film

Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Meryl Cohen, David Fear, Dina Gachman, Susan Gerhard, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Patrick Macias, and Chuck Stephens. See Rep Clock and Movie Clock, for theater information. Opening

Beyond Borders Though the poster suggests this film is solely about Angelina Jolie's lips, it also has some stuff in it about relief workers who risk their lives in war-torn areas. (2:07). Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London.

Figures and Loops This new doc by David Regos and Walter Matteson explores the world of artistic roller skating. (1:45). Balboa.

Gasoline While director Monica Stambrini seems to be aiming for a tender love story (based on the Italian novel Benzina), Gasoline plays like an exploitation film. Stella (Maya Sansa) and Lenni (Regina Orioli) are young lesbian lovers and social opposites who operate a gas station and unexpectedly find themselves laden with the corpse of Lenni's haughty and disapproving mother. In order to remain together, they need to get rid of the body. Although the lead actors manage to be quite captivating in spite of the weak writing, the story is implausible and weighs down the film. Stambrini creates a dark and ominous mood befitting a thriller, but the plot is so slow moving and riddled with annoying contrivances that there's no sense of urgency or danger. Gasoline winds up yet another addition to the body-disposal genre. (1:25) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (McCartney)

The Howlin' Wolf Story Some incredible vintage footage – as well as old photographs and contemporary interviews with friends and family – highlight Don McGlynn's affectionate documentary of late blues performer Chester "Howlin' Wolf" Burnett. The film traces the Wolf's journey from rural Mississippi to Memphis to his years with Chicago's Chess Records; along the way he recorded with Sam Phillips at Sun Studios, palled around with other blues greats of the day, and earned the worshipful devotion of big names like the Rolling Stones. It's up to those interviewed (Wolf's daughters especially) to paint a portrait of his quiet, mellow offstage demeanor, but plenty of film and audio – put to good use here – remains of the wild-man side that emerged whenever an audience was present. Unlike some music docs, McGlynn allows entire songs to play out without interrupting, emphasizing Wolf's lasting legacy to both longtime and new fans alike. (1:28) Roxie. (Eddy)

Pieces of April See Movie Clock. (1:20) Act I and II, Embarcadero.

Radio Prolific sports film director Michael Tollin (Summer Catch) clearly has Oscar gold in mind with this overly warm film about tolerance. Though based on a true story, the film is beleaguered by tired stereotypes. Cuba Gooding Jr., undoubtedly hoping for an Academy nod himself, plays James "Radio" Kennedy, a mentally challenged man who is befriended by high school football coach Harold Jones (Ed Harris). Gooding brings much heart to the role, but little can be said for the one-dimensional character; Radio is full of blind optimism and hopeful exuberance, but he completely lacks any sense of negativity. The movie means well, and while this kind of cheerful goodwill in the face of adversity can be uplifting, if done correctly, Radio just feels manipulative. The same story has been told over and over (think The Waterboy – only not funny). Each hurdle thrown in the protagonists' path is an obvious one, right down to the prejudiced white Southerner who just won't accept Radio hanging around his beloved team. The television adverts alone should tell you how this one ends; if you're hankering for some schmaltz, this is your movie. (1:46) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London. (McCartney)

*The Revolution Will Not Be Televised See "Coup Coup". (1:14) Castro.

Scary Movie 3 The spoof-a-thon continues, with a new director (Airplane!'s David Zucker) and an semi-all-star cast (Queen Latifah, Charlie Sheen, Denise Richards, Jenny McCarthy, etc.) taking shots at The Ring, Signs, Matrix Reloaded, 8 Mile, and more. (1:30) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Jack London, Shattuck.

Sylvia See "The Last Plath". (2:02) Clay.

Ongoing

*American Splendor Shari Springer Berman and Roger Pulcini's film grafts the documentary portraiture of Terry Zwigoff's Crumb on the fictional narrative of Zwigoff's Daniel Clowes adaptation, Ghost World, and comes up with something less than either of those great films – but still the best U.S. fictive filmmaking in this summer of bummers. American Splendor travels from vignette to vignette, losing and gaining momentum, rarely mimicking the long interior monologues or abrupt endings of Harvey Pekar's comics. It livens up and finds a purpose with the arrival of Hope Davis's Joyce Brabner – the film's chief strong point is its characterization of her marriage to Pekar (Paul Giamatti). Splendor casually addresses the fact that Pekar's comic is drawn by a variety of artists, allowing characters' appearances to shift from one sequence to another (one minute, Drew Freidman's smudgy daytime nightmares; the next, Joe Zabel's crisp nervous energy). An all-animated version might have imaginatively extended this trait, which simultaneously defines Pekar's portraiture and makes it playfully elusive – even free spirited. (1:41) Embarcadero, Piedmont. (Huston)

