "simple life," however. Buried beneath its enigmatic surface (so far beneath, in fact, that it came as a total surprise to me when someone explained it afterward) is a darkly humorous, even murderous narrative theme, one just barely hinted at in the faintly absurd, deadpan laughs to be found on its surface. Repeat viewings might be called for. In any case this tantalizing oddity is for sure worth seeing once. 3:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also April 30, 7 p.m., PFA. (Dennis Harvey)

Piedras (Ramón Salazar, Spain, 2002) It's oddly fitting that in the same year that Robert Altman gets a Lifetime Achievement award, viewers also get to see how far his influence has spread with this exceptional Altmanesque portmanteau from Spain. A mentally challenged girl becomes infatuated with the nursing student who cares for her. A whorehouse's madam takes up with a tango-loving client. A shoe-store sales girl self-destructively pines for her lost boyfriend, while a wealthy housewife vents about her loveless marriage to her podiatrist. Across town a taxi-driving widow watches helplessly as her addict stepdaughter spirals downward. What initially appear to be unrelated stories eventually reverberate off each other in complex ways, and it's to neophyte director Ramón Salazar's credit that the film's delicate juggling of narratives gels rather than grates. It's a little rocky in spots, but by the film's end, it seems as if the individual piedras (stones) have come together in a single paved road. 6 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/29, 9:30 p.m., CineArts. (Fear)

Sunday, April 27

Adventures of God (Eliseo Subiela, Argentina, 2000) A man (Pasta Dioguardi) walks out of the ocean into a Marienbad-style hotel where abandoned luggage, chattering bourgeoisie, and herds of passing sheep litter the lobby. He has no idea who he is, though a woman (Flor Sabatella) may know our protagonista's identity. He has no idea what he's done, though two thugs think he may have murdered someone. He has no idea where he's at, though he may be stuck in someone else's, or his own, waking dream. Argentine enfant terrible Eliseo Subiela (Man Facing Southeast) gives viewers the closest thing to a cinematic adaptation of the surrealist manifesto, turning an exquisite-corpse group project into a stew of sex, death, cannibalism, and that ol'-time sacrilege (guess who's conducting card tricks in the parlor?). Enigmatic, disturbing, and gallows-hilarious, it's not for everyone's taste unless, like Subiela, you genuflect before patron saints Buñuel, Borges, and Breton. 3:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Fear)

Girlie (Benjamin Tucek, Czech Republic, 2002) "I love you," protests a puffy loser who's just been dumped. "You'll get over it," cheerfully replies free-spirited teenager Ema (Dorota Nvotová, who looks like a hipper, more mischievous Gwyneth Paltrow). Ema lives in a huge apartment building with her beautiful but sad mother (Jana Hubinská), works in a vintage clothing store, gets a new haircut every few days, and bops around the city in search of happiness ("I want to be in love all the time," she announces). Essentially just a snapshot of a stylish, adventurous girl living in an environment that doesn't exactly lend itself to adventure – well, there's that nightclub featuring weekly country gigs by a group called the Golden Horses – the likable Girlie relies heavily on Nvotová's appeal, which, fortunately, is considerable. 6:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/29, 3:45 p.m., Kabuki; April 30, 7 p.m., CineArts. (Eddy)

A Hidden Life (Suzana Amaral, Brazil, 2001) Suzana Amaral became a legend when, in her 50s and already the mother of nine, she went to New York University film school and made her first feature, The Hour of the Star. Now, 15 years later, Amaral is back with a gentle melodrama (based on a novel by Autran Dourado) that shows again her interest in the outsider who proves to be nobler and more genuine than her betters. In this period tale, beautiful Biela is taken from the farm after her father's death by do-gooder relatives who bring her to town and instruct her in the proper dress and manners befitting a lady. But the lessons barely take, and a romantic setback sends Biela back to basics. While the originality of Amaral's debut is lacking in this follow-up, it has a compelling character and enough nuance to raise it above the made-for-TV genre. 8:45 p.m., Kabuki; Also Tues/29, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Rich)

A Peck on the Cheek (Mani Ratnam, India, 2002) Acclaimed Tamil director Mani Ratnam (Roja, Bombay) and his standard posse, expert cinematographer Ravi K. Chandran and award-winning composer-musician A.R. Rahman, artistically craft a substantial yet accessible work. The film's narrator, a cocky eight-year-old girl named Amudha (P.S. Keerthana), is introduced in an eye-popping dance number in which she tells us that her life, with the exception of a sometimes strict teacher, is perfect. But Amudha's love-filled life is turned upside down when, on her ninth birthday, her parents tell her she is adopted. In search of her birth mother, the determined Amudha leads her supportive adoptive parents to war-torn Sri Lanka, where they are caught up in the escalating civil war. Faced with the brutality of war, Amudha's resolve is tested and her innocence shaken, but eventually her persistence pays off in a heartwarming climax. The film is another in Ratnam's army of antiwar statements packaged as deceptively simple family dramas. It's a visual treat complete with East-West musical numbers, booming DTS sound effects, strong performances, and stunning cinematography. In the end it's all about the love. 8:45 p.m., PFA. Also Tues/29, 10 a.m. and 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Laura Irvine and Jennifer Young)

Sex Is Comedy (Catherine Breillat, France, 2002) Taking a break from double-barrel misanthropy, Breillat is doing some self-parody and image control here, in case you thought Romance was too dour or missed the humor in the rage of Fat Girl. It's no accident that she's cast an actress – Anne Parillaud – best-known for playing a female assassin as herself, or rather, as a director trying to film a sex scene that's remarkably similar to Fat Girl's infamous bedroom sequence. The physical climate may be colder than in that film, but Sex Is Comedy's camaraderie is warmer – apparently a film crew is friendlier, if no less fucked-up, than a family. But how visually distracting is a hard-on? That's the real question the Breillat character faces – that is, when she isn't tossing off semi-profundities about emotion and obscenity, or alternately seducing and mothering two actors through an extensive simulation of anal sex. As visions of absurdity go, Gregoire Colin clowning with a prosthetic penis isn't bad, Still, Sex Is Comedy's payoff offers more than the words in its title. 9:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/29, 4 p.m., Kabuki. (Huston)

