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 and Movie Clock for theater information.

Opening

The Butterfly Effect If a butterfly flaps its wings in China, will Ashton Kutcher eventually be taken seriously as an actor? (1:53) Century Plaza, Century 20, Shattuck.

Fantasia Chinese New Year is nearly upon us, and the Four Star Theatre's got new Hong Kong movies to help you celebrate. Wai Ka-Fai's Fantasia, set in 1969, stars Lau Ching-Wan and Cecelia Cheung in a tale involving cops, robbers, and an enchanted genie. (1:40) Four Star.

*The Fog of War See "The Looking Glass." (1:46) Embarcadero.Magic Kitchen More Chinese New Year madness at the Four Star Theatre; this one features megastars Sammi Cheng (as a restaurant owner cursed to be unlucky in love) and Andy Lau (as one of her suitors). (1:40) Four Star.*The Same River Twice See Movie Clock. (1:18) Act I and II, Lumiere, Smith Rafael.

Win a Date with Tad Hamilton! Director Robert Luketic (Legally Blonde) should have entered a sweepstakes to win a decent script and some personality for his characters. As far as I can tell, writer Victor Levin spent time trapped inside a Hallmark store pilfering romantic wisdom (to use the term loosely) from Valentine's Day cards; then, after collecting all the lines about love Shoebox had to offer, he divided them among the bland cast. As small-town girl Rosalee, Kate Bosworth (Blue Crush) is cute; she grins constantly and is sweeter than you can stand. Topher Grace holds his own as Rosalee's hilarious, bitterly sarcastic, and romantically overlooked best friend. But Josh Duhamel, the "Tad" of the title, is supposedly a hugely successful, lecherous Hollywood jerk. Considering he can't even act interested in the other characters – or act like he's awake for that matter – it's hard to buy him as a famous thespian. Not everything about this film is bad; it's just that nothing stands out as overwhelmingly good. (1:36) Century Plaza, Century 20, Orinda. (McCartney)

*Yves Saint Laurent: 5, Avenue Marceau, 75116 Paris To Deneuve or not to Deneuve – that is the question for those who catch only one of David Teboul's pair of documentaries about Yves Saint Laurent. 5, Avenue Marceau, 75116 Paris, the more kinetic and cinematic of the two, favors the former option. A bespectacled, tough Catherine Deneuve appears early with maximum dramatic diva effect, violently pulling back curtains so viewers can watch her judge and model YSL daytime wear while surrounded by a buzzing throng. During this brief, too-smart-for-reality-TV performance, one learns that she has many hens (and prefers them to roosters), and that – surprisingly – she'll answer a cell phone call in the midst of a conversation. Of course, the film is about Saint Laurent, or, more specifically, the creation of his 2001 spring-summer collection, from sketches to finished garments. Direct and highly stylized, Teboul's direction doesn't have to look far to find an arty angle – one shot uses a dressing-room mirror to hallucinatory effect – but he's also keenly attuned to the personal dynamics of those who work by Saint Laurent's side, and the resentments of those who work under them. One dress-in-progress is, in the designer's own words, "sensational." (1:25) Roxie. (Huston)

*Yves Saint Laurent: His Life and Times A more straightforward biographical primer that functions as a counterpoint to the artist-at-work approach of David Teboul's other Yves Saint Laurent documentary, His Life and Times fascinates and frustrates as it charts the rapid ascent, descent, and resurrection of Christian Dior's heir apparent, who bows only to Chanel when contemplating his own legacy. Some anecdotes are funny: his mother remembers a three-year-old Yves voicing disapproval about an aunt's dress! The personalities of two YSL muses – Loulou de la Falaise and Betty Catroux – are set in stark relief, while the designer's chief love, Pierre Berge, offers different memories of, and perspectives on, their shared past. (That is, when his parrots aren't drowning him out.) Chain-smoking and quoting from his beloved Proust as he nears retirement, Saint Laurent resembles a less-alien Andy Warhol in terms of chilly enigmatic presence; his melancholic side is abundantly apparent, but Teboul – true to his fashion – shies away from unflattering personal details. (1:17) Roxie. (Huston)

Ongoing

AKA (1:58) Roxie.