*Bubba Ho-tep An uproarious stream of crass consciousness, director Don Coscarelli's irresistible new comedy about withered kings and restless pharaohs made me laugh so hard I almost wished I was wearing diapers while indulging in it, as its cantankerously geriatric heroes probably are. That's because Bubba Ho-tep, which riffs endlessly and ribaldly on an irresistible central conceit – a decrepit Elvis Presley, undead yet barely alive in a Texas rest home, teams up with an equally ancient African American who believes he's John F. Kennedy to battle a wrathful mummy eager to swallow their souls – is just the kind of go-for-broke gut-buster that makes you want to surrender unconditionally and, well, just let go. Coscarelli may not be the most obvious argument for auteur exhumation in highbrow movie circles, but for this reviewer – who, some 20 years ago, repeatedly basked in the glorious excesses of Coscarelli's dazzlingly demented Phantasm – his giddy return to form is an extremely welcome occasion. (1:32) California, Lumiere, Smith Rafael. (Stephens)

Carnage A bullfight is the central event in this everything-is-connected tale from 28-year-old French director Delphine Gleize, who's no doubt seen a Buñuel film or 10. Though the title suggests violence and excitement, Carnage is actually a quiet tale of relationships – mostly on the dysfunctional side, including ones between a quirky mother-son taxidermist team and a hugely pregnant woman and her distant hubby. The various stories are weaved together as the parts of the slain bull are distributed: the struggling actress (Catherine Deneuve's daughter Chiara Mastroianni), dressed in a Spanish señorita costume for a supermarket promotion, is linked to the Great Dane-loving family when she sells them a giant bone, etc. Though Gleize's skill behind the camera is clear – the film is filled with gorgeous, dreamlike images – Carnage suffers from a thin, contrived plot populated with characters hardly as interesting as the parade of animal remains that shape their actions. (2:10) Castro, Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

*Casa de Los Babys In a South American country where the adoption industry flourishes for those who have the money and wherewithal to wait out the months-long bureaucratic process, six women await judgment on their cases, including Nan (Marcia Gay Harden), the quintessential ugly American who believes her money buys her moral superiority; and Skipper (Daryl Hannah), an Amazonian fitness addict running from a traumatic past. Writer-director-independent film icon John Sayles (Sunshine State) returns with another mosaic about that no-man's-land between the personal and the political, setting his sights on the socioeconomic aftershocks these maternal desires leave in their wake. Like many of his quiet epics, Casa de los Babys boasts a multicharacter ensemble, multilayered narratives overlapping in the oddest of ways, and a multicultural slant that questions the psychological toll this capitalistic relationship has on all of its participants. The cast rises to the occasion, yet the filmmaker's usually welcome ambiguity seems a tad too stoic in places here. (1:35) Piedmont, Smith Rafael. (Fear)

*Dirty Pretty Things Stephen Frears (Dangerous Liaisons, The Grifters, High Fidelity) has returned over and over to smaller British projects between Hollywood assignments, notably two Roddy Doyle adaptations (The Snapper, The Van). Dirty Pretty Things is by a newish writer, Steve Knight, and in its tonally very different way it's almost as fresh a take on polyglot London as My Beautiful Laundrette. Things revolves around Okwe (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a Nigerian doctor-exile living a hand-to-mouth life in the U.K. He's illegally working as a cab driver and a night clerk at a boutique hotel run by pragmatically slimy Juan (Sergi Lopez). Likewise employed at the hotel as housekeeping staff is Muslim Turkish Senay (Audrey Tautou), a registered refugee awaiting governmental approval of her immigrant status. Before long, Okwe discovers that the hotel profits from on-site organ harvesting that preys on desperate illegal immigrants. Knight's script doesn't always smooth together its various mystery, suspense, caper, and slice-of-life elements. The dialogue is sometimes too pontificating, and the incipient romance between Okwe and Senay is perhaps the least effective aspect here. But Frears handles it all so beautifully that the end result is still near extraordinary. (1:49) Act I and II, Embarcadero. (Harvey)

*Le Divorce Left by her trustafarian mate, pregnant poet Roxy (Naomi Watts) is visited in Paris by her hungry-for-experience sis Isabel (Kate Hudson), who soon realizes she's clearly not in Santa Barbara anymore. With the help of her sibling and an expat writer (Glenn Close), Isabel cracks the French cultural code embedded in everything from cocktails to fashion, and together the sisters take in the drawing rooms, haute cuisine, silk lingerie, and rococo social convolutions of the Old World. Self-consciously witty, briskly paced, and true to its source, Le Divorce succeeds where other modern-day Merchant Ivory productions have faltered; it captures the follies, foibles, and faux pas that occur as two worlds collide and collude, as well as the soufflé-lite pleasures of the City of Light. (1:55) Galaxy. (Chun)

Dopamine This first, San Francisco-set feature by locals Mark Decena and Timothy Breitbach was nurtured all the way from script development to theatrical distribution by the good folks who bring you the Sundance Film Festival. More than with most films, you can tell the road to release has been long – Dopamine is the latest indie flick that feels like it forgot to update itself from the high dot-com era it was probably conceived in. Rand (John Livingston) is a computer animator-software designer working with friends on an interactive "virtual pet," a cuddly butterfly that coos at you from the screen – just what we all need to fill our empty lives. Testing that product involves invading the elementary-school classroom of Sarah (Sabrina Lloyd). Sarah likes Rand, Rand likes Sarah, but they're both kinda skittish – she's been bruised before, while he thinks love is maybe just a biologically determined chemical reaction (hence the title). These two mopey little ships almost pass each other in the night, and maybe they ought to for habitually misreading each other so badly. It's a kind of emo-rock lonely hearts romantic comedy without much comedy, or sexiness; there's an integrity at work here that just doesn't pay off as much as you'd like it to. (1:24) Balboa. (Harvey)

