film

Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Kimberly Chun, David Fear, Dina Gachman, Susan Gerhard, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Laurie Koh, Patrick Macias, and Chuck Stephens. The film intern is Melissa McCartney. See Rep Clock, page 98, and Movie Clock, page 100, for theater information. For complete film listings, see www.sfbg.com.

Opening

*Gloomy Sunday Though steeped in melodrama, Nick Barkow's novel of overlapping love affairs amid war-torn 1930s Budapest translates stunningly to the big screen. Director Rolf Schübel recaptures all the magic of an old-school drama as his charismatic actors bring the romantic script to life. Very much in love, Laszlo (Joachim Krol) and Ilona (Erika Maroszán) run a restaurant and hire Andras (Stefano Dionisi) to play piano. Andras is quickly pulled in by Ilona's charms, and the three develop an understanding relationship, rather than suffering one man to live without her affection. The film takes its name from the stirring yet depressing song Andras writes for Ilona (in real life, the so-called suicide song, made popular by Billie Holliday, was written in 1935 by Hungarians Rezsö Seress and Laszlo Javor). A return to real movie making, where all the elements blend in a harmony seldom seen in Hollywood these days, Gloomy Sunday cleverly deals with threats to perfect love: the "other man," manipulation, war, and even death. (1:54) Lumiere, Smith Rafael. (McCartney)

Honey Jessica Alba (Dark Angel) stars as a streetwise choreographer determined to follow her dancin' dreams. (1:34) Century Plaza, Century 20, Shattuck.

The Last Samurai After James Clavell's Shogun and Kevin Costner's Dances with Wolves, noble savage clichés just aren't what they used to be. Yet here's Tom Cruise as Captain Nathan Algren, a Civil War veteran who travels to Meiji-era Japan to become a player in the samurai rebellion, a conflict that pits the ancient ways against a rapidly modernizing world. Falling under the influence of his captor, outlaw Katsumoto (Ken Watanabe), Algren discovers an "intriguing people" whose devotion to "honor" and "loyalty" inspires him to strap on armor that makes him look about as dramatic as an ice hockey player. To be fair, there's some decent action scenes, but they're not enough to compensate for the film's deadly dramatic failings. The big problem with The Last Samurai is director and co-screenwriter Edward Zwick (Glory) and producer Cruise have constructed a warped Akira Kurosawa fantasy without a single plot twist or surprise that isn't glaringly obvious from frame one. (2:24) California, Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Orinda. (Macias)

Melvin Goes to Dinner See Movie Clock. (1:23) Red Vic.

Zero Day Those who thought Elephant too arty and abstract might cotton to this similarly Columbine-inspired docudrama. Contrary to what one might expect, the two features don't make for redundant viewing. But while Gus Van Sant's ambiguous, ornately camera-choreographed film is – at the very least – an extraordinary objet d'art, writer-director Ben Coccio's Zero Day pedals ersatz raw-realism toward decreasingly meaningful results. It's a faux video diary in the lives of self-described "Army of Two" teen suburbanites Andre (lanky Andre Keuck) and Cal (angelic-looking Calvin Robertson). Over nearly a year they execute "a series of missions" that start with egging one jock jerk's house and then escalate toward a May Day armed assault on their "enemy" high school. The "nonprofessional" actors (actually both leads each have extensive theater experience) are quite good. For a while, Zero Day looks like the freshest dramatic application of camcorderism since The Blair Witch Project. Climactic black-and-white surveillance-camera views of carnage carry some charge, too. But they also sport a certain grisly "true crime" voyeurism. We never actually see any peer abuse, or otherwise glean just how high school life torments our protagonists beyond their on-camera remarks. Zero Day violates its own first-person plausibility with too many camera "voices" in the third act. Ultimately it feels more exploitative than revealing. (1:35) Act I and II, Opera Plaza. (Harvey)

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) Balboa. (Huston)

*Bad Santa At this point, can any attack on Kris Kringle's public image generate shock? That's one of the chief dilemmas faced by Terry Zwigoff's Bad Santa, which casts Billy Bob Thornton as Willie T. Stokes, a self-described "eating, drinking, shitting, fucking Santa Claus." He's also a crook, robbing stores on Christmas Eve with his elfin partner in crime, Marcus (Tony Cox). Emptying the safes of U.S. consumerist palaces, Stokes is certainly a criminal, but this is a Terry Zwigoff movie: such thievery doesn't make him a villain. Whether documentary or fictive, Zwigoff's films usually sympathize with a malcontented male outcast, and it isn't a stretch to suggest that an ornery shopping-mart Santa makes an apt mouthpiece for the director while he's positioned in the heart of Hollywood. Still, Bad Santa is also a crossover bid; a hilarious shot heralding Stokes and Marcus's annual return to work also signals that Zwigoff wants to raise hell in Arizona, much like his executive producers Ethan and Joel Coen once did. It all ends with a Bing (Crosby's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas") and a bang as Santa sentimentalists bite the bullet and the whole audience gets the finger. (1:30) California, Century Plaza, Century 20, 1000 Van Ness. (Huston)

Brother Bear (1:25) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

*City of God (2:10) Lumiere.