Along Came Polly It seems that romantic bliss will forever elude a neurotic insurance risk assessor (Ben Stiller) – especially when he catches his wife cheating on their honeymoon. A chance meeting with a free-spirited old friend (Jennifer Aniston) could change that unlucky-in-love curse, if the gent can control his penchant for social embarrassment and his irritable bowel syndrome. Stiller sleepwalks amiably through his now-signature schmiel routine, and Aniston confirms she'll be a great comedian one day with the right material, but the most striking thing about this easy paycheck is how numbingly familiar it feels. You can pick off the past comic home runs – the reprised Farrelly brothers comedy of heartbreak and humiliation, the ghosts of sitcoms past, Philip Seymour Hoffman channeling Jack Black's anima, Alec Baldwin condensing director John Hamburg's hilarious first film, Safe Men, into one wedding speech – but it's hard to find this jalopy of spare parts particularly funny. (1:30) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Fear)

*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) Galaxy. (Huston)

Big Fish Parenthood can turn almost anybody into a softy, which is good news for the human spirit overall but occasionally very bad news for the artistic one. The fact that he recently had a child with Helena Bonham Carter (who plays several heavily disguised roles here, to no great effect) is the only explanation I can hazard as to why Tim Burton has suddenly started – suck in your breath now – imitating Steven Spielberg's worst instincts. The bedside vigil of semi-estranged son Will (Billy Crudup) over Southern braggart dad Edward Bloom (Albert Finney, better than this crap deserves) is the spur for reprise of the latter's favorite "autobiographical" tall tales, which are like old Twilight Zone episodes with a sugar glaze. This crossbreeding of Forrest Gump and What Dreams May Come is Disney-esque pseudo-folklore whose grasp on "childlike wonder" and maudlin "family is the most important thing!" values feel factory-issued. Never mind that Edward has been a crappy, egomaniacal, hot-air-blowing father – reconciliation here is grimly, cloyingly inevitable. (2:00) Century Plaza, Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

Brother Bear Word is Disney's planning to phase out hand-drawn animated films, so their latest, Brother Bear, may also be one of their last. Too bad it's not more memorable. Due to a string of circumstances that involve a family member's death, the killing of a bear, and some magical interference from the spirit world, Kenai (voiced by Joaquin Phoenix), a Native American boy on the cusp of manhood, is transformed into a grizzly. In order to return to human form, he must undergo a journey – the length of which, obviously, coincides with the time it takes for him to Grow Up, to the tune of several Phil Collins numbers. Along the way he befriends a rascally, chatty (read: grating) cub and a pair of moose (cleverly voiced by the Strange Brew brothers, Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas). Though the billboards paint it as an all-out comedy, Brother Bear boasts precious few belly laughs; one could, however, play a pretty good game of "spot the ripped-off plot point," as Bear unapologetically recycles material from multiple Disney films past. (1:25) Oaks. (Eddy)

Calendar Girls In a small English town, weekly meetings of the Women's Institute give the local ladies a chance to meet and socialize. Mostly they celebrate the virtues of pressing flowers and making jam – and it all seems fairly staid and harmless. However, when John (John Alderton) passes away from leukemia, his widow, Annie (Julie Walters), and her close friend Chris (Helen Mirren) decide to try and raise money for a memorial at the local hospital. Chris gets the idea that they should do a very tasteful nude calendar – so, inspired by John's idea that women (like flowers) in the final stages of their lives are the most glorious, Chris and Annie convince a number of other W.I. members to join them. As it turns out, the calendar of beautiful mature women baring it all for charity becomes an international sensation. Enjoyable, feisty, and incredibly funny, Calendar Girls – based on a true tale – is a film about women, friendship, and how easy it can be to defy expectations. (1:48) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness. (Cindy Emch)