*Finding Nemo When his beloved son Nemo is whisked from the ocean by a scuba diver, neurotic clown fish Marlin (Albert Brooks) launches a Great Barrier Reef-sized quest to track him down, running into a huge assortment of oceanic perils (sharks, shipwrecks, weird-looking deep-sea fish, seagulls) and pals (notably a forgetful fish named Dory, who, as voiced by Ellen DeGeneres, gets the film's biggest laughs) along the way. Meanwhile, Nemo hatches elaborate escape plans with the creatures dwelling in his new home – a dentist's office aquarium. Though the search-and-rescue plot of this latest computer-animated adventure from Disney-Pixar (Toy Story, A Bug's Life, Monsters, Inc.) will play pretty routine to the grown-ups, pint-sized audiences will be in suspense to the end; adult audiences can enjoy the film's more subtle, clever touches (the dental-office scenes are particularly ingenious). (1:41) Oaks. (Eddy)

*Girls Will Be Girls A sloppily structured mix of sometimes inspired, sometimes just tasteless gags elevated by its leading players' first-class comic chops? Good god: drag cinema has caught up with the mainstream! In this enjoyably crass parody of Valley of the Dolls-type glam melodramas, no cliché is left unspinning in its grave. A Hollywood Hills split-level still frozen in the high-'70s era of its owner's heyday is home to egomanical ex-almost-star Evie Harris (Jack Plotnick), her companion-slash-doormat, Coco (Clinton Leupp), and new housemate Varla (Jeffery Roberson). When the latter dewy young thing shows signs of becoming the sensation Evie never quite was – though she hasn't given up yet – the full wrath of boozy rage-aholism, manicured cat claws, and convoluted revenge schemes soon rears its many-wigged head. Decked out in deliciously Day-Glo-garish sartorial and design splendor, Richard Day's first feature occasionally confuses rude humor with sheer nastiness, but more often than not it's shameless in the right way. All three stars honed their drag personae in prior stage shows (Roberson has visited San Francisco many times as the peerless Varla Jean Merman), and they do know how to make the silliest off-color line strike like a lightning bolt. Add to that some credibly outré sequences (notably "excerpts" from Evie's lone starring vehicle, Asteroid!, a TV-variety-show climax enlivened by the star's being megadosed on hallucinogens), and Girls becomes a slightly guilty pleasure that's often flat-out hilarious. (1:19) Lumiere. (Harvey)

Good Boy! In a galaxy far, far away lies Sirius, mother planet of all doggie-kind. You see, Earth pooches are actually an alien race sent long ago to conquer humanity. They could still do it – really, they could – but they like being pets. Hubble (voiced by Matthew Broderick) is a canine emissary dispatched by her majesty the Greater Dane (Vanessa Redgrave) to report on the dismal progress by Earth's lazy mutts. He crash-lands and is adopted by 12-year-old Owen (Liam Aiken), a lonely boy who is crazy about man's best friend. After an accident with Hubble's "woofer" machine, Owen gains the ability to communicate with his furry buddies; soon, he shows his new pet that humans and pups really do need each other. As in most stories featuring animals possessed of human logic, Good Boy! celebrates a certain strange caste system, but that's far more analysis than this semi-stinky kids' fare deserves. The film is unoriginal but harmless, and six-year-olds will find the vowel-forming doggies cute. (1:23) Century Plaza, Century 20, 1000 Van Ness, Jack London. (Koh)

The Holy Land At the urging of his rabbi, rabbinical student Mendy (Oren Rehany) visits a Tel Aviv prostitute named Sasha (Tchelet Semel) to quell his lustful curiosities. But the lure of the forbidden proves strong, and he finds himself pulling away from the safety of his family and his studies to explore a particularly sinful segment of the secular world. Before long, Mendy's hanging with expat American journalist Mike (Saul Stein), proprietor of a seedy Jerusalem watering hole, and other ambiguously motivated characters, including an Israeli settler known only as "the Exterminator" and a Hebrew-speaking Palestinian who smuggles drugs – or maybe worse – into the city. All the while, the naive Mendy is falling for the beautiful Sasha, who likes him – but loves his American passport. First-time director Eitan Gorlin adds realism by basing The Holy Land on many of his own Israeli experiences, and he uses location shooting with great effectiveness. Too bad about the hooker-who-needs-to-be-saved subplot, though; it's clichéd in any cultural context. (1:40) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