Monday, April 28

Drowned Out (Franny Armstrong, India/U.K., 2002) Filmgoers in search of an uplifting story best give Drowned Out a pass – this informative exploration of indigenous people being displaced by a huge dam across India's Narmada River will leave viewers blessed with a sense of right and wrong (i.e., anyone not among Drowned Out's greedy and oblivious industrialists and government planners) outright infuriated. The facts are so flabbergasting – including the pathetic resettlement options offered to the farmers forcefully uprooted from their rural, self-sufficient lives – that it doesn't really matter how the documentary is put together. Fortunately, director Franny Armstrong approaches with sensitivity and includes interviews with folks on both sides of the issue – though her bias, as yours will after seeing this documentary, clearly lies with the people who are being so egregiously wronged. 6:45 p.m., Kabuki. Also April 30, 1 p.m., Kabuki. (Eddy)

Owning Mahowny (Richard Kwietniowski, Canada/U.K., 2002) Gambling, addiction, Vegas – on the surface it sounds like the stuff of great, flashy moviemaking, a return to the decadent thrills, spills, and downhill slides of Leaving Las Vegas, Casino, and Hard Eight. But the bloodless Owning Mahowny puts a stop to that assumption. Dan Mahowny (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is a mild-mannered bank manager by day and an equally straight-faced gambling fiend by night. He begins skimming from his work to play the tables and pay off his betting debts, but his obsession takes over as his colorless girlfriend (Minnie Driver) tries in vain to coax him from the cards. Though director Richard Kwietniowski applies a nice, austere touch to the true-life material, which is based on Gary Ross's book Stung, Owning Mahowny only seems like the latest portrait in the rogue's gallery of pale, hunched thinking-person's losers in which Hoffman specializes. Like the high-rolling Mahowny, Hoffman is a victim of his own success, riding a wave of these acting showcases. Let's hope this elegant yet ultimately sterile film is the last in that streak – for the actor's sake. 7 p.m., Kabuki. Also May 1, 5 p.m., Kabuki. (Kimberly Chun)

Women's Prison (Manijeh Hekmat, Iran, 2002) A box-office hit in Iran, where a heavily censored version played, Women's Prison (the director's cut plays SFIFF) tells the story of two women – warden Tahareh and headstrong midwife Mitra, doing hard time for the murder of her abusive stepfather – through three different political junctures in Iran's recent history (1984, 1992, and 2001). Over 17 years, new inmates shed light on the changing face of criminality, as the film addresses the evolving nature of Iranian society and those it deems criminal: prostitutes and lesbians, political reformists, poor women struggling to survive. In the end Tahareh remains behind while Mitra regains her freedom, perhaps more changed by their relationship than by her convict counterpart. Audiences not well versed in modern Persian history and society are likely to miss out on some of the film's allusions and, possibly, some of the dialogue, as subtitles pass by pretty quickly in parts. But Women's Prison benefits from exceptional acting and background research, making it a refreshingly multilayered film and one of the more worthwhile offerings from Iran this year. 7:15 p.m., Kabuki. Also Tues/29, 1 p.m., Kabuki; May 1, 7 p.m., PFA. (Camille T. Taiara)

Tuesday, April 29

L'auberge espagnole (Cédric Klapisch, France/Spain, 2002) Like a predictably musty, sock-and-jock-scented dorm room, L'auberge espagnole (The Spanish apartment) gives off a strong, familiar whiff, despite its multilingual trappings and the presence of our new Euro Barbie, Audrey Tautou. It must be the collegiate coming-of-age narrative – instead of following a naive American student through Paris, L'auberge espagnole trails a naive Parisian, economics student Xavier (Romain Duris), in Barcelona. Here the innocent receives his life lessons in the E.U. rather than abroad. Xavier, spending a year in Spain to make himself a more marketable, Spanish-fluent export, latches onto a United Nations-like array of flatmates and sexes up a repressed, proper young Frenchwoman (Judith Godrèche). Director Cédric Klapisch (When the Cat's Away) blows much of the dust off this light-as-a-tortilla comedy by putting an offhand, playful visual twist on the proceedings: he circles his protagonist in red with Amélie-ish flourish, fills the edges of the frame with the absurd paperwork that accompanies Xavier's transfer, and includes an ugly Englishman, rather than American, in a film that's as surprisingly savory and soulful as its title's "Euro pudding." 7 p.m., Kabuki. (Chun)

Power Trip (Paul Devlin, Georgia/USA, 2003) Anyone who thinks California has the lock on corrupt power industries might want to check out this documentary on the clusterfuck of politics, piracy, and pig-headed corporations in the post-Soviet free-for-all landscape. After the Republic of Georgia declared its independence, U.S. electricity-distribution company AES bought out the newly minted country's provider, Telasi. It suddenly found itself inheriting networks of illegal service lines, hundreds of unpaid accounts, and a political-favors system that allowed a private factory access to unlimited wattage... for free. So, like any good provider, AES decides to shut down the juice until customers pay up, and that's when the borscht hits the fan. Filmmaker Paul Devlin's microcosmic look at capitalism's bid for scraps amid communism's tattered ruins plays out like an absurdist nightmare, a tale of a wasteland one rolling blackout away from total shutdown. 10:15 a.m., Kabuki. Also April 30, 9:45 p.m., Kabuki. (Fear)

Wednesday, April 30