Chasing Liberty First off, I'd hoist a stein with Mandy Moore any day of the week. As unassuming First Daughter Anna, Moore is her usual cute and charismatic self: whether skinny-dipping in the Danube (don't worry – stunt ass) or hitching across Europe, her consequence-free rebellious adventure is pure teen charm. Amid the sexually free French, the raving Germans, and the amorous Viennese, Moore manages to play drunk without coming off as fake or obnoxious, which is never an easy feat. Despite spending nearly half the picture naked, she doesn't seem cheap or skanky (yes, it's a charmed life for the pop star turned actor). While I don't foresee an Oscar nod in the near future, the MTV set will have a people's choice field day with this one. Even the film's inevitable outcome can't detract from its charming stars and luscious, postcard-worthy scenery. Moore's harmless group-hug appeal and costar Matthew Goode's lickable abs make this box office candygram delightfully tasty. (2:00) Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (McCartney)

Cheaper by the Dozen No one ever said it would be easy raising 12 kids and sustaining careers, but that's what a college football coach (Steve Martin) and his book-penning wife (Bonnie Hunt) try to do with a pinch of parental love and a whole lotta wacky high jinks. No one said it wasn't difficult crafting holiday films you could drag the whole brood to see, either, but the fact that this remake of the 1950 comedy is diluted for even the tamest of temperaments is typical of Tinseltown's template for "family entertainment" that hardly qualifies as entertaining. There are almost enough pinpricks of well-choreographed slapstick and the tag-team of Martin's Parenthood-redux buffoonery with Hunt's dry sass to prevent perpetual spin cycles for Clifton Webb's corpse, but its reliance on formula – a stock family-first message, cute kids mouthing clever lines – means another helping of warmed-up Disney Channel leftovers barely able to serve two. (1:38) Century Plaza, Century 20. (Fear)

*Cold Mountain A more reliable literary adapter than Merchant Ivory (at least of late), Anthony Minghella, director of The English Patient and The Talented Mr. Ripley, brings admirable cinematic sweep, intelligence, and detail to Charles Frazier's hugely popular historical novel. Jude Law is astutely cast as Inman, the young laborer turned Confederate soldier who makes a long, dangerous trek back to his rural North Carolina town during the waning days of the Civil War. Egging him onward through various hardships and bounty-hunter perils is the promise of a reunion with Ada (Nicole Kidman), pampered, Charleston-bred daughter of a minister (Donald Sutherland) whose premature death leaves her alone and helpless amid wartime deprivation. The original, tentative romance between principals is flash-backed between scenes from their variously harrowing present: traveling on foot, he's nearly killed several times over; she almost starves to death before spunky hillbilly Ruby (Renée Zellwegger, dynamic if borderline cartoonish) shows up to commandeer cultivation of the late minister's neglected farmland. Starting with a memorably horrific depiction of the era's savage yet impersonal warfare (dramatizing the July 1864 siege of Petersburg, Va.), Cold Mountain is never less than engaging, with passages by turns lyrical, ironic, brutal, and tender. Still, it's not quite as moving as one would like – and actually becomes least so when Ada and Inman are finally reunited in the last act. (2:35) Century 20, Four Star, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

*The Company The climactic moment of Robert Altman's The Company takes place 20 minutes into the film, as a pair of dancers perform a soulful, romantic duet on an outdoor stage and the weather turns bad. It's a gorgeously theatrical moment – and a lucky break for one of the dancers, an upcoming member of the company named Ry (Neve Campbell), who was understudying the part when the scheduled soloist sustained an injury. And in another movie altogether – let's say 2000's Center Stage – this windswept scene would have been a shoo-in for grand finale. Instead, we're in Chicago, watching real members (except for Campbell) of a slightly fictionalized Joffrey Ballet, in a film where a surprising, successful performance is, in the shorter term, one good night for one dancer in a season of ups and downs. When director Robert Altman set out to make the film, he clearly believed the real-life dramas of the company's days and nights would be enough to sustain a one-and-a-half-hour movie. But the question remains, will people be transfixed by a series of quiet offstage spectacles, stay to the end waiting for the point to kick in, or leave the theater early in disgust to have irate discussions in the car about the nature of art? (1:52) Empire. (Lynn Rapoport)