House of the Dead Most video game-derived movies to date have failed because the attempts to graft conventional character and story onto purely sensory "material" didn't take. Such is not an issue with director Uwe Boll's big-screen version of the popular Sega game. There's really no attempt at character or story development beyond the introduction of cannon-fodder leads (as hotties boat to isolated island rave) and of (very) basic premise (uh-oh, all the ravers have turned into flesh-munching zombies). Then nothing but senseless, ceaseless action, action, action. Dead's cartoon carnage is intercut with actual Sega graphics and is frequently designed to look as much like a "live" version of the game as possible. The sum effect may be more frantic than scary, perhaps too self-consciously over the top to be truly gross despite having one of the higher gore quotients in recent multiplex-flick history. Still, this movie doesn't cheat, doesn't try to be anything it's not (like smart, or original, or remotely serious) – it just gushes glossy psychotronic adrenaline, complete with lurid coloration and intermittent rap-rock bombast. Taken as such, one must say: it kinda rocks. (1:32) 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

Intolerable Cruelty The big, splashy, populist star vehicle Hollywood has been waiting for the Coen Brothers to make isn't so much like the updated Preston Sturges comedy they're aiming for as it is like the pretty good cynical farce Danny DeVito has been trying and failing to make since The War of the Roses. Catherine Zeta-Jones plays a serial-marriage murderess whose latest attempt to abscond with a millionaire husband's wealth is thwarted by George Clooney's unbeatable divorce attorney. Needless to say, revenge of a sexual and fiscal nature follows. The script makes decent fun of the grotesque A-list L.A. industry lifestyles the Coens themselves have kept well enough away from, though in terms of narrative complications, the second half doesn't make good on the first half's promises. Clooney may be more '60s Tony Curtis than '40s Cary Grant here, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. Zeta-Jones, on the other hand, brings nothing to the table but her own bottomless, waxy conviction that the hype is true – if everyone says so, she must be that hawt, yes? Mrs. Prenuptial Douglas would be easier to like (even in this garden-variety Venus fly-trap role) if she at least had the sense to look fingered when her leading man says "Obscene wealth becomes you." No such luck. The handpicked supporting players pick up some of the charisma slack, especially Billy Bob Thornton in a turn worthy of comparison to Rudy Vallee's in The Palm Beach Story – though sadly, he gets far less screen time. (1:40) Balboa, Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda, Shattuck. (Harvey)

*Kill Bill: Volume One Violent? Sure. Derivative? Oh yeah. But Quentin Tarantino's latest effort is pure fun for movie maniacs who enjoy watching a beautifully choreographed fight scene (props to Yuen Wo-ping), the return of a beloved cult star (yo, Sonny Chiba!), and the charms of Uma Thurman, here as deadpan as she is deadly. To be sure, this ain't no Pulp Fiction – that patented, quotable "royale with cheese" chitchat is sorely missed, as is any semblance of a plot beyond revenge, revenge, revenge. Here's hoping Volume Two, due early next year, fills in some of Volume One's more gaping story holes; in the meantime, Tarantino fans can play spot-the-homage and cackle at naysayers who dub this gleeful, deliberate B-movie too gory for words. (1:33) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Jack London, Kabuki, Oaks, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

Lost in Translation Halfway through Lost in Translation, it's clear director Sofia Coppola misplaced something other than language somewhere in the air between LAX and Narita. She obviously lost the plot (what glassine, paper-thin bits of it existed, by all accounts) and decided instead to just leave the camera running on her assembled beautiful or amusing characters-slash-objets – a preppily lush Scarlett Johansson, the sleek playground of Tokyo's Park Hyatt, and a resigned Bill Murray – hoping they'd provide the in-flight impromptu entertainment. Maybe in a perfectly art-directed world, they would suffice to fill the pretty vacant spaces of this barely outlined tale. But that's assuming we're as easily amused by Lost in Translation's 105 minutes of good-looking images and vacuous chitchat as we are by sound bites about celebrity cribs. That's assuming we've never glimpsed the sci-fi Tokyo skyline, tried our hand at karaoke, or followed Murray as he navigated a real, meaty part. Instead, Coppola succumbs to the same mistake made by pop stars who get lazy, believe their own hype, and decide everyone can relate to songs about their distorted experiences. (1:45) Albany, Empire, Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont. (Chun)

Luther The problem with historical epics is all the swelling. Puff goes the music, acting, and righteousness until the viewer is following a droopy moral blimp. Luther is not the worst offender, but someone should have turned off the pump. With that I'm-barely-suppressing-my-demons tremble in his voice, Joseph Fiennes plays Martin Luther in this biopic of the 16th-century monk who instigated the Protestant Reformation with his 95 theses against the Catholic Church's sale of indulgences. Director Eric Till chooses to deliver a haunted, unstable Luther who is tormented in his relationship with religion. It is this personal struggle to find a merciful God, and not academic logic, that truly motivates the theologian to enlighten people to the Vatican's scams – priests hawking fake relics and papers guaranteeing escape from purgatory (Rome strangely resembles Fisherman's Wharf in these scenes). Luther's resonant strengths are these depictions of the Church's power to brainwash, but the rest of the film feels like an orchestra directing traffic; it's just a little too dramatic. (1:45) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Koh)