*Die Mommie Die! Charles Busch plays Angela Arden, a onetime Hit Parade song thrush long since retired to the no less up-and-down charts of late-1960s Beverly Hills domesticity. Her marriage to socially conscious but privately loutish film producer Sol Sussman (Philip Baker Hall) having long since soured, Angela channels bank-flooding eddies of theatrical emotion toward her children, her drop-dead wardrobe, her immaculate rose garden, and on occasion her libido – the latest fertilizer being no less than erstwhile Beverly Hills, 90210 hottie Jason Priestley as massively equipped tennis instructor-failed actor-all purpose gigolo Tony Parker. Sol's premature demise sets off a chain reaction of intrigue and backstabbing in which the one stable element is versatile Tony, whose talents really do get around. Adapted from Busch's stage play, director Mark Rucker's first feature does for the cheesier Ross Hunter-style big-screen soaps of the early to mid '60s what Far from Heaven did for the plush Douglas Sirk melodramas made a decade earlier – albeit with tongue planted much farther in cheek – with a star turn just as immaculately realized. (1:30) Lumiere. (Harvey)

*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) Lumiere. (Harvey)

Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat When Dr. Seuss first envisioned his oversized cat in the whimsical striped hat, I'm quite positive profanity and blatant sexual innuendos were not part of the package. Mike Myers approaches the title character, and the film, as a showcase for Saturday Night Live-style sketches revamped to fit a feline player. Thankfully, the wealth of inappropriate jokes will probably fly right over the heads of younger viewers, who'll be enthralled by all of the zany antics. Sadly, though, the bright colors and gross-out humor do little to mask the film's surprising lack of magic and energy – so essential to the book's race-against-time plot. The children (Dakota Fanning and Spencer Breslin) are wooden, and director Bo Welch never really achieves the fevered pace that should keep the plot rolling. Instead, he has created a Seussian world that is a sexualized, MTV version of what the good Dr. had intended. (1:22) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (McCartney)

*Elephant A football jock enters the frame. The mist coming out of his mouth is a visual record of his breath as he crosses the chalk line of the athletic field where he rules and heads toward the blue door of the school where he'll soon die. When the jock greets his girlfriend with a kiss, their names appear on a black intertitle. Nathan and Carrie are 2 of 10 kids named in Gus Van Sant's Elephant – characters who mostly share the same first names of the actors playing them. A Wiseman named Frederick once made High School, a stagy documentary about an institution for teenagers. In comparison, Van Sant's execution is flawless, but his aim isn't so true; he's made a high school film about Columbine. The key word in that last sentence is about: Elephant turns cause-and-effect responses to the high school shooting phenomenon into a mug's game. Many of the rumored, spurious motives and influences behind Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold's actions are present here, but not as evidence or proof – they're as disconnected as everything and everybody else in Elephant. If the film were simply an improv-based portrait of an institutional system, it wouldn't be so loaded; the nuances of Van Sant's fascination with teenagers wouldn't be semi-obscured by a mammoth issue. (1:21) Embarcadero. (Huston)

*Elf Anyone who has appreciated Will Ferrell's manic male cheerleader has long known he resides in the land of lost toys, which may be why this film was literally built around him. With custom-made minisets that call up the magical sarcasm of Being John Malkovich's floor seven and a half, Ferrell, as six-foot-plus Buddy the Elf, stumbles and trips his way into the knowledge that he doesn't belong in the North Pole. He travels to New York City to find his human father (James Caan) and help make naughty into nice. The film shoehorns in the expected plays on Christmas specials past, with the sashaying snowman, the ice-block boat, and a Rudolph climax, but director Jon Favreau freshens the Chex Party Mix with better-than-usual comic touches. (1:37) Century Plaza, Century 20, Kabuki, Oaks, 1000 Van Ness. (Gerhard)