The Cooler William H. Macy is a sadder-sack Bogart, and Maria Bello an updated Gloria Grahame, in this slick indie gloss on retro-Hollywood "B" conventions. He's a former gambler so pathetically ill-starred that he's employed as a "cooler" at a fading-out Vegas casino – a man whose luck is so bad he can be counted on to end winning streaks simply by passing the tables. She's a much younger cocktail waitress with (what else?) a "past." When they fall in love, love redeems them – and their luck, which unfortunately earns the wrath of a casino boss (Alec Baldwin) who can't endure such status quo shifts in the face of his own imminent corporate-management phaseout. The acting is very good, of course – how could Macy disappoint in yet another "lovable loser" role? – and director and coscenarist (with Frank Hannah) Wayne Kramer's story is crafty and flavorful enough in an MGM-circa-1955 way. But even then the story wasn't very fresh or especially interesting, save as a showcase for actors who deserved better. Which they still do. The final reel springs some decent surprises, yet the scent of reheated genre formula is still the strongest smell to emerge from The Cooler. (1:41) Century 20, Empire, Galaxy. (Harvey)

Girl with a Pearl Earring Lost in Translation It girl Scarlett Johansson plays another passive protagonist in Peter Webber's debut film, an accomplished yet oddly distanced translation of Tracy Chevalier's acclaimed novel. She's forced to work as a servant in the household of master painter Johannes Vermeer (Colin Firth) when her own family's fortunes take a downturn in 1665 Delft, Holland. Uneducated yet naturally inquisitive, she gains the attention of the master as model and apprentice – both roles scandalous for a lower-class girl of the era. Girl with a Pearl Earring is nothing if not artful: domestic strife, moral hypocrisy, and class consciousness are neatly interwoven with an artistic inspiration that would eventually loom large in art history. It's handsomely done in aesthetic terms, polished in performance terms. Yet for all its intelligence and skill, Girl just kinda sits there, emotionally, and becomes more schematic than moving. (1:39) Clay. (Harvey)

*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) Balboa, Smith Rafael. (McCartney)

House of Sand and Fog Kathy Nicolo (Jennifer Connelly) is a recovering addict whose husband left a few months ago and who ekes out a living cleaning other people's houses. She's depressed. Hence she's not very quick to catch a serious bureaucratic error: nonpayment of an (erroneously charged) business tax ends up getting her evicted from her own home, which has been put up for public auction. The house is sold to Massoud Amir Behrani (Ben Kingsley), a former colonel in the Iranian air force who sees it as the lucky fiscal break he's desperately sought since fleeing his native country. As mutual obstinacy, legal snafus, and some very poor tactical decisions heat up resentment on both sides, Kathy and Massoud head toward a tragic showdown. Commercial director Vadim Perelman's debut feature shaves and/or downplays some of the more extreme melodrama in Andre Dubus III's original literary potboiler. But House takes itself awfully seriously, to diminishing results – the last reel goes over the top, with Sir Ben chewing scenery beyond duty's call. (2:06) 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

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, wannabe 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)

*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) Balboa. (Eddy)

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) Century Plaza, Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Macias)

*The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King The quest to deliver "The Greatest Fantasy Trilogy Ever Made" has been completed. The hype is right. The Return of the King is the best of the three, but only in part. And it all depends on which part you're talking about. In the first act, we're still mucking about with various monarchs, noble families, and peasants as the film unfolds. Our main characters, hobbits Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin), are still on their dangerous trek to the volcanic Mount Doom. Gandalf (Ian McKellan) and plucky halfling Pippin (Billy Boyd) have arrived at the kingdom of Gondor – ground zero for the long-awaited War of the Ring – where the tone of Return becomes quiet and hushed. Heroically, director Peter Jackson decides to slow down and take a breath himself. From here on out, Jackson assumes a total mastery of the material, and even the deviations from Tolkien's text start to look like improvements. The long, arduous journey to the credits may not have been perfect, and perilously few of those character subplots ever pay out, but for a hearty share of its 3-hour-and-18-minute running time, there can be no doubt that King rules. (3:21) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, 1000 Van Ness. (Macias)

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) Century 20, Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Chun)