Mambo Italiano That's a spicy gay man! Following the big-fat-ethnic-wedding formula, director Emile Gaudreault presents Montreal's Little Italy in crabby and tradition-bound glory. Mambo Italiano, based on the play by Steve Gallucio, concerns Angelo (Luke Kirby), a young man who comes out of the closet and into the wrath of his earsplitting famiglia, his closeted cop boyfriend, and the community in general. Rumors and insults fly as relatives strategize to straighten the boys out. Angelo is ready to take a stand, but his cop boyfriend isn't. The film is unabashedly over-the-top as we learn that parents can change – and still be as old school as they want to be. Despite the stereotypes, Mambo Italiano is lighthearted and endearing at times – such as when papa Paul Sorvino describes how he and his wife ended up in the "wrong America." You'll be familiar with this truckload of Parmigiana, but you still might enjoy it. (1:40) Embarcadero. (Koh)

*Matchstick Men The latest from the prolific Ridley Scott (working in character-driven Thelma and Louise mode, not bombastic Gladiator-Black Hawk Down mode) follows the near-midlife crisis of Roy (Nicolas Cage), a seasoned con man who has almost managed to rationalize his felonious life. Things would be perfect in Roy's world except for the fact that his conscience eats away at him in the form of a nervous tic and an obsessive-compulsive desire for cleanliness. When he learns he has a 14-year-old daughter, Angela (Alison Lohman), he tentatively begins to open up; the duo hit it off just as Roy and partner Frank (Sam Rockwell) are planning the biggest score of their careers. Complications, executed with great flair and great suspense, ensue. Matchstick Men, based on Eric Garcia's novel, is a thoroughly enjoyable example of what happens when all involved in a film are at the top of their game: it's beautifully photographed, acted, and directed, with a thoughtful, multilayered story that comments, with wry humor, on the highs of taking advantage and the lows of opportunities lost. (2:00) Four Star. (Eddy)*My Life Without Me Sarah Polley has been, and will be, cast in more challenging roles than My Life Without Me's wife, mother, and graveyard-shift janitor Ann, but the fact that it's an easy kinda "difficult" part – noble-sacrifice making, medically doomed, 100 percent sympathetic – doesn't make her pulling it off any less enjoyable. The daily, half-asleep getting along of Ann's life acquires a sudden, wide-awake urgency when she learns has she ovarian cancer – and only a couple of months left to live. Choosing to tell no one, she compiles a list of things to do before exiting and methodically goes through them while keeping up a normal front. Writer-director Isabel Coixet's "quirky" supporting characters feel undercooked, her stylistic flourishes sometimes ditto. But for the most part, the film – and Polley – strikes just the right no-nonsense tenor needed to make an old-fashioned weepie work just as it's supposed to, without pandering or making the viewer feel guilty. (1:46) Albany, Embarcadero. (Harvey)

Mystic River After a poorly executed prologue – and before the plot goes to hell in the last reel – this adaptation of Dennis Lehane's novel plays ideally to Clint Eastwood's strengths as a levelheaded, respectful director of both talented actors and meat-and-potatoes drama. A childhood incident in which 11-year-old Dave was kidnapped by pedophiles before the eyes of playmates Jimmy and Sean still hangs over their adult lives. All remained in their original rough, Boston neighborhood, though the three have maintained an awkward distance from each other ever since. That ends when the daughter of corner store owner Jimmy (Sean Penn) is murdered after a night of barhopping – a night when Dave (Tim Robbins) comes home at 3 a.m. to wife Celeste (Marcia Gay Harden) bloodied by what he claims at first is an altercation with a mugger. Guess who's the homicide detective assigned to the case? Sean (Kevin Bacon), of course, alongside his partner, Whitey (Laurence Fishburne). Underplaying the material's potentially clichéd tough-guy milieu and pulp-thriller aspects, Eastwood and scenarist Brian Helgeland orchestrate an engrossing drama. Just the kind of starry, serious, conventional project sure to be remembered at awards time, Mystic River is nonetheless seriously compromised – in my book at least – by a last act that throws away the credible resolution we've been led toward, instead springing a left-field one wildly dependent on coincidence and contrivance. (2:20) California, Century 20, Empire, Jack London, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Harvey)

Out of Time In a small Florida town, a love triangle involving a smitten sheriff (Denzel Washington), a married (and terminally ill) woman, and large bundles of greenback spells certain trouble. An expensive cure for his lover's illness sets the stage for a rather dubious "loan" and a life insurance adjustment; quicker than you can say "Elmore Leonard," there's a corpse, a missing bag of loot, and the nagging feeling that our hero has been set up to take the fall. What starts out as potentially interesting Southern-fried pulp rapidly turns into a noir-by-numbers where even the odd bits of quirk (John Billingsly's comic relief is nothing but a strong case for Ritalin) get washed over by a tropical storm of plot improbabilities. The thought of Washington and director Carl Franklin (Devil in a Blue Dress) together again quickens the pulse, but anyone expecting lightning to strike twice here is, sadly, out of luck. (1:45) Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl In this seaworthy tale from Ring director Gore Verbinski and action-happy producer Jerry Bruckheimer, offbeat swashbuckler Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) and blacksmith Will Turner (Lord of the Rings elf Orlando Bloom) team up to pursue the snarling buccaneers who've kidnapped Will's beloved Elizabeth (Keira Knightley from Bend It like Beckham). Seems the crew of the Black Pearl (including Geoffrey Rush as their monkey-toting leader) believe she's the key to lifting the nasty curse that plagues them. Pirates taps plenty of familiar motifs – a talking parrot ("Shiver me timbers!"), a cave filled with treasure, cannon fights, people saying, "Arrrr!" – and follows a pretty rote escape-and-capture story line. And yeah, it's based on a Disneyland ride. But thanks in no small part to Depp's oddly endearing performance, the good-natured Pirates aims for fun and largely succeeds. (2:23) Balboa, Oaks. (Eddy)