Gothika That sucking sound you hear might be coming from Gothika's plot holes – or it might just be the movie itself. For all its dark-and-stormy-night atmospherics, this tale of a psychiatrist (Halle Berry) who's locked up with her former patients after apparently killing her hubby (Charles S. Dutton) is most chilling when you consider how unoriginal it is. The biggest mystery at hand is which plot element is more clichéd: the creepy girl-ghost seeking vengeance or the creepy serial killer seeking victims. The better-than-B cast (which also includes Robert Downey Jr. and Penélope Cruz) and director Mathieu Kassovitz (as an actor, you know him as the crush-worthy Nino in Amélie) goes through the right rock 'em, shock 'em paces, but Gothika's lasting impact will probably be as fodder for Scary Movie 4, and little else. (1:35) Century Plaza, Century 20, Galaxy, Kabuki. (Eddy)

The Haunted Mansion The ominous tones of the theme song to Disney's Haunted Mansion set the mood, which hints at spooky nostalgia for adult fans and pint-size thrills for kids. Unfortunately for everyone, the promise is left unfulfilled. Based on the legendary Disney theme park ride, this incarnation of the Haunted Mansion, directed by Rob Minkoff (Stuart Little), follows the Evers family, whose short detour turns into a night of horror when they get stuck in the house due to an unusual storm. Dad Jim (Eddie Murphy) sets about to expose the secret that has held the house cursed for so long, while mom Sara (Marsha Thomason) is believed by the mansion's master's ghost to be the reincarnation of his long-dead love, and his soul cannot rest until she is his again. While Murphy is amusing in a cheesy real estate guy kind of way, the whole story feels disconnected. A heady cameo by Jennifer Tilly nearly steals the show, but even she can't make this one worth the price of admission. (1:38) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Cindy Emch)

The Human Stain (1:46) Galaxy.

In America It's tough to put a magical sheen on living in a drug-addled tenement, but writer and director Jim Sheridan (In the Name of the Father) gives it a shot with In America, a modern Irish immigration story based on his own experience. Attempting to escape the memory of their lost son, Johnny (Paddy Considine) and Sarah (Samantha Morton) move to New York City with their two young girls. Dirt poor but determined, wanna-be actor Johnny struggles almost inhumanely to make his family's life bearable, but he can't connect to them given his refusal to grieve. Sisters Sarah and Emma Bolger give amazingly natural performances as the daughters who take the ghetto in stride, expressing genuine delight at the flock of pigeons hogging their new digs. Still, Sheridan's gritty New York is too tangible for the ethereal touch to work beyond the eyes of the sisters, and the film's reliance on cosmic intervention at key moments actually injects predictability into an otherwise engaging story. (1:43) Embarcadero. (Koh)

In the Cut (1:58) Four Star.

Intolerable Cruelty (1:40) Shattuck.

*Kill Bill: Volume One (1:33) 1000 Van Ness.

Looney Tunes: Back in Action (1:30) Century 20, Oaks, 1000 Van Ness.

*Lost Boys of Sudan War in Sudan has so far left an estimated two million dead and four million displaced. Dinka tribes of the south have been particularly hard hit. This documentary's protagonists are among some 20,000 cattle-tending "lost boys" who escaped village massacres in which their fathers were killed and their mothers and sisters taken as slaves. Those who survived the trek (including frequent lion attacks) ended up in Ethiopian and Kenyan refugee camps. Filmmakers Megan Mylan and John Shenk follow seven of these teens who are finally cleared for U.S. emigration, sponsored by various church and social service organizations. Their rough landing encompasses everything from the sheer initial joy of having plentiful food to dismay at limited educational opportunities and dead-end factory jobs. "Now it's clear, there is no heaven on earth," one refugee sighs after several months. The outsider's perspective on our "land of opportunity" is quite fascinating, with community-minded Sudanese exhibiting practical values considerably loftier than those around them. The all-American notion that anyone can "get ahead" here by dint of "hard work" proves wobbly: as industrious and eager to learn as the boys are, they nonetheless soon discover cold cash ultimately determines most life paths hereabouts. High on narrative human interest, sobering yet ultimately inspirational, this is a great nonfiction film that you'll end up loving, no matter how tediously worthy it might sound. (1:30) Oaks, Roxie, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Lost in Translation (1:45) Albany, Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont.

Love Actually (2:12) Century Plaza, Century 20, Four Star, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness.

*Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World Peter Weir's first film since The Truman Show bears little resemblance to any other action behemoth in recent memory. For the most part, that is a very good thing. Welding together chunks from the lengthy historical fiction series by Patrick O'Brian, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World isn't so much episodic in the usual brief-pauses-between-escalating-climaxes sense as it is picaresque in, well, a 19th-century sense. Like O'Brian, Weir is more interested in the workings and the character of HMS Surprise and its crew (led by Russell Crowe's authoritatively low-key Captain Jack Aubrey) than in battles per se. Which is not to say the face-offs against "old Boney's" (Napoleon Bonaparte's) frigates aren't highly visceral, nor are the surgeries performed by resident doctor-naturalist Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany) lacking in gruesome impact. But the movie bears Weir's trademark spectral qualities: the images are spectacular yet fallible, obscured by darkness and the elements; an offhand, lyric humanism makes this probably the least macho film of its type ever made. (2:08) Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Harvey)

*Matrix Revolutions (2:09) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

The Missing One can't help thinking of the many ghosts of Westerns past that haunt The Missing's dusty trail – The Searchers' retrieval plot and rocky racial disharmony, the many revisionist noble-savage tales of the '60s, even the blood-soaked Bosch tableau of Cormac McCarthy's totemic Western novel Blood Meridian – and how this film's pale riders can't help paling in comparison. Its dark fable of a frontier woman (Cate Blanchett) and her quest to retrieve her kidnapped daughter from bloodthirsty Indians, with the help of her danced-with-wolves deadbeat dad (Tommy Lee Jones) has the general ingredients for an intriguing Electra-complex take on how the West was wrung, but don't be fooled. Strip away the six-guns and it's little more than your basic thriller in sheepskin clothing. Director Ron Howard knows how to marinate a Fordian landscape in bleakness, but his flirtation with genre conventions/archetypes feels half-digested, and his storytelling here merely serves to demonstrate the vast gap between being an artistic filmmaker and a functional one. (2:10) Century Plaza, Century 20, Empire, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Fear)

*My Flesh and Blood One's sense of typical family dysfunction melts away when faced with the Tom clan. Fifteen-year-old Joe is threatening to kill his sisters, 19-year-old Anthony is battling cancer, and eight-year-old Faith beats up other kids at school. On top of all this, each child is disabled, with ailments ranging from skin diseases to missing limbs. For one year, director Jonathan Karsh filmed the family of divorced mother Susan Tom and her 11 "special needs" adoptive children. The resulting My Flesh and Blood is a dramatic cinema verité doc that examines the tumultuous lives of these unlikely siblings and their patient yet worn-down mother. As moving, hard-edged, and at times upsetting as the film is, the children are never portrayed as victims. Good cheer and perseverance abound in a sincere and inspiring way as the kids battle to create the veneer of normal lives. Focusing on six of the family members, Karsh easily helps us look past their disabilities and examines the ways in which they cope with a range of issues, from dating to death. Karsh finds more beauty and touching drama among the Toms than can be found in any Hollywood picture. (1:23) Clay, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (McCartney)

*My Life Without Me (1:46) Opera Plaza.

Mystic River (2:20) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

Pieces of April (1:20) Albany, Embarcadero, Empire.

Radio (1:46) Galaxy.

Runaway Jury (2:08) Balboa.

Scary Movie 3 (1:30) 1000 Van Ness.

*School of Rock (1:40) Balboa, Shattuck.

*Shattered Glass A drama starring Hayden Christensen might sound like a movie inherently doomed by a stiff, clonelike lead performance, but Christensen redeems himself playing disgraced New Republic journalist-fabulist Stephen Glass – while not the best actor here, he brings ample phony charms to the part. Screenwriter turned director Billy Ray fashions an intelligent, crisp narrative; Glass's rise and fall gradually turn into the story of Chuck Lane (Peter Sarsgaard), the man who uncovered the full scope of Glass's falsehoods. When Ray contrasts bad-boy Glass's sexual ambivalence with Lane's family man "normality," the conservative morality of the dichotomy is annoying, but Shattered Glass's screenplay nails the covert power plays lurking beneath newsroom banter, and Sarsgaard is excellent. Keep an eye out for Heavenly Creatures alum Melanie Lynskey in a bit part. (1:34) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Huston)

The Station Agent (1:28) Act I and II, Embarcadero, Piedmont.