Love Actually Screenwriter Richard Curtis (Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, Bridget Jones's Diary) is the man who practically invented the modern-day "Britsy-cutesy" template: attractive losers display near toxic amounts of dry wit, tell themselves to shut up whenever they've said something idiotic, and generally court humiliation in quixotic quests for true love (think Hugh Grant's entire career). Curtis's directorial debut tells not one but nine stories involving various degrees of smitten-ness, swollen with an all-star cast (Grant, Liam Neeson, Emma Thompson, Colin Firth, etc.) and a patented brand of English rose-thorn humor – even the title seeps self-deprecating whimsy. Love Actually purports to be paying tribute to the idea of Cupidian bliss, but its real objet d'amour is the notion of movie love, where strings swell and goo-goo eyes meet – so much so that it's stacked its deck with nothing but those cinematic moments and is minus the dramatic build that gives those scenes emotional heft. (2:12) Four Star. (Fear)

*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) Balboa, Oaks. (Harvey)

Mona Lisa Smile Art history instructor Katherine Watson (Julia Roberts) arrives at all-women's college Wellesley in 1953 and immediately assumes the unconventional-stranger-comes-to-town role. Since we're also deep inside the genre of teachers-who-inspire-us, a few slides of Soutine and Picasso are enough to slap the smirks off the faces of her students, including cool, studious Julia Stiles and Maggie Gyllenhaal's potentially tragic sexual adventurer. Mona Lisa Smile is clearly trying hard to get its message out, and there's nothing wrong with the movie's main directives: for girls to close their textbooks, consider all options, use birth control, defy their parents as necessary, and generally start thinking for themselves. But the latter might sound more convincing if Smile didn't tread so firmly in the tracks of other movies – in particular, 1989's Dead Poets Society – that you can see most of the steps in advance. (1:59) Galaxy, Kabuki. (Rapoport)

*Monster As de-glamming makeovers go, Charlize Theron's dumpification in this dramatization of the late Aileen Wuornos's 1989-90 serial killing spree sure kicks the bejesus out of Nicole Kidman's Oscar-winning nose cap last year. You can believe it when characters here identify her as indigent and/or crazy by just a glance. Without going into much tortured-childhood backgrounding (a few discreet, disturbing flashbacks under the opening credits suffice), this first feature by writer-director Patty Jenkins effectively conveys the accumulated psychological and physical damage that perhaps inevitably turned Wuornos into a menace. The film charts a span when her life got both better and a whole lot worse: A committed if awkward relationship with a younger woman (Christina Ricci, just so-so) gets her off the streets, determined to improve her circumstances. Without means, education, or any (legal) work experience, however, that goal proves near impossible. And once she crosses a line – killing a brutal roadside-pickup prostitution client in self-defense – financial desperation, suppressed rage, and a faint grip on reality push her to cross it again and again. While the murders are handled bluntly enough, Monster is more depressing than scary or lurid. Its principal aim is as a cautionary character study: used or abandoned by family, institutional help and society in general, Wuornos embodied how extreme human need can warp into "monstrous" toxicity. A worthy movie, driven by a very strong lead performance. (1:51) Embarcadero. (Harvey)

My Baby's Daddy Or, Three Men and Three Babies. A trio of South Philly guys, friends since the cradle, are pushing 30 yet still living like emancipated teenagers in an uncle's house and still fixated on goals that are pretty pipe-dreamy. Dweeb sanitation worker Lonnie (Eddie Griffin) remains cluelessly in love with lifelong crush Rolonda (Paula Jai Parker), oblivious the fact that she is pure tah-rash. Tubby G. (Anthony Anderson) has a better thing going with fellow grocery store employee Xi Xi (Bai Ling), but he's wasting his time and athletically disinclined body on professional-boxer fantasies. White bro Dominic (Michael Imperioli) works at a recording studio alongside gorgeous Nia (Joanna Bacalso). His focus, however, is on making it as a rap-act manager. The slackerish guys get an adult wake-up call when all three current flames announce pregnancy. The usual ooh-gross baby barf, pee, and poo jokes ensue as the boys gradually become men. Obviously a for-hire gig for incongruous director Cheryl Dunye (of lesbian indie Watermelon Woman and the outstanding HBO women's prison tale Stranger Inside), this rote mix of comic racial stereotypes plus knee-jerk "p.c." warm 'n' fuzziness isn't bad – just formulaic and forgettable in the extreme. John Amos, Method Man, Amy Sedaris, and ex-Kid in the Hall Scott Thompson are notable in a good supporting cast that cries for better material. (1:31) Century Plaza, Century 20, 1000 Van Ness. (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) Century 20, Grand Lake. (Harvey)