*Rana's Wedding Her matchmaking father, a registrar, and a four o'clock deadline appear to be all that stand between beautiful and headstrong Rana (Clara Khoury) and the young theater director she has determined to marry (Khalifa Natour). But because the setting is East Jerusalem and the would-be honeymooners are Palestinian, the plot is not as simple as it sounds and the theme far from trivial. The inevitable backdrop of occupation becomes a major actor in the proceedings, throwing up physical and psychic impediments at every turn. Roadblocks, house demolitions, surveillance cameras, funerals, and the chilling routine of boys with rocks meeting soldiers with guns, all invade and transform a lighthearted love story into an allegory of the human capacity to build up life even where an unrelenting force insists on tearing it down. With understated humor, a gently pensive pace, strong performances, and an enchanting cinematic sweep, Palestinian filmmaker Hany Abu-Assad nicely realizes Liana Badr's eye-opening story of survival under military rule. (1:30) Roxie. (Avila)

Returner Here in the United States, you've got people trying to re-create low-budget Asian action movies (Kill Bill for one, Cradle 2 the Grave for another). Meanwhile in Japan, they've committed vast amounts of time and energy to building faux-Hollywood blockbusters like 2002's Returner. Takeshi Kaneshiro (formerly of the legendary Japanese trash-TV drama God, Please Give Me More Time) plays the standard-issue, well-dressed assassin-cool guy out to avenge himself on a yakuza nutcase (the always welcome Goro Kishitani of Takashi Miike's New Graveyard of Honor and Humanity) who makes the mistake of harvesting the wrong little kid's organs for a buck. One day a grubby urchin (Ann Suzuki) drops out of the sky and into Kaneshiro's life. Seems she's been sent back in time from a grim future on a quest to prevent the termination of humankind. And unless she and Kaneshiro can help a certain extraterrestrial find his way home, an alien invasion of our planet will commence (presumably on Independence Day). Full of familiar-looking special effects and production design, the second film by director-writer Takashi Yamazaki (whose previous movie was Juvenile) sets new standards for craven unoriginality. (1:58) Shattuck. (Macias)

Runaway Jury A juror (John Cusack) on a gun-industry-lawsuit case and his scheming girlfriend (Rachel Weisz) play both the Clarence Darrow-like prosectuor (Dustin Hoffman) and the slick corporate mouthpiece (Gene Hackman) against each other by offering to sway the jury verdict in favor of the side that can cough up the most dough. Of course, this being an adaptation of a novel by everyone's favorite member of the courtroom suspense literati, John Grisham, there's a surprising amount of life-or-death intrigue, nothing is what it seems, and ham-fisted soliloquies about truth, justice, etc. get bandied about like so many shuttlecocks. Director Gary Fleder (Kiss the Girls) doesn't help the predictably twisty plotline with his usual leaden touch, killing what little airplane-reading pleasures the author's page-turning narratives usually yield. Even solid go-to actors like Cusack and Hackman seem to be going through the motions here, which doesn't help the feeling that there's precious little "trial" drama present to make up for all that storytelling error. (2:08) Century 20, Century Plaza, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

The Rundown A "retrieval expert" (Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson) with a surprising knowledge of wrestling moves is sent to a Brazilian jungle town to bring back a treasure-hunting rich kid (Seann William Scott). Unfortunately, the job becomes complicated when a rebel resistance leader (Rosario Dawson) and a gold-mine magnate (Christopher Walken) both think the lad can lead them to an ancient artifact worth millions. Everyone involved knows they're not reinventing the wheel here, so the cast goes through their roles – muscular hero, obnoxious comic relief, sassy female, villain with an oddly stilted cadence – gamely, and thanks to some first-rate stunt work and Johnson's XXL-sized screen charm, the result is a shockingly pleasant heap of blockbuster-style Big Dumb Fun. The welcome gets worn out sometime around the noisy third act, but like an oversized puppy full of bounding energy (and desperate to be liked), the movie can't help but win you over simply by wearing you down. (1:44) Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