Sylvia You are alone with Sylvia Plath in a movie theater: What would you like to know? Sylvia, the movie, probably won't tell you, which is perhaps its most frustrating feature. Director Christine Jeffs is too responsible to the source material for my taste in this gorgeously brooding duo-biopic of the infamously passionate relationship between Plath and Ted Hughes. The film does veer off that path at moments, providing a coy peephole view of the relationship itself at times, and playing it too lose with actual words these poets spoke, as if every moment were written in tense, heavy verse. But too much of the biography is already known, too little of the mystery better understood here. While the jury's still out on how well Plath's life does as a play, an opera, or in the many pieces of biography and few stray novelizations, it doesn't play so well as a movie. I'd like to suggest a return to the poetry itself. (2:02) Opera Plaza. (Gerhard)

*Tamala 2010 Barbarella is gene-spliced with Hello Kitty in the surreal Blade Runner universe of this animated feature by two-man Japanese music-visual art "unit" t.o.L. (or trees of Life). Needless to say, you can check your head at the door. Tamala 2010 is like the chill-room alternative to last year's DJ QBert project Wave Twisters. Its heroine is a big-eyed space kitty blown off course during a solo trip from her native Cat Earth in the Feline Galaxy to Orion. She lands instead on Planet Q, where martial law enforcement and terrorism reports seem to barely stir the jaded, business-as-usual inhabitants (best illustrated by recurring scenes of two cat drag queens bitching in a bar). The mostly black-and-white cartoon looks like a Dada-fied take on classic original TV anime Astro Boy, with visual references encompassing everything from Metropolis to Diane Arbus; no doubt there's never been anything quite like this enigmatic explosion of cybercuteness. (1:32) Castro. (Harvey)

*Tibet: Cry of the Snow Lion (1:40) Opera Plaza.

Timeline The latest film adapted from a work by Michael "I'm a real novelist! I swear!" Crichton is brought to the big screen with the same wildly inconsistent mediocrity that has defined the career of director Richard Donner. A group of archaeology students are sent hurtling back in time to 14th- century France in order to save their mentor (Billy Connolly), the accidental victim of a machine that renders nerds capable of time travel. The students are led by Paul Walker, whose acting influences apparently include 1950s sci-fi robots (though, with costars Frances O'Connor and Gerard Butler doing their best Keanu impressions, Walker is actually the most charismatic actor in the film). I'll give you a second to let the full horror of that last statement sink in. Bottom line: apart from a gluttony of severed limbs and flying arrows, Timeline fails to dispense the slightest thrill. (2:08) Centur Plaza, Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (McCartney)

Tupac: Resurrection (1:51) 1000 Van Ness.

*21 Grams 21 Grams is a good movie hobbled most by its certainty of greatness; its entire construction, nonstop emotional urgency, and near complete lack of humor signal as much throughout. It's better than most "prestige" efforts – certainly the concurrent Sean Penn vehicle Mystic River, which similarly orchestrates several personal tragedies into contrived sentimental-existential narrative symphonies – due to the makers having one foot in art-house cred and another in starry Hollywood uplift. Amores perros director Alejandro González Iñárritu and scenarist Guillermo Arriaga should be congratulated for making a film that was first conceived for Mexico City seem not at all awkward in the English-language U.S. milieu; what's more, there's a grittiness of tenor and texture that's brave for a commercial film. 21 Grams is so frequently so good on a scene-by-scene basis that one wishes only it hadn't gotten some very big ideas. It's bleak, inventive, and heartfelt to degrees that feel right until they don't. (2:18) Bridge, Piedmont, Shattuck. (Harvey)

Under the Tuscan Sun (1:43) Four Star, Galaxy.

Veronica Guerin (1:46) Balboa. Rep picks

*'The Form of History: An Injury to One and more' See "Drag City," page 42. San Francisco Cinematheque.

*From Here to Eternity Looking back at the 1953 Oscar juggernaut that launched a million sand-encrusted romantic clinches, one can't help noticing its elements haven't dated well: the editing and director Fred Zinnemann's mise-en-scène couldn't be blander; the dialogue occasionally seems to have sprung from a can of creamed corn; and the story never quite finds a balance between the hairy-knuckled melodrama and straight-up populist pulp of James Jones's novel. And yet, this barracks soap opera is still an irresistible slice of classic Hollywood cheese. Even if its iconic moment of low tides and high hormones doesn't whip you into a torrid froth, there's still that cast – Frank Sinatra's blue-eyed loudmouth, moody Method dream boat Montgomery Clift in all his bruised-peach glory, Deborah Kerr's bleached-blond queen of hearts, TV matriarch Donna Reed as a whore, Burt and Ernie (Lancaster and Borgnine, respectively) representing the twin poles of the he-man beef spectrum – as well a peek into the nonconformity chic that would become de rigueur for a majority of the decade's acting and output. (1:58) Castro. (Fear)