Paycheck The top-shelf John Woo films, The Killer and A Better Tomorrow, for instance, attained greatness thorough burning passions and insane body counts. But Paycheck is a bum trip into chilly Philip K. Dick paranoia that shows little of what the former king of Hong Kong action films does best. Ben Affleck plays an electronics genius who is thrown into a high-stakes conspiracy of corporate espionage when three years of his memory are erased. A tragically underutilized Aaron Eckhart wants Affleck dead, Uma Thurman wants him to live, and aside from a few fun gags (including the bonkers transformation of Affleck into invincible kung fu pole fighter for the climax), the results are resoundingly lackluster and generic. Face/Off showed that the director's talents can still flourish in Hollywood, so long as he's got the right material to work with, but there's no escape from an underwritten script and screwy sci-fi illogic. I won't be the only reviewer to make the joke, but it's true: this is one Paycheck that Woo should have turned down. (2:00) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness. (Macias)

Peter Pan (1:45) Century 20, Orinda.

Pieces of April The fact that Pieces of April was a buzz film at the Sundance fest this year attests to the sorry state of American indie cinema, which has essentially become a minor-league Hollywood. A secondhand "original" soundtrack of corrosive Stephin Merritt lullabies sets the tone of Peter Hedges's digital-video comic drama. The screenplay's tired Guess Who's Coming to Dinner-meets-Daytrippers scenario traps viewers in a car with a miserable cauca-zombie family as they journey toward a Thanksgiving feast that's been thoroughly botched by black sheep April (Katie Holmes, in art-damaged attire that's very early '90s) and her (gasp!) black boyfriend, Derek Luke. Hedges's presentation of working-class urban life is even more stereotypical than a Wayans comedy, but at least the Wayans clan bring parody to the table. Pieces of April's moth-eaten liberal idea of just desserts requires that the sarcasm eventually gives way to a multicult sweetness – though not before Patricia Clarkson, as April's mother, provides a few potent glimpses of a dying woman's solitude. (1:20) Balboa. (Huston)

*The Revolution Will Not Be Televised Kim Bartley and Donnacha O'Briain's documentary, touted as a look at "the world's first media coup," might as well double as a California recall-hangover cure. In April 2002 the people of Venezuela foiled a TV revolt by taking to the streets of Caracas and storming the presidential palace to return briefly ousted president Hugo Chavez to power. Bartley and O'Briain, who initially conceived Revolution as an analytical profile of Chavez, largely bypass a cogent analysis of the differences between Chavez's populist promises and his actual accomplishments. The film's strength and originality stem from its eye-of-the-storm proximity to April 2002's political unrest and the perspective it has regarding televised distortions: as the attempted coup unfolds, international news reports claim Chavez supporters have resorted to sniper-style attacks on protesters; Bartley and O'Briain land footage that exposes those claims as lies. (1:14) Red Vic. (Huston)

Something's Gotta Give An aging Casanova (Jack Nicholson) locks horns with the uptight playwright mother (Diane Keaton) of his younger girlfriend when the two are forced to share the scribe's Hampton household. Neither can stand the other, but guess who surprisingly falls for each other, go their separate ways, were meant to be together, etc.? The notion that two treasures of American acting get to make sexagenarians sexy and trade barbed ripostes seems like a dream come true. Unless, of course, the duo's dialogue seems cribbed from The View, the film is shot like a Pottery Barn catalogue, and the indiscreet smarm of the bourgeoisie is somehow supposed to pass for knowledgeable carnality ... then, well, any potential dissipates posthaste. Writer-director Nancy Meyers (What Women Want) seems convinced that cutesy charm and reel-life charisma can substitute for real wit or Mars-versus-Venus insight; the only thing that ends up "giving" is one's tolerance for saccharine (cocooned in smug self-love) trying to masquerade as romantic comedy. (2:03) Century Plaza, Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