*School of Rock Jack Black finally gets his big break in Richard Linklater's School of Rock as Dewey Finn, a wanna-be rock god stuck in perpetual adolescence who refuses the request of his long-suffering roommates (Sarah Silverman and screenwriter Mike White) to give in to the rat race: "I serve society," he exclaims, "by rocking!" After our hero's band gives him the boot, however, his plan to win the local Battle of the Bands showdown falls apart. Masquerading as a substitute teacher to get some quick dough, he fills in at a prep school for the gifted. It turns out that some of his fourth-graders are musical prodigies, which inspires Dewey to start an opportunistic class project titled "Rock Band" – with the final to be held at the contest. If there's a Mighty Ducks-flavored bad taste in your mouth after reading that synopsis, you're not alone. But what Black and his partners in crime do with the material makes a world of difference. Any hint of sentimentality is bowled over by hitching the reworked warhorse narrative onto the comedian's meta-rock star/wild-man persona, and his territorial pissings all over the underdog material turn this into a series of sublimely ridiculous Black-out sketches. (1:40) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Fear)

Seabiscuit In the midst of the Great Depression, a second-rate racing nag named Seabiscuit, laden with an oversized jockey (Tobey Maguire), a laconic trainer (Chris Cooper), and a zealous manager (Jeff Bridges), somehow broke track records and captured the public's fancy. Based on Laura Hillenbrand's insanely readable biography, the film adaptation by Gary Ross (Pleasantville) also gets people rooting for the under-horse while imbuing social significance to the sport of kings, though his version seems overflowing with its own sense of stateliness. The movie often seems less a retelling of the legendary equine success story than a catalog of pure Americana, owing as much to Horatio Alger's bootstrap fables or Walker Evans's photography as it does to horse racing and history. Amazing performances, gorgeous autumnal visuals, and elliptical editing provide a wonderful cadence but eventually lose by a nose to Capraesque populist pandering, complete with PBS-friendly narration that equates the martyr mare with New Deal politics quicker than you can say Triple Crown-ed metaphor. (2:21) Galaxy, Kabuki. (Fear)

The Station Agent Along with Pieces of April, this was part of Patricia Clarkson's one-two punch at the Sundance Film Festival; actually, Clarkson was in four films there, but the other two weren't award winners. In The Station Agent she plays a divorcée grieving her son's death, and the movie's strongest scenes involve her cold-shoulder response when people misguidedly reach out to offer comfort. Tom McCarthy's film is choreographed so that a triad of misfits – two loners (Clarkson and Peter Dinklage) and one extrovert (Bobby Cannavale) – meet up on the train tracks of small-town life, only to break apart again. Dinklage's dwarf protagonist alternately faces and escapes a patronizing world, but it's his rejection by Clarkson's character that truly stings. If all this sounds depressing, rest assured The Station Agent doesn't forget to add moments of hope and whimsy; they just aren't as interesting as its dark side. (1:28) Bridge, Piedmont. (Huston)

Step into Liquid There's nothing more photogenic than bronzed surfers cutting through sun-dappled waves – and yet there are few things as hard to capture on-screen as the exhilarating rush that makes surfing so addictive and so popular. This paradox has dogged surf-umentaries since their first dip into the cinematic pool, and it's something that Step into Liquid seems to know it can't outpaddle. So filmmaker and pedigreed surf aficionado Dana "Son of Bruce" Brown bypasses capturing lightning in a bottle, concentrating instead on fashioning a cinematic Surf Culture for Dummies that's less an Endless Summer than endless summaries of facts on the modern-day wave-rider lifestyle. The MTV-friendly aesthetics and moondoggy narration (warbly voiced philosophy about harmony, nature, etc.) are a poor substitute for actual adrenaline, however, and even with some gorgeous visuals, it still feels like a simplified tourist version of a second-hand high. (1:28) Balboa, Opera Plaza. (Fear)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Though fans might fear the worst (four words: Gus Van Sant's Psycho), this semi-faithful retooling of Tobe Hooper's 1974 creep-out classic commits surprisingly little sacrilege. Don't get me wrong – Hooper's film is a masterpiece of scare-you-shitless cinema, whereas this new version (from first-time director Marcus Nispel, with producing help by the dreaded Michael Bay) is very much in the mold of new-millennium horror ("you go girl" empowerment, flashy camerawork, stale Blair Witch nods). Still, there are some choice moments that aim solely to turn stomachs with old-school gusto, including a prolonged meathook-suspension sequence and a shockola double take that highlights villain Leatherface's cleverness with masks made from human faces. Overall, though, the original is a must-see; this remake's just a maybe. (1:38) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

*Thirteen Sure to be regarded as a grrrlish Kids for the '00s thanks to its strong, sharp portrait of prepubescent girls gone wild, Thirteen screams "Pay attention to me!" with a spot-on mixture of adolescent rage and joy. In a debut feature cowritten with then-13-year-old star Nikki Reed, director Catherine Hardwicke manages to catch all the casual cruelty, sex, drugs, and scar tissue of those preteen years with an acuity that'll send a thrill, or chill, of recognition through all you former kids. No doubt the emphasis will be on chills for viewing parents. It doesn't take more than a once-over by seventh grade's hot girl, Evie (Reed), for Tracy (Evan Rachel Wood) to go from a poetry-writing nice kid to a furiously acting-out nastee bizkit. Her single mom (Holly Hunter), herself taking it one day at a time, watches in misery as her love story with her baby girl goes horribly wrong. Tracy's "decadence" may ring a tad extreme – sometimes she seems to be trying out every trick in the big book of bad habits. But Thirteen's performances lift it out of the teensploitation camp – there's little that's laughable or kitsch about Wood's and Hunter's bawls-out intensity. (1:40) Lumiere. (Chun)

*Tibet: Cry of the Snow Lion Many people unfortunately think of the Free Tibet movement as little more than a cause perfect for good celebrity P.R., but if this documentary proves nothing else, it's that Tibet is in serious need of progressive international aid. Following the history of the country as an occupied territory, filmmaker Tom Peosay's look at the atrocities and injustices perpetrated on the Tibetan people – even owning a picture of their Buddhist spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, will get you arrested – has a tendency to flip between a picturesque travelogue (Martin Sheen's narration seems lifted from a Discovery Channel special at times) and a catalogue of horrors. But neither the tonal inconsistencies nor the A-list movie star readings of victim testimonies make the occupier's sins any less painful, and with talking-head footage ranging from an in-denial Chinese diplomat to the Dalai Lama himself, it's an invaluable first step toward understanding Tibet's tragedy. (1:40) Shattuck, Smith Rafael, Opera Plaza. (Fear)

Under the Tuscan Sun After her husband leaves her, and she sells her San Francisco home for a tidy sum, writer Frances Mayes (Diane Lane) takes a trip to Italy at the bidding of her best friend, Patti (the wryly hilarious Sandra Oh). To everyone's surprise, and most of all, her own, Frances ends up buying a run-down villa; before long, "Francesca" 's new life in Tuscany is a whirlwind of home repairs, encounters with quirky locals, gorgeous landscapes, and broken heart-healing moments of joy and personal growth. To be sure, this likable comedy – directed by Audrey Wells (Guinevere), who also adapted her screenplay from the real-life Mayes' best-selling memoir – is tailor-made for the Oprah set. But it's impossible not to root for Lane, whose thoughtful performance handily rises above the film's more cheese-ball moments. (1:43) Century 20, Empire, Grand Lake, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Veronica Guerin In the mid '90s, a journalist named Veronica Guerin (Cate Blanchett) took on Dublin's drug lords by naming names in her weekly column. For her troubles, she was threatened, beaten, and was eventually assassinated; her death, an end credits intertitle informs us, was not in vain, as it spurred a new set of laws that curbed the country's narcotics plague. No one would expect director Joel Schumacher or über-producer Jerry Bruckheimer to treat this based-on-a-true story with any subtly or tact, but one also wouldn't have anticipated such a boring display of journeyman competence, either. The entire affair feels like your average biopic teleplay drained of any dramatic tension, capable of stunting even the formidable talents of Blanchett behind a general sense of listlessness. Guerin may be a martyr for muckrakers in real life, but as a film subject she feels like little more than a shorthand sketch for an Oscar-bait heroine. (1:46) Century 20, Galaxy, Shattuck. (Fear)

*Whale Rider Director Niki Caro's adaptation of New Zealand author Witi Ihimaera's 1986 novel combines familiar coming-of-age elements with Maori mysticism to exceptionally engaging effect. Pubescent Pai (Keisha Castle-Hughes) has been raised by her strict but loving grandfather Koro (Rawiri Paratene) and more easygoing grandma (Vicky Haughton) since her artist dad left to travel the world. The latter (Cliff Curtis) was and is too grief-stricken to stay in the community – his wife died giving birth to Pai, and tribal chief Koro still pressures him to deliver a male grandchild who might one day "lead our people out of the darkness" that modern, Westernized life has imposed. But that ain't happening, so granddad opens a "sacred school" to educate local boys in "the old ways – the qualities of a chief." These involve everything from religious ritual to martial arts instruction. Koro is so rigidly tradition-minded that he insists girls are "worthless" in these capacities – though it's increasingly clear to everyone else that Pai possesses talent and discipline far beyond any male peers. The resulting, painful rift between child and grandparent reaches a climactic point of catastrophe and supernatural redemption that would be ludicrous in any less psychologically level-headed, stylistically astute context. A rare movie that should play just as well for eight-year-olds as it does for art-house grownups. (1:55) Red Vic. (Harvey)

*Winged Migration Its unassuming title and topic (migratory birds) notwithstanding, Jacques Perrin's documentary Winged Migration is of a feather with the greatest of action movies: the only time the screen is not occupied with ambushes, crash landings, gunshots, daring escapes, murderous crustaceans, and crumbling icebergs, is when it follows the birds in pure, sensational flight. Five crews of more than 450 people, with 17 pilots and 14 cinematographers, were involved in filming these birds in flight, and still the resulting sequences are so close, so immediate, so lacking in artifice, that you would swear they were filmed by another bird. And it's a running theme that while the humans are so ingenious as to bring the film off – traveling across 40 countries in all seven continents, from the Eiffel Tower to Monument Valley, the Arctic to the Amazon – the indefatigable birds themselves are even more astounding. (1:29) Shattuck. (Amir Baghdachi)