The Statement It's not like this terse tale of ex-Vichy policeman-wartime Nazi collaborator Pierre Brossard (Michael Caine) on the run from both mysterious gunmen and two dogged do-gooders (Jeremy Northam, Tilda Swinton) doesn't come with a good pedigree, what with the mighty Caine, a smattering of British acting talent on board for support, and director Norman Jewison (the original Thomas Crown Affair) working everything into a lather. It just makes this rather third-rate version of The Third Man all the more confusing as the acting starts showing its seams, the dialogue seems composed of one wooden plank after another (at one point Brossard is in the midst of a heart attack and utters, for what one might guess is to benefit any blind people in the audience, "I'm having a heart attack!"), and the heavy-handed conspiracy aspect involving a secret society in the Catholic Church just sinks like a stone. (2:00) Lumiere. (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) Smith Rafael. (Huston)

Teacher's Pet (1:07) Century Plaza, Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

*Tokyo Godfathers Director Satoshi Kon's previous film, 2001's awesome Millennium Actress, took audiences on a dizzying trek through 2,000 years of Japanese history. His latest work, Tokyo Godfathers, homes in on the tumultuous events of a single Christmas holiday, with equally impressive results. Three homeless friends (a young woman, a transvestite, and an aging drunk) stumble across an abandoned baby and vow to return it to its parents, wherever and whoever they may be. The premise is little more than a redo of John Ford's 3 Godfathers, but Kon takes the material in smart new directions. With extraordinary yet subtle animation, he caricatures an already surreal Japan and gives the stage over to the city's most seldom heard voices. While touchy subjects are on the agenda, Tokyo Godfathers never gets preachy or overly sweet. Instead, there's a dense amount of visual and verbal gags to keep things engaging. Humorous, emotional, and concisely executed, it's the anime film to top in 2004. (1:31) Lumiere. (Macias)

Torque If a bad movie knows it's bad, does that make it any better? The jury's still out on Torque, a two-wheeled entry into the above-the-law speed-demon genre made popular by The Fast and the Furious. A ridiculous plot about bikes, babes, gang rivalry, crystal meth, reunited lovers, meddling cops, etc. exists only to provide an excuse for the film's many high-speed chase scenes, lensed with CG-assisted slickness (and a good deal of product placement) by prolific music video helmer, and first-time feature director, Joseph Kahn. Self-aware dialogue – including a barb at Vin Diesel's Furious catchphrase, "I live my life a quarter mile at a time!" – doesn't really add much to this too-familiar tale. Torque's one bright spot is Ice Cube, whose unique ability to layer menace over good-heartedness leaves the likes of Diesel (who Cube'll be replacing in the XXX sequel) in the dust. (1:21) Century Plaza, Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

*The Triplets of Belleville Perhaps the first major animated export from France since René Laloux's sci-fi epics Fantastic Planet (1973) and Light Years (1988), comic book artist Sylvain Chomet's feature debut is a uniquely vinegary comedy that's like a grown-up 101 Dalmatians. A champion Tour de France bicyclist is kidnapped by bad guys and taken to America for ill purposes. His abduction spurs cross-Atlantic pursuit by grandmother Mme Souza and their corpulent, waddling dog Bruno. Their principal helpers are the titular trio, 1930s music-hall stars since fallen into decrepit eccentricity. Dialogue-free Triplets is funny, inventive, and endlessly referential. The only minus is an overpoweringly dour comic tilt that may strike some viewers as a tad too dyspeptic and cranky for full enjoyment. Like Ralph Bakshi's cartoon features of yore – albeit in a much less racy vein – Triplets is dazzling at times yet so misanthropic you might leave the theater feeling a tad soiled. (1:20) Embarcadero. (Harvey)

*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. (Harvey)

The Young Black Stallion North Africa is the real star of this new Disney Imax film directed by Simon Wincer (Free Willy), who fills the screen with amber images of rolling sand dunes, craggy mountains, and Arabian horses. The story (a prequel to the 1979 film) follows the adventures of Neera (Biana G. Tamimi) and a young, wild stallion as they struggle through the desert and form an unshakable bond. To save her family, she comes up with a plan to enter the horse in the village race. The plot feels hokey, even for a children's movie, yet the beauty of the landscape makes up for it. Despite a few glaring oddities (such as the fact that the two lead children, supposedly raised in North Africa, are the only characters with American accents), the scenery is breathtaking, and the film's short length ensures the pace doesn't drag. (1:00) Metreon Imax. (Emch